No one should ever work.
Work is the source of nearly all the misery in the world. Almost any evil you’d care to name comes from working or from living in a world designed for work. In order to stop suffering, we have to stop working.
— Bob Black, The Abolition of Work
I can’t get these words out my head.
They’re so apposite, so portentous and capture the zeitgeist of my current predicament.
Actually, it’s not current.
It’s the whole thing.
And then I start looking for someone to blame:
parents
teachers
friends
family
culture.
They’ll all in the mix but mostly I blame myself for being so weak, so ill-disposed to cutting the ties with a bygone era.
It’s at this stage that that ornery little invoice jumps into the fray and chastises me for thinking I could be something other than a cog in the behemoth machine.
What was I thinking?
Me, an artist!
Don’t be stupid.
You’re a dilettante.
Pure and simple.
Sure, I tried to pull the pin a few times but I was always brought down to earth with a bump.
But what a waste of a life.
Like so many others.
Blessings and much love, Julian