i’m diving into a project or, rather, a life. being dogged by meaninglessness one can do one of two things: succumb or resist.
- resistance, at best, is absurd
- it is better than giving in.
- the tension of futility must be accepted as normal
- are there other options?
The daily ritual is killing me. This, while having been said by countless millions over countless years and countless locations, is still true.
Something turned off in me and I can no longer be defined by my ambitions or my career or whatever. At best I can only be defined by what I am not.
- Ambition = nonexistent
- Career = indifferent
- Goals = none
- Life = meaningless
Ritual is the only thing keeping the ball rolling.
Other than that I code, draw and create writing project after writing project. Anything to avoid the studio.
The studio poses too many questions with the biggest being “Why?”
Why: * bother * try * think * work
After that it becomes a question of mortality.
Why are you: * thinking you’re important. * making things that will just sit in a basement.
Which then brings the grand daddy of them all:
What’s the: * point. * purpose.
All of this is a resounding nothing.
As of this writing 19th century art is taking a beating in the market. Poor bastards finally thought they had some justification for existing too…
I’ll probably do some more painting soon as well. My basement walls need covering.