When I am drunk. And when I am lonely. Which seems to be a lot recently. I'll write more here soon (I like how I write that like a promise to either myself or someone who is actually reading this thing.) Whiskey is my muse, and "whiskey is my muse" is a stupid and pretentious thing to write under any circumstance. Eric is now an art student at a reputable art school and he maintains the biggest thing to happen to him was that the critics there do everything they can to make you realize that all your work depends on you and not that you live the "artist" lifestyle--something that Eric had kind of built up in his head as he began painting a while ago. There is a lesson in there somewhere.
I need to get my shit together. This is a fact. I need to head face first into my fear of trying and being a responsible and accountable person. The biggest and yet most obvious secret is that the world is not too tolerant of people like me, who think they can be the execption to the rules or coast by on intangilbes that weren't afforded to them by things like discipline and hard work. 99% of can't coast by and come out the other end just peachy. I need to start doing more than just asking myself the hard questions, but answering them. And answering them in complete sentences with five--count 'em--five supporting paragraphs.
Fuck it. MY happieness is worth it. My sense of security and self is worth not procratinating anymore. Anyone can be a little lazy, careless and a chronic mis-manager of their time...I like to think I can transcend that "anyone" notion...at least I like to think that...
Holy shit, I have a blog? I guess so.
Hey, wanna know something even more messed up? Here's another one I've kept since high school: http://rabbitjack.deadjournal.com/
I know right?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)