The other morning, in the slipstream between dreaming and waking, I found my mind was playing Van Morrison's "Professional Jealousy" over and over. I tend to pay attention to what ever my subconscious offers up at this time of the day. Sometimes it results in a good painting, other times, a waste of paint. I work in a building with over 100 artists (should they ever show up at the same time, which, thankfully, is not likely). Some of them are very successful, even in this lame economy. Others, not so. I try (some days more successfully than others), to embrace other artists' good fortune. One of the successful artists is a good friend. I can't be jealous because her success defies logic. It's almost unnatural. She has friends who can't bear to hear of her latest sales, so she doesn't tell them. Another friend tells me to never let on if you're doing well because people will hate you for it. This is not a problem I ever expect to experience. I try to remember what Diane Tesler once told me when I was bitter. She said it meant that people were buying art and that was something which should make us all happy.