Monday, September 7, 2009
I have to stop. Or I have to slow down. Or I need someone or something to mitigate this. I am sitting here at 4 am obsessing about the industry. I've spent hours reading about how people make their bitters. I think about doing concept menus based on Velvet Underground records. I obsess about concepts and perfection in a world where I know, I know, it is unattainable. I'm half in the bag reading other people's resumes. I work a slow week and it clocks in around 60 hours. I eat, sleep, and breathe it. I am afraid that I am Ahab. What then?