I am 21, with a half-birthday a month and a half away, and I have, to show for my age, a defunct rock band, multiple half baked stories, numerous poor paintings, a handful of vapid poems, a slew of unformed ideas, a lifeless blog, and precious little time to get them out.
Tomorrow morning I'm going to wake up, walk a dog, eat coffee cake, and read American Psycho some more. Then, I am going to force myself to write something. Perhaps it will go on this blog. Perhaps it will in some aspect be a work of visual art, e.g. a comic or graphic novel segment. Perhaps I will merely email it to somebody.
I have the time if I make the time.