She slipped into slow motion, as she heard herself say, “Painting relaxes me.” It was as if she was a car going through the penultimate phase of an automated car wash, and the aggressive swirling wrap-around washers were the truth. Linda Salmon Chase was absolutely apoplectic and befuddled with this newfound truth.
It was not the painting that relaxed her; it was the paint, the fumes. It made perfect sense. Linda had always been proud of being a world-class hedonist. Her motto was we are measured by the pleasure and leisure in our treasure. In short, she loved a good buzz.
For the first time, this new awareness explained the universal reaction of shock to people who saw her “art”. If only she knew what her critics actually thought: Wow. Who the fuck anthropomorphizes ants being tortured by children? And over and over again?! She must have gone through some traumatic stuff. Were those actual dead ants glued around the border?