paint on brick. I'm an artist of words. It's my blessing as much as my curse, however I'm not blessed with discipline, in fact I'd rather be sleeping or partying at all times. It's not to say that it isn't satisfying to put your own words together. Less satisfying is to share them with random cyberspaces. It's some weird thing within the artist that somehow needs an audience, preferably one that will eventually understand them, and maybe someday give them a hug.
And words are especially important right now, underrated and underpriced, but priceless and invalueable. When people are bouncing off walls of shopping malls and cyber chatrooms looking for gratification first, little take time to say something meaningful, or create something.
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