The Sights and the Sounds of Portland Avenue

So I was working on this piece in the garage for a couple of weeks, it's frickin' huge, and heavy too! The biggest yet, by far, but who cares except for me, I guess. While working on this I had the garage door open most of the time. I could see, hear, feel, and smell everything on Portland avenue. The family of Bush backers across the street were constantly arguing with each other (nothing new here; the white trash family hasn't taken down their X-mas lights since 1999, the dad wears overalls and always yells at his over weight son. The mom came over one day and took Sarak's broken Kitchen Aid machine, funny.) Anyway, people would sometimes peak into the garage and see me laboring away in there. The little, old Asian man next door would come outside every night at about 12:00 and pour water on his car, he would then wave to me, smiling huge while smoking a cigarette. Random groups of Albany teenagers would walk by too, but they are so far out of touch with reality that they don't even bother looking around--rather, they stare stupidly into their cell phones, or dribble basketballs in an out-of-time rhythm pattern. Annoying.
But me, yeah, I was in the garage maybe doing no better than anyone else--just taping a bunch of shit onto an old board. I do hope that my time in there is productive, it feels productive, but what is the point if these pieces never see beyond 1147 Portland Ave.??? I need to grow some balls and start looking for a proper venue to display them. Alright then.