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I say god damn, Ben!
I totally agree with you on the urge to build stuff, get your hands dirty. That’s what I’ve always hated about computer work, is that you’ve got no physical evidence to show for it once all’s said and done. Like, what if keyboards needed tons of grease to operate, so that if you typed all day, your hands would be blackened and filthy from the effort, which is why I love doing whatever work I can do on my car myself. You come into the house with filthy hands and grease on your clothes and you’re like, “whew, man, those radials don’t go on easy” or “carborator? more like car-bore-ator!” and other stuff like that. But nope, I’ll program allllll the live long day today and nothing will happen to my body to prove it.
My spirit, now that’s another story. Every day, work 9 to 5, then the O 6 to 10. And yes, okay? I’m writing this letter at work, but the boss isn’t in yet as I slam on the keys at a fever-pace. Yeah, no time to do laundry or get a haircut or pretty much any god damned anything until I leave for NYC straight away from work tomorrow. It’s awful. And I’d say if I had to sit through this one more time I’d kill myself, but I know in my black heart that I’ll have to see it at least another 15 times in its entirety, and I don’t have the guts to really do myself in. Not for this. Not yet.
Every day I imagine what it’ll be like when I don’t have to collaborate with anybody on their own stuff anymore. It’s agony, isn’t it? I feel like I die a little inside when I do it. Because when you’re pouring all your talents into something you really don’t like or think is all that good, your time feels so… robbed.
Just gotta make it through the next ten days though, and then I can once again fill the world with beauty. I’ll shoot a Royal Rainbow from my mouth and bring you all with me to happy town.
You heard me,