November Nineteenth

Today I feel like giving up.
It is somewhat tragic when you have a degree in your hobby.
I don’t know what to do

how  to start,

where to go.

What am I looking for? (Hah, desperate cliche)

Art only generates a comfortable living for the very sparse elite.
For the rest of the pleb there is Instagram –
to fool ourselves and our followers that the glory is tangible.

Hail the Hashtag

I mean, yeah, maybe I should film my daily life in the hopes of generating some income.

( HEEeeeYYY ggUUUUYzzZZZ  – today I am going to Tesco in my pyjamas, because I am instafamous yet so #relatable)

They perhaps were the real geniuses.
Showcasing their lavish lives, in exchange for never asked for goods, and money.

(Never asked for money is the best kind of money.)

But then,
I think of Bukowski.

If he did it,
I can do something too.
Maybe tomorrow,
Today, I feel like giving up.