Kickball double-header in the July heat coming up in about an hour. Not really looking forward to it much.
Still haven't gotten my computer(s) back. Still no idea when I will.
Really looking forward to getting back into Mass Effect this weekend.
...
This isn't really writing. There's nothing creative or interesting or worthwhile about simply cataloging the most boring minutiae of your daily life.
But I'm stuck in the office, bored-to-death by a mile-high stack of pointless busy-work that I've been groaning through for almost two weeks now, and I've got about twenty minutes to post something before I have to get ready to go to a company fucking kickball game, of all fucking things. What am I supposed to do? Make art?
...
...
...
Yes.
Yes, that's exactly what you should fucking do. Make some fucking art.
If it isn't worth doing, then don't fucking bother. You're just wasting time.
But I'm not an artist. I'm just an approaching-middle-age-teenager; a pseudo-hipster dipshit. A corporate wage-slave. And a wannabe addict/mystic.
Everyone's an artist. Most people just don't bother, is all. All you have to do is make the effort. It will touch someone, somewhere, in some way.
Express, motherfucker!
Um, ok, uh, here goes:
*cough*
I don't know which upsets me more
That I am saddened by my Self
And my life
Or the Guilt
Stemming from the Knowledge
That I have no Right
Nor Reason
To feel this way at all
I'm a King
dressed as a Beggar
Who will give me Alms?
There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?
No, I guess not. It wasn't any good, either.
You're still missing the point. It's not about "Good" or "Bad." "Bad" is inevitable, and "Good" is something that will come with time, or it won't, and there's very little you can do about that, so there's no point in worrying about it.
The point, is to do it.
That's all.
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