Sympathy for the Devil (the death of art)I sit here in my jammies... or whatever it is im wearing.. contemplating my place in the world of art and the world of irony.
You see, I'm doing an art course. Nothing fancy.
And whatta you know? My art is worse than ever and i do less of it now.
Funny old world aint it.
As i sit in stuffy rooms with stuffy art teachers i cant help but feel constapation creeping up on me... creative and other. Its like a taking a mouthful of the proverbial pie and finding half a cockroach.
I feel disgusted to know myself, how could anyone lose their creativity to the masses as easily as I?
Maybe thats what it takes to be a good artist.. kissing ass.
A wall has been hit and is now toppling towards the wreckage to finish the job.
The essence is gone.
In short, I used to have a soul but it think i lost it amongst 20 different types of paper and the 40 million different 2b pencils. But then again its probably just somewhere amongst all the essays i have to write.
Mortified
