“Every paint is fabric paint if you’re not careful.” – X
I’m definitely not careful. I try to remember to put on my red ripshirt each time I paint. Often, though, I jump into painting without changing clothes. It’s resulted in some exciting attire. “Hobo” is the apt word.
My new neighbor at the time, a DJ with an immense t-shirt collection, gave me a stack of fifty t-shirts to choose from. When he sees me, he hollers, “Hey, good-looking!” I think he needs glasses. You never know, though. Middle-aged balding men have their advantages. I don’t know what they are so I’ll get back to you on that. One of my favorite shirts is a previously white Sadboy shirt. After getting paint on it, I opted to lean into the process and add color each time I painted.
“Previously white” sounds a bit suspect, doesn’t it?
You know you have a painting problem when there are 7 empty spray cans in your trash box. Like heroin, all I want to do is replace them with another round of vibrant colors.