Blog of Billy

Sometimes I wonder why I look at a painting and don't feel transported or contemplative or empassioned or inspired . I listen to poetry and music and know I should be moved to some deeper feeling of love or rage or brilliance or anything, but I don't. Art in all its varied and gorgeous forms does nothing for me. I have no soul.

Blake is the best debater ever, and a really good friend. Lizzi is much the same (well, not the debater part). She's taking me to a wedding in Texas. Should be fun.

State Tournament in debate starts tomorrow, and I'm cutting really boring updates. I have, however, found a use for a History of Science degree. Adam would be pleased.

I'm off to listen to some Simon and Garfunkel, because I think it's the closest I've ever been to really enjoying/appreciating art.

I never enjoyed stream-of-consciousness style talking or writing, since Toni Morrison. It bugs me when I lose my filter late at night.