I don't feel much in the way of expectations from people. I'm sure this is due mainly to the hot, swirling pool of privilege I'm drowning in. I do however impose huge expectations on myself that tend to manifest into both drive and guilt. Drive is wonderful and exciting. Its fulfilling and far better half the time then what you do with it. Guilt however, is purely destructive, corrosive and degrading. Its pulls apart most good situations I find or put myself in. I can pin that to me taking myself so goddamn seriously. Thinking what I could do is going to be important or interesting. With this expectation, there is no way I'm going to get there. Shit turns quickly into me wanking cum onto paper through a pencil or into pretentious pieces of writing full of larger than life sounding bullshit. No one, especially myself, wants to see or read that garbage. Once I lighten up and assume something is going to start, and more likely than not, end in shit, it allows m...
Blog by Melbourne cartoonist Ry Hamilton-smith, mostly optimistic nihilism poetry and creative writing.