(no subject)
Sometimes I wonder if, in the grand order of things, anything I do is going to matter. I don't mean this in some melancholy way. I mean, my life has enough meaning for me to like living it and I think that's most of what matters. I'm talking about legacy here. The funny thing about legacies or impacts or all the rest of that junk is that its all incredibly selfish. No matter how you define the idea, it's all about you; your name, your work, your future even when you're past the point of actually having a future. To be a bit morose, it's a future for the dead.
I think you can probably blame my daughter for this. Or maybe that British guy I spend a lot of time with who, as I write this, is reading over his lines for his next long day of writing history for someone who is already dead, but who has a lot of explaining to do.
I'll leave the explaining for him. Honestly, it doesn't really matter. It's all time and fate and stuff better left explored in art, not reality. I think I'm going to end on a hello.
Hello, everyone.
I think you can probably blame my daughter for this. Or maybe that British guy I spend a lot of time with who, as I write this, is reading over his lines for his next long day of writing history for someone who is already dead, but who has a lot of explaining to do.
I'll leave the explaining for him. Honestly, it doesn't really matter. It's all time and fate and stuff better left explored in art, not reality. I think I'm going to end on a hello.
Hello, everyone.