Fake it until you make it, ladies and gents. An axiom I’ve come to live by a few different times. It’s not at all bad if it gets you through to the other side of one project or another. As far as lifestyle, it’s a recipe for repression. So, as the old saying goes: Be careful with the words you live by.

Hashing that shit around because, fuck, it’s what a dithering mind does.

I’m low status, low wage, minimal materialism with no debt, tons of free time, flexible, comfortable. What little I have, I feel as though my shit is together.

I’m not sure why I insist on being an artist author. I’m convinced my salvation will not be found in either. It’s also the case where I hate to throw away all the hours I invested into my crafts… There’s some suffrage id really really like to vindicate. There’s also the very stark realization that if I don’t chase those, I’ll stop chasing. I will effectively give up and let the emptiness consume.

None of us want that.

Thus, I’m back at the grind. While I whole heartedly doubt my salvation will be found in either art or writing. At least they keep me on the path and moving. Who knows, maybe I can settle on redemption.