I am behind, terribly so. Creativity remains a mercurial commodity, flowing from words to music to poster art to photography and all things in between. Work — if I can call it such, because I don’t really get paid — is piling up on all sides, all varieties. Procrastination is a killer. Two weeks till Chicago and the Sunday Night Sex Show. Two weeks left to shit some literary brilliance onto the paper before throwing it to the masses. Already working on a website redesign to accommodate my artwork despite my attempts to keep those aspects of my life separate.
It’s probably time to pull your act together, Christian.
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