I've been worried about money a lot lately. Touchy subject, I know. But fair. You're probably thinking "Jesus, who isn't worried about money, dude, seriously?" But there's always that rising feeling that something may happen and you won't have the means to cover your ass.
I see all walks of life in and out of Philadelphia, barreling down Route 611 toward New Hope, and back down into the valley of central Pennsylvania. The Nouveau Riche spending on lattes with faces of celebrities drawn in foam as little kids give their family pet to the humane society so that single mothers can afford groceries. There are a billion examples. However, paying attention to those examples is what gets some meaningful writing done.
Hope keeps desperation at bay. And, knowing that the emerging writers of the past found their voice, as well as their masterpieces, while they became survivalists of society, well... that drives me.
My case isn't as bad as most. Not even close. It's just an interesting topic to ponder before you sign another rent check. But... Then again, isn't it also interested that the easier it gets for people to sign away that rent check, the more they lose touch with what's most important in life? I'm sure you know where I'm going with that.
Okay, I'm done thinking about it... For now at least.
I feel better.
By the way...
Beat Night at New Hope Arts is tomorrow. Details are as follows:
Hope to see you there.
Cheers,
~Ryan
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