This is a test of this blog. I just want to see how the font looks. Maybe I should actually write something. Here's something: I don't want to work right now. Everyday I wake up and imagine my younger 21-year-old artist self kicking me in the nuts if he were to meet me today. On the other hand, my 65-year-old self would hug me and thank me for providing him with healthcare and the loot to get back to being an artist. Where does that leave me now? In a fucking cubicle, no matter how many different angles I view it from. Regret is a bitch, but so is having to eat Ramen every night because you can't get that pizza that sounds fucking awesome when you're blazed for the first time in three months and you've been avoiding dairy for so-called moral reasons. I talk to much.