You say the thing, you say, you’re gonna do it.
You shut out the noise. All the noise. All the fat fucks with their pile of dogshit that they carry on their little golf boogies like it’s something worth paying attention to.
You do your own thing.
Maybe you move somewhere. You look at the painted ceramic tiles, you say, how nice, and you smile. It is a smile of acceptance. Others do things worth doing, not just you. Sometimes, you want to know them, the creators, who they are, what they do, sometimes not — it is enough to understand and admire, when merited, what they did.
But then you go back to yourself, as you must, to what you are.
It involves an abstraction.
There are codes, and languages, and things to check.
Should you do this? Engage in it, or not?
Can you. still, or if you have not done it before, can you at all?
Props must be given to what went before. But then…
The field is vast.
Where’s my slice in?