Where do we go from here?

There is so much in the world to be discovered. So many people whom history forgets. I would like to pin them to a wall and write a small plaque about the triviality of the search for meaning.

In other news, I’ve found my meaning. By which mean I know what I have to do, I just don’t know what that things is yet.
(Hell makes sense.)

Let me re-phrase. I want to latch on to the next thing. I need to find something new, the next medium, that I can be the Balzac of, or the Shakespeare, or the Cervantes or the Beatles of. I need to find something that’s in its juvenile years, like Orson Welles did with cinema, or the early Broadway greats…
That’s where I’ll be at home. I’ll know it when I find it, but it’s an astounding thing to think that my place in the world has not been invented yet. I’m pretty sure of that. Or maybe it has, I’m just gonna fuck around with it so much you won’t recognize it.

My job is hard work but fun. Plus I get a 25% discount at King of Knives! I’m the dish-washing, chopping shit up MASTA.

Babies.