This is my life in this article, folks. It might even be your life. It's certainly the life of millions.That life made for my financial cesspit and broke up my family, among other, lesser miseries. And if you're like me, you couldn't have stopped before it all went wrong and you can't stop now. Such is the creative life. It's like a gambling addiction.
The alternative, the way to give your passion more than minutes a day, is to quit your job and live in your car, if you're lucky enough to have a car. Otherwise, it's the street for you. I'm too much of a coward to do that, so I deserve what I've got.
But I make things. You might make things too. Millions like us do. I makes stories and a podcast and I made a novel and other little things. I think even the lowliest maker of things is a better human being than Alexander the Great or Napoleon, or any of the thousands of other military marvels or world leaders, because they all destroyed lives, they destroyed people.
We make things.
We make things for ten goddamned minutes a night sometimes, but we make things. We do it because we don't have any other choice and we'll squeeze it in where we can, rather than abandon it.
And most of all, because it's all we've fucking got.
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