What is ultimately to be gained? This is the bottom line of human motivation. Cui bono—who benefits?
Is the point of existence to be as fully engaged as we can and forget all about trying to figure out if this is what we are “supposed” to be doing with our time? Or is it to wait until there’s a clear signal to move, even if it means doing nothing at all for the rest of our lives?
What’s the difference between working an honest wage and trying to promote one’s creative work so as to eventually earn some income? Is there even such thing as “an honest wage”?
Here we have another shade of the groundhog’s shadow. Not feeling enraged with others for ignoring my efforts, but somehow embarrassed with myself for making such an effort to begin with.
Embedded in me is the idea that to offer myself up to others is whorish. Of course I can’t say “whorish” anymore; now I need to say “sex workerish”—which is patently absurd because what I am offering has nothing to do with sex and I am not even selling it but offering it for free. I guess that makes me a slut?
(Watch me digging the hole deeper with every word.)
As an artist, to take pride in the work means I am not supposed to care whether anyone else recognizes what I am doing or not. But if I really take pride in it, wouldn’t I want as many people to see it as possible?
Jack Torrance wanders the labyrinth while working on the great American novel: a single line, repeated endlessly until the end of time.
In the beginning was the word, but the word was an incoherent howl.
And that’s as far as we ever get.