Do you ever wonder why exactly we're doing this whatever it is that we're doing? Why we bleat our ineffectually tiny lamb-words out into the vast uncaring womb of the sky? What could we possibly hope to accomplish that hasn't already been accomplished by someone who already looks more like a lamb than I will look in twelve hours? Or is it all just for self satisfaction?
Is there any such thing?
In the essential Creativ Person™neurosis guidebook we come upon the proverbial dark cavern of bone-squiggling despair. "And lo, thou shalt covet thy peer's impressive talents and be held down amongst the reeds; you cannot do again what they have already done more awesomely. You should still probably try. Probably."
-- Proverbs 3:25-2
The very most stalwart Creativ Person™would like you to think that this bone-squiggling despair does not exist, that it is only a dark-shadowed rumor Emily Dickinson started. PS, what a dick. This is, however, incorrect. Your local Creativ Person™is attempting to wool you into thinking that they don't care what you think, something which could be no further from the truth than Family Dinner.
The reality is that bone-squiggling despair is out there waiting, poised and pistoned, whether your most beloved Creativ Person™succumbs to it daily or only once or never or bi-weekly or over yonder bitsly. It's waiting and it wants meats in its MOUTHS. The only option is to flee, isn't it?
I like shouting hopelessly into the sky.
See you in 2012.