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The main drawback to being a so-called starving artist is, well… The starving bit. Nobody makes a lot of money quickly by writing (especially when just starting out) and being perpetually short of cash is starting to get on my nerves. So I’m considering alternative ways of generating revenue. I’ve rather quickly come up against the wall of my disability, which prevents me from the traditional methods – cleaning houses, bartending, dog walking, selling my body for medical experiments (besides, it’s already the product of medical experiments) and have yet to find a way to charge for organizing people’s lives. Instead, I have my words and my voice. So I started thinking of ways to generate extra income. Some options on the list of considerations include:

Winning the lottery. Yeah, right. Next!

Marrying an elderly, frail billionaire. All things considered, this seems a decent option and should his children decide to contest the will, I’ll let myself be bought off with a paltry sum (like, say, $5 million). However, locating a pool of eligible billionaires is stumping me a bit. Prowling through local nursing homes seems not the smartest idea, as billionaires would likely receive private care. Also, I just don’t move in the right circles for any casual encounters at benefits held in posh places. We’ll call that Plan B.

Exploring the exciting career of phone sex operator. All right, so I can talk (a lot). I have a telephone. I have a good imagination. So far, so good. On the other hand, I’m shy and I laugh a little too easily. This leads me to suspect that I’d be the world’s worst phone sex operator. I’d probably start giggling hysterically within five minutes and then feel awful for not doing my job well and insist on giving my customers their money back. Perhaps this idea should be put on the back burner.

Becoming A Master Criminal. Bank robbing is out – I am too recognizeable and although the chair’s warp speed keeps me going at a fair clip, it still isn’t fast enough to outrun anyone but a frail, elderly billionaire. Being a hired assassin comes up against the fact that I give right of way to pigeons walking on the sidewalk and veer around bugs, so I doubt I have the intestinal fortitude for the job. Let’s face it: I can’t lie to save my life and the only criminal act I’ve ever performed was accidentally shoplifting 100 grams of peppercorn salami when it fell down the side of my chair and I didn’t notice until I got home. This is clearly a last resort type of career move.

Every little bit helps. Right then. So there’s no one thing that’ll solve the problem. It seems like the only way of increasing the cash flow is by finding a little bit here and a little bit there, which brings me to why I’m breaching all etiquette and talking about money. I’ve vascillated about this for some time, but there’s nothing for it. One of the ‘little bits’ will be, as soon as I figure out how (and return from the latest flight from the fumes – which should hopefully be next week), to put ads on this blog. Subtle ads that can be ignored, if required. I thought I’d never do that – I had some sort of high-falutin’ idea of preserving the ‘purity of the medium’, but when the going gets tough, your ethics gets pliable. Not enough to look into the “hired killer” career option, but enough to shill for The Man. My apologies.