Why Expressing Myself is Like Throwing Paint Over Someone’s Money

The Papergirl exhibition has come to Bristol, and the organiser (who happens to be a good friend) asked me to submit something for it. Because I cannot draw, I decided to write some art instead. It’s about having feelings and emotions and hating what other people believe. Hope you like it.

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Why is life worth living? (not by Woody Allen.)

It’s a very good question. Um… Well, There are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile…

For me, uh… ooh… I would say… what, Victoria Wood, to name one thing… uh… and Ben Folds Five… and um… Trois Gymnopedies by Erik Satie… and um… Ready For Love by the EZ Rollerz BUT SPECIFICALLY THE CLIPZ REMIX… um… Vlogbrothers, naturally… Cracked.com…uh… Philip Seymour Hoffman (RIP), Toni Collette… um… any incredible photos I manage to find… uhhh… Toblerone!…… Flula Borg…

Oh and all…my…work what I’m doing?

So, is art the only thing that provides real joy? Above, below and beyond, daily pain and wonder consistently vie for attention, resulting in a need to distract myself forever from all the work.

All the work that has to be done. Globally and personally. Why are we here if not to work, and really hard? (And I don’t mean punching the clock, I mean to put effort into something, anything [and everything] ‘good’.)

Is my desire to kick back (and back, and back) just relativity as it necessarily is? Is all of life, in fact, in perfect balance?

Life feels like a series of distractions, but what is distracting from what exactly?

OH MY GOD. AM I AS MUCH OF A C**T AS WOODY ALLEN?!

(DEADLINE FOR MY OTHER THING IN T-10 HOURS.)Image