September 1, 2010

we’re incredible beings.

[“Awake”, the print I fea­tu­red in this Monday’s news­let­ter etc.]

We’re inc­re­di­ble beings. And I want to make and sell art that maybe, just maybe, makes peo­ple think, even for a short while, that I’m not wrong, either.

[I can think of worse ways to make a living. Lord knows, we’ve all tried a few of those…]

So yeah, we’re inc­re­di­ble beings. But it’s not enough to believe it; you actually have to live it. Even if you’re going to fail. most of the time. That’s where the REAL work lies.

But hey, at least you tried.

Life is short, Peo­ple. You’re going to be dead soon. So fric­kin’ go do something about it. Fric­kin’ go do something that mat­ters. Seriously.

Thanks for hea­ring my rant. God Bless…

"Hugh's Daily Cartoon" Newsletter. A new cartoon sent out every weekday morning to your inbox [RSS version here.]. A wee chuckle to start your day off right etc.

2 Responses to “we’re incredible beings.”

  1. Today I got up and stub­bed my toe, cut my face sha­ving, ran out of soap and had no towel to dry off with. My clothes clung to me as I slip­ped them on, now they are damp. The air outside is cold and my face comes alive with every little move­ment. My toe is calling me with every step, hello toe.

    Did you feel that breeze, freshe­ning is it not.

    What a great day this is, I hope I take the chance to fail more today.

  2. jonny O says:

    Beau­ti­ful, Hugh.

    Have you ever been to Bur­ning Man?

    Under­neath the hype, the tren­di­ness, the jumped-the-shark snark, the poli­tics, the bitchi­ness, the super­fi­cia­lity and the hipper-than-hipster cred that comes from atten­ding, there is a throb­bing core that embo­dies exactly what you’ve writ­ten in this post.

    An exam­ple: Last time I went, I cam­ped next to this Israeli family. Two patriarchs, their wives, their seven kids. They’d built a giant xylophone out of pneu­ma­tic piping, pedal powe­red, using ping-pong balls to play notes. Brought it from Israel. I hel­ped them set it up on the Playa. They invi­ted me to join their family din­ners. As we par­ted ways at dawn after the Man had been bur­ned, I held hands with the two patriarchs in their tra­di­tio­nal ges­ture and we sha­red quiet words of hope for the future. One of the most sublime moments of my life.

    I think you’d find something similar…

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