Artist accepts his unknown destiny?

My one-room house neighbor, the Laguna Beach artist and Vietnam vet who is being evicted, seems to have accepted his fate. This worries me but also comforts, I suppose. The damn guy may smoke and drink too much, too soon in the day, but he's a really decent guy. He came over to help me with a busted electrical breaker yesterday when he had other things to do, like a lovely lady visitor and a bottle of wine. But up he pops of his own accord, and chased down breaker panels all over this oddly wired and vast old Tudor house in his bare feet, so I could take care of the dripping load of laundry stalled helplessly in the dead dryer.
He's got 35 days, he says. "Tryin' to get some money together, so if you wanna buy a painting, now's the time, it's a good deal." And it is. He has a painting I love of a huge blue-gray sky with laundry whipping on an outdoor line, no people in sight (why is it I love paintings without people?). It won't go anyplace we can hang art in this heavy-beamed house. But we spotted a small painting of a tomato twisted amidst it's green vines, and I might get that for someone. That will be our donation to the fund, a fare-the-well fund for a fifty-something man who listens to Moody Blues like the teen he once was, has a talent he's fiercely proud of, and a future he hasn't yet figured out.