i am a computer baby.

goddamnit.

i remember writing i was holding a pen strong enough to break the roman phallus.

i am a failure. 2000 years of human history since the so called savior and now we've had computers readily accessible for the mundane employee for the past fifteen years and now here i am. i remember seeing myself as a child, hunched over a pile of plastic, looking for the right piece, or sitting at a computer, making greeting cards for my grandparents because i thought colored pencils turned out shitty (because i just wasn't good enough). lately i have been equally hunched over: my back.

a very bad posture.

no more disillusionment. i am failure with good, breathing ideas based on things like life and embarrassement, and humility, and organics in the face of impermenance. to have a good idea is to have a good idea. to be so called successful is to have an idea, not good or bad, and being capable of capitalize on it. instead, i'm in a city bigger than my ego, stuck in traffic jams i have no control over. i wanted to make a great film but i don't have the time but i should have the time after all I'm UNEMPLOYED. and breaking.


...
i'm going to make a series of these every morning, and work on an animation about a guy that almost dies and goes home to have sex with his wife, despite epiphany.