Come On Ride The Train
The glory of being an artist; a creative soul who commits to something that only leads to a stronger sense of separation… conversations that require alcohol, and nothing is remembered of its most intriguing peaks.
Sometimes I think that a business mind is ideal. The business mind makes money and it never appears to be lost. If it isn’t successful, its on its way.
Feeling is all we have. We can only share it in what we create. But the luck is in if anybody connects to it.
Art is too accessible. It’s unappreciated now. We want information. No, we want entertainment still. I entertain myself with inspirational anecdotes. Most entertain themselves with jack-off humor, pop-culture, or conspiracy theories on youtube. We’re all consumers anymore. We measure our intellect with the quality of genres that our minds devour. We’re all doing the same thing unless we’re creating. Why not create every day? Why not every hour?
This is our destiny, every action we take. This is our life. And we’re facebooking it away with status updates. We’re wishing for trashy ego-supporting connections. We’re wanting to buy stuff that supports our fake identities. We want love, not for love’s sake, but so something/someone will approve of the bullshit we’ve “added” to ourselves… and hopefully they’ll support us for life, so we get married.
And, when everyone else has made that choice, you start to wonder if you’re the only one left who needs to sign up just to see what’s missing.
