unreachable

My wish list.
I wish I didn't care.
I wish I had no ambition.
What fun it would be to work my job and then go home and drink, chase girls, watch TV, eat potatoe chips (in no particular order)
Nope, I have to be an artist. I mean, I HAVE to be an artist. God that sucks. I wish I didn't care. I wish I didn't see the emptyness of every day life, or at least, I wish the emptyness didn't bother me. There is nothing to gain thru art. Life does not become this overflowing pot of meaning because I choose to create.
Of course I know why. It isn't the ends that justify being an artist. No one changes the world. It is the experience of creating. It's because none of those other things (watching TV, drinking, eating potatoe chips) will "do it" for me anymore. Notice I didn't include chasing girls. (because it's still so much fun when you first catch 'em)
Anyway, Insignificant Gods #4 is on it's way. Back from the printers any day now. Onward with book #5.
Being an artist is so much more interesting than eating potatoe chips... except sometimes I wish it wasn't.