The Obscure

Wall to wall feces, all day, every day.
Lookit me ever'body, I'm up on time for school this mawnin. And I feel like my face is melting, into weird, drippy, cylindrical pieces. Like it's in some kind of cylindrically inclined microwave which, in turn, loves Expostulation!
I was born a Dictionarian Man.
So anyway, I've got an hour before I have to leave for school. I'm going to have to shower quicker than usual, and drink this coffee up pretty fast because otherwise I will die. This'll be the first whole day of school I've seen in over a month.
The Question, m'lads, is whether or not I give a damn.

So the other day, right? I'm sitting on this chair hair, minding my own business, when along comes this hoppinin', poppinin', lil dopplegangly hupzi-doozit. He says to me, "Hey Man, what's going on?" and I'm all like, "Duuuuuuuude, you don't even want to KNOW."
That never happened. I was using poetic license. Licensed to quill.
Get it? Quill. Pens. Poetry.
Wazam! ...that was the best I could do.

Oh god, I love coffee.
Not quite as much as I love horrible bowel movements, but close.

*Additions, munitions, fuzzdilly whum*
So I'm adding more text to this now, about twenty minutes later. I didn't feel like making a SECOND blog post, you know what I'm saying? Yeah, I think you know what I'm saying. Yeah, that's right. You know it.

So, teen angst. What's it all about? I mean, come on!
Am I right here?
Seriously.

I need to devote my life to drawing. It's stupid, I know, because when it all comes down to the bare bones, I'm not great at it. I looked at the stuff I used to do, like two years ago, and man... I don't have natural drawing ability, just tenacity. But, this is a democracy, and it's tenacity-ruled, or something.
I have things I want to do, but I don't know how to do them. I just need to get STARTED one of these days. I know if I had the motivation I could make something read-worthy, or at least glance-worthy.
Or maybe I couldn't, but man, it's worth the effort, you know? Why just sit around and stagnate, with the opportunity to create (comic books, in my case, but it could be music or plumbing or something else crazy as well) sitting right in my lap, just taking up space?
Because I don't know what I'm doing, that's why. I can't combine my odd, only-funny-to-me sense of humor with my odd only-looks-like-what-it-is-supposed-to-be-to-Me artwork, I don't know how.
Maybe someday I will, but I keep on givin' up.

Anyway, that was my stupid disillusioned rant for the morning. What a way to start of the day, fweakin' dazz.
(Completed at: 6:30 AM)