Subway Diary
Sep 7, 2018 · 3 min read
I live with the near constant fear that work — or more fundamentally: the need for money — will kill my creativity. ‘Fear’ might not be the word. I mean something more like immanence; sublime certainty that I’m being slowly crushed in the gears. Every time — every morning — I feel dull or mentally shapeless, I have the higher thought of panic; I tell myself to panic — to not normalize this complacent ok-ness.

