Forecast

A couple drinks. A couple aspirin. Repeat.
If you've reached middle age and you see how you're never going to be the big famous artist you dreamed of becoming and paint something that will touch and inspire people, really touch and move them and change their lives. You just don't have the talent. You don't have the brains or inspiration. You don't have what it takes to create a masterpiece. If you see how anything you create would just be adding more mediocre shit to a world already crammed with mediocre shit. If you realize you're forty-one years old and you've reached the end of your God-given potential, well, cheers.

Here's mud in your eyes. Bottoms up.
Here's as smart as you're ever going to get.

Just for the record, the weather today is bitter with occasional fits of jealous rage.