Sometimes, you just have to make crap. Forget creating anything good, anything worth sharing. Sometimes, you just need to indulge the shamelessly horrid artist in you, and let it all about. Because art is about expressing, not getting it right. Art is not about answers, but about the search, the process of finding answers. Who cares if you make a shit-ton of crap before you make something beautiful?
I really need to make some crap. I need to be like a monkey and just fling poo all over my screen. I've reached the point where I'm being too careful, too concerned with perfection and "getting it right" that the creativity and freedom has left my art, my writing. So it's midnight after a long Tuesday; I should sleep. But you know what? I need to write crap more. I'll be exhausted tomorrow, but who cares? My creativity and ability to express is dying. I'd rather be exhausted than have no creativity.
So I won't sleep tonight. When you read this, I'll probably be gulping down some tea in an attempt to make up for lost sleep and get through the day. But I will have gotten the crap out of me. I will be the proud author of shit, the proud painter of a poop splatter. Of course, it's not like I'm going to let you ever see the crap, but you'll see what comes out after that's out of my system and made room for the prettier, less stinky stuff to come out. It'll be nice.
Maybe you should go fling poo too.
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