Where did I go? I dunno, I think I may have just been here.
What did I do? I dunno,
but I seem to have exactly everything I had before I left, except a new poster of a hula-girl.
I guess, all-n-all that's a net gain, but definitely not the massive life-altering increase from squalor to uber-wealthy which I was wishing for.
I guess there's always next year.
So the other day I was in a conversation where someone brought up the bright idea that I was Banksy. I thought this was an astonishingly good suggestion, since about four years ago, I had convinced myself I was living a Fight Club-esque double life as a man named Carlos Delgado. (Not the all-star First Baseman Carlos Delgado, a different one lurking in the Los Angeles underground (like the A-Team))
Anyways, I've had enough people cruise through my world telling me things about how great I am, that in fact, I wouldn't be surprised at all, if it turned out I was in fact, me, Carlos Delgado, and Banksy.
But I'm pretty suspicious.
And here's the reason - I'm lazy, I don't have the passion, my vision for the future is blurry, I lack conviction and beliefs, my idea of art isn't to transform anything, or to educate anyone. It's to take people from a comfortable spot in their own lives, and entertain the fuck out of them. And that's just my idea of art - that doesn't mean I've even come close to creating anything resembling what I'm talking about.
A guy like Banksy, or my other subculture hero Warren Ellis, has built a reputation on some of the most creative and edgy shit that's graced a graphic form - and me? I'm just a slowly aging dude in denial, that just wants to rest in an easychair, enjoying the next six hours in comfort, after putting in an entirely half-assed 8-hour day at a job that would underemploy a crafty 8th grader.
That is what I want. What I seem to get is a little nasty demon inside me that is eating my heart, liver, and lungs saying "do something more." No matter how close to the ideal of either my creations, or my attempts at leisure, that nasty little demon is still in there chomping away. It kinda bugs me.
Anyways, I suppose what I'm trying to get at is - how much impact does working extremely hard, change the way you feel? And how much can extremely hard work really change your exterior world? How many paragraphs, or how many stencils on walls do you need to do before somewhere you create something pretty damn killer. And once you are at the level of "killer" how many of those might you need to make, before they come with a truck full of money, and want to buy them from you?
That's a pretty good question. I'm going to change the analogy here, and just say, an empire might not fall in minutes, but perhaps you've noticed they can disappear pretty fast. But, perhaps you've also noticed that "they" never really talk about how to build an empire, because anyone who's actually talking about it is clearly busy NOT BUILDING AN EMPIRE.
Anyways, regarding not the above, but that paragraph which preceeds it - I'm under the impression, that not such a long, or great amount of time is necessary - and in fact, I am about to propose such a modest number that it will astound and amaze you.
15 minutes a day.
Anything more than that is gravy.
Anything less is simply not trying.
I'm puting this theory to the test. I'll keep you updated.
