Today we’ve got a short one… which is good because Dorian can be pretty depressing when he gets like this. But don’t worry, sometimes we need a little calm before the storm. Thanks for all of your amazing support on the first 25 chapters! If you missed any, here’s where it begins... CHAPTER 01 You’ll also find a table of contents below. And now without further ado here’s...

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENFlatlined

Dorian lay on his back, his head hanging off the side of the loft frame. He stared across at an untouched canvas looming large in the center of his living room. Upside down the workspace looked even more depressing; a pathetic maelstrom of crap strewn just about everywhere. He could picture each step down from the loft, every muscle that would have to come into play in order for him to get to work. Instead, he shut his eyes and hoped that the solace of another snooze might save him.

Still in his bathrobe by late afternoon, Dorian sat alone at his table pouring Rice Krispies into an archaic carton of chocolate ice cream. As he crunched down on the brown ice crystals and cereal, a shooting pain shot from his molar.

Just what he needed, a dental bill to add to his stack of unpaid debts.

Finally ready to face the virgin canvas, he squeezed out multiple daubs of oil, but then got distracted by a picture on a nearby shelf of him and Althea at one of his early gallery shows. He leaned and pressed his palette knife against the glass front of the frame, covering her face with yellow pigment.

Dorian stood before a large blank canvas, staring blankly, palette knife in hand. Who was he kidding? He didn't even have a show. And everything he'd ever made, everything he'd struggled so hard to create was long since forgotten. Inconsequential. He was washed up before he'd barely even made it out of the gate. The Dorian Teasdale market had flatlined. He'd signed his own Do Not Resuscitate order with a stream of pathetic efforts that amounted solely to thousands of dollars in wasted pigment. He slumped back on the couch, tossing his palette knife onto the paint-splattered coffee table. The evening light outside his window slowly faded as Dorian continued to wonder just exactly what the hell he thought he was doing with his life.

The apartment was gloomy now. At some point he'd slid off the couch and now sat cross-legged on the floor in silence, still in his bathrobe.

His droopy eyes were focused on something across the room.

The giant cockroach slowly made it's way across the floor towards Dorian.

Dorian quietly spoke to the insect.

"Just you and me, now, Frank."

Dorian picked a Rice Krispie off the floor and held it out between his fingers, trying to feed the little critter, but even the lowly insect kept its distance.

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Dwelling chapter Illustrations by the wonderful @opheliafu.

If you missed the first three chapters of Dwelling the Novel, here is the table of contents:

CHAPTER 01	CHAPTER 13	CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 02	CHAPTER 14	CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 03	CHAPTER 15	CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 04	CHAPTER 16	NEXT - CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 05	CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 06	CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 07	CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 08	CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 09	CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 10	CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 11	CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 12	CHAPTER 24

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BEHIND THE KEYBOARD

A relic of another era: my kitchen bathtub from the Lower East Side tenement apartment.

Have you ever felt so tired I can barely function? Can it ever be attributed to something you know you should get done, but really don’t want to. This is especially poignant when the work is self imposed. As an artist of over two decades I haven’t had a boss in all that time. So I’ve had to rely on self motivation, which is pretty easy when things are cooking and the world is giving you positive feedback, but when you feel all alone in the work and it’s been a very long time since you’ve shared, the strange form of exhaustion can be crippling.

A little livingroom painting.

That’s one of the reasons why finally sharing this work with you all is such a gift. Every time I come back to a chapter to polish it up before posting it, I’m energized by the knowledge that I’ll have your wonderful, thoughtful comments to read and reflect on and have a direct correlation to the work in the vacuum. What an amazing way to work. It wakes me right up!

Thanks for that!

Yours In The Chain,
Doug Karr

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SPECIAL THANKS to my wife @zenmommas for years of support during the writing process, @ericvancewalton for his trailblazing, inspired collaboration and incredible guidance, @andrarchy for his mind blowing insight and friendship, @bakerchristopher for being an inspiration as a human artist and bro, @complexring for his brilliance and enthusiasm, Masie Cochran, Taylor Rankin and @elenamoore for their skillful help in editing the manuscript, and to @opheliafu for the fantastic illustrations she created exclusively for the novel's launch on Steemit and to Elena Megalos for her wonderful character illustrations. I’d also like to thank Eddie Boyce, Jamie Proctor, Katie Mustard, Alan Cumming, Danai Gurira, Stephan Nowecki, Ron Simons, Dave Scott, Alden Karr, Missy Chimovitz, my dad Andy Karr and late mother Wendy, and everyone else who helped lead me to this moment.

DWELLING BLOCKCHAIN COPYRIGHT © DOUG KARR, 2018

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I am a Brooklyn based writer, film & commercial director, and crypto-enthusiast, my projects include @HardFork-series an upcoming narrative crypto-noir and my novel Dwelling will soon be premiering exclusively on Steemit, and you can check out more of my work at dougkarr.com, piefacepictures.com, and www.imdb.com/name/nm1512347

Please comment thoughtfully, up-vote and resteem and I'll gladly upvote your comments!

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10% of all profits from Dwelling will be donated to Amnesty International.