An essentially photorealistic depiction of my ferocious laziness, executed in watercolor by the superior Tully Mills. Don’t stand in the way of my sloth; bringing errands to me while I’m savoring indolence can be fatal; my lassitude is an attitude I will kill to preserve.
(Stopping short of violence, I’m even willing to cite a defense of idleness in an age of intemperate frenzy and distraction. Nothing is more corrosive to intelligence than the ceaselessly busy lives to which we aspire: so many hobbies, so many routines, so much to enjoy! Life becomes a checklist, identity a matter of doing, and reflection becomes utterly impossible; after all: how can you manifest reflection to others? How can it appear on a screen? And if it cannot appear on a screen, cannot be exemplified by a star, what could its point possibly be?).


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