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purpose

The word 'arteting' with a prohibition sign over it

First, Art. Then, Marketing.

There is Art. And there is Marketing. If you can’t find art in the work that you do, then you’re probably doing it wrong. And if you can’t proclaim the worth of the work that you do, then you probably don’t know what you’re doing. But you can’t extol the virtues while you’re busy manifesting… Read More »First, Art. Then, Marketing.

A strange compromise

I don’t know what to do with this world. I don’t know what to do in it. I don’t seem to have the constitution, the circumstances, the expertise to contribute solutions to its biggest problems. I care deeply, but am impotent. The best I can muster is often to reassess the organisations I donate meagre… Read More »A strange compromise

A convergence

I have always been an over-ambitious and obstinate masochist. I have fought with that, and prided in that, I’ve denied it, and worried I’ve lost it. It has been my downfall on many occasions and, just as often, my only saving grace. I’ve written before about this proclivity, and also about how it seems to… Read More »A convergence

A hard fail

Lately, I keep turning up here with some burning desire to write abut something but, once I arrive, the impulse drains way. It seems, all of a sudden, so meaningless. It feels self-indulgent, and not in a ‘who do I think I am?’ way, which was actually once a driver for me to keep this… Read More »A hard fail

Retrieve the fucks

Someone keeps stealing my fucks. I had a nice week of writing and running the week before last. And all those steps and all those words were pulling my life into order. And all that directed effort was coalescing into a sense of purpose. I was sleeping better, I was eating better, I was doing… Read More »Retrieve the fucks