A Pessimist's View of Art. Here's the first paragraph of something I wrote last semester... a small piece of fiction that, for one reason (laziness) or another (laziness), never panned out. Some days (like today) this whole paragraph really holds true for me. Others, it doesn't. Anyway...

"I like things that are tragic. I like watching movies where one lover dies and the other is left to loathe their very existence until they succumb to old age and wither away with someone who they love not nearly as much as their deceased beloved. I love watching TV shows that end on an unhappy note… where the final limbo that the characters end up in is so bitingly painful to even think about that I’d really consider never watching the network again. It’s because pain is true... and I crave truth; especially in fiction."

It's almost metafiction, really... not even that. I dunno that I'd really consider it fiction, taken as I've given it to you. Only once I give the character/narrator a different name do I feel that I can distance myself from those feelings... if even then. In fact, you'd almost confuse me for saying that I love melodrama. Hell.... on some days, even that is true. When I form a firm opinion all of this, you all will be the first to know... ye faithful subscribers to these small, languid representations of my exciting life.

Someday I'll be a good writer, and what I write won't try to be so self-gratifying... so revolutionary. It'll just be, and that'll be... good.