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i paint pictures. most of them are crap-faced. this is apparent when one stands by me observing them hanging on the wall and inquires what they are looking at and of its “meaning.” this is always when the thought enters my skull that i do not want to do this anymore. and then, appropriately, i realize i am neither winning nor losing and my position in time and space now does not define anything. and the question of why it is an artist must expound upon every produced instance of himself through language, i understand today. simplicity simplicity. words are necessary. but i don't talk very much. my emotional state exists entirely as annoyingly visual filmstrips and forcing it through the screen of language results in more frustration than beneficial comprehension. i can't articulate honest sentiment through this screen unless succumbing to my desire to apply several layers of unbreakable metaphoric code and moronically tedious imagery. so i have no answer to that one.
by The JavaScript Source
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