I want to sketch. I want to paint. I want to write a novel. I want to fuck everyone in the world, etc. So many different, conflicting, energy-demanding desires, and so little time. It's a constant battle with myself to crawl out of my hole. Or, at least. to crawl out the part of my hole that takes the least effort to reside in, and to crawl into the part that leaves me exposed but expressive and productive. Routine is probably what's going to save me right now. And I never would have thought I'd say that. At least it's not the routine of monotony.

Sometimes it feels like the world is giving me a sign that I might be on the right track at least. I went to the art supply store on Friday, to pick up some foam brushes for gesso-ing (since all of mine seemed to have vanished), a new paint brush, and a canvas, because really. You can never have too much canvas. You can, however, spend too much on canvas. So I picked a 24 by 36, which was marked as 30 dollars, and took everything to the counter. The total was 15 dollars, which made the canvas... 10. 10 dollars for a thirty dollar canvas. I should have bought more. But I suppose for now, I should try to fill up the canvas I have. Any volunteers for subjects?