The Boy Looked At Johnny
Same as it ever was
I guess I'm a little tired...I stayed up late finishing a
commission, and will be doing the same tonight. And I have
another one Thursday, a group caricature.
I'll probably be feelin' like this every night next
semester, when my formal schooling resumes.
Oh well. Life as a loser was fun while it lasted. It was a pretty
wimpy-ass way to sock it to the Man, but it was about the best I can
muster. I don't know if I even possess the tools to really make my
life as radical a proposition as I sometimes wish it were. I feel so
mediocre most of the time. I shouldn't feel this way, should I? Me,
an artist? I should feel unstoppable, unconquerable, dazzling and
fiercly hypnotic, turned on, jacked up and in tune to the celestial
music of the universe and passionate and young and beautiful.
Instead, I feel like a dork in a sweater. Is this self-pitying? Yes,
a little. But it suggests a far greater problem, a problem I don't
quite know how to start solving.