The Golden Damned seems to be something like an experiment with producing a text that gives zero care for the reader. It’s almost a kind of insult. I’m not sure. But I do enjoy making things that want to entertain, that deliberately communicate in such a way where it secretly can be told that there is attention to detail and care, for the reader. I want to produce something that will cause rapture, but who doesn’t. A lot of the time I don’t feel like a writer because it seems like I’m playing this game where I’m thinking of writing and not actually writing. Or I’m journaling basically about writing but not actually doing the thing. I’m even journaling about how I’m talking about writing but not doing it. It’s too meta. Something. I can’t get at the core of the thing, which is to write. I just need to write the project that gets at the thing, but I don’t do it. It’s frustrating, and the solution is right there in front of me, yet I don’t solve the problem. And I have only myself to blame. Isn’t that just too much? Damn. I don’t know. I ought to write, because you’re never really ready. You have to do the thing even when you can’t do it well. You just have to do it. It’s sort of like a quest, in a way. The unprepared hero must trudge into the fray. I’ve hit an impasse and I need to move on.