Please Kill Me,
Greetings all of you subterranean word-mongers. (I’ll insult you most of the time…. EMBRACE IT!). So here we are again. The end of the week, and yet another day that you can be doing more than read some douchebag express himself, (that was oddly metaphorical…INCEPTION!). In any case, I’m glad you’re here -because we’ve got some things to talk about.
First off, YOU’RE AN ARTIST! Get all opposing thoughts out of your mind right now (except the sexy ones… Those are cool!). As an artist you have a couple of things wrong with you -that’s a fact, accept that now, (welcome to literary Tae-Bo). The good thing about having a few screws loose is that you become extremely aware of the other loose nuts. Our job, (should you choose to take it on), is to find a way to take the wrongs, and bend them into truth, (uhhh… What?). We do that naturally, but the focus comes only comes with practice.
We dig. That’s what we do. No different than the laborers of yesteryear. We dig for the truth, we dig for emotion, we dig for passion (and also dirt, I guess.). Beneath every cold move or solemn gesture lays a pattern of understanding, an understanding that only a few are gifted to decipher. If you’re reading this -then you are of that selective grouping, don’t run from it, (fondle it gently).
Entrenched in every soul is a need to find meaning in existence. We don’t provide answers. As a matter of fact, we may even cause more confusion. But do not be deterred by the sullen glances of the misunderstanding. Because eventually, all inquiry funnels into the same place – that place- is solution.
So, we fight the derogatory remarks of those who refuse to see other than the lie that they’ve been told. We battle the thoughts of our predecessors, who’d been stopped by the ticking clock that is life. We struggle to maintain normality, as our peers indulge in the finite promise of the standard. We write. We live. We dig.
Even in our weakest times, we combat the mortal coil that is our societal expectation. We learn more -so that we can slowly disseminate the improper thoughts that have led our loved ones astray. In every moment, we interpret the disruption of emotional fact, as a challenge to be defeated. We don’t implode, we don’t explode, (we don’t do yoga), we write. We dig.
We dig deep into the ethos of what mankind can be. We dig deep into our own humanity, in the hopes of sharing what’s found within us. We share what we find -to cheers or jeers- and are never satisfied. We shouldn’t be happy with our results. Our job isn’t happiness. Our job is passion. That passion is -to do what we do BEST. Dig deeper.