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I can't stand this feeling. I can't sit still. I can't focus. Nothing is inspiring. I don't want to work on anything. I notice everything. My fingers are cold. My neck is sore. Its the perfect day to design. Dark grey clouds cover the sky, and cold rain has been pouring for two days. The projects feel like a waste of time. They suck the creative life out of my body every second that I work on them. I'm craving creative freedom - I want to shake the world by its core. I want people to see my work and be stunned - by the message - by the imagery - by the artisitic craftsmanship. Instead - I crank out two more newspaper ads for a small telecom in Southern Utah. I feel the craving of late night spray can missions begining to build inside. The rush of adrenaline that consumes me the second I walk out of my front door. That first whiff of paint. Holding two different kinds of caps in my mouth for easy access - the taste of toxic chemicals on my lips. Its freedom - tell George.
January 04, 2005 | Random Shit | PermaLink | Comments (0)
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