Millions Uncounted

Posted: June 18, 2012 in Uncategorized

It’s not fair, that when you’re young an inspiration can come in the form of an empty cardboard box or a bed sheet, and then when you’re old enough to turn inspiration to action, everything seems so droll and unremarkable. Maybe the part of the brain that develops language crowds out the overactive imagination, maybe we do really use all of our brains, but we just move the 10% around that seems most relevant to us.

And so it stands that I am actually forcing the words and pictures out, on request, by editors and publishers and lovers and fans, to put ink on parchment and produce. I know it is the right thing to do, I know that it must be done and hell, I even like when it happens. But I feel every time it’s done a muse dies, a light from heaven turns off as mankind realizes that they can just consume their drugs and turn on or off the various voices chirping in the mind. That we can make something from nothing when we started only to make something from something else.

We are not alchemists, we are sculptors, and without my block of marble I am only hiding the truth.

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