Where am I and what happened to my pants?

Although always asked in a rhetorical manner, that question has seen it's share of use in the past and what of it? Life is like that. One minute all is well, you've got yourself a new car and a hot date. The next you're in a bathtub missing your spleen.

And what am I trying to say with all this?

Perhaps it comes down to the issues at hand. Censorship. Or, more appropriately, self-censorship. Who are you and why don't you want anyone to know that you love midget-clown porn? The embarrassment aspect is obvious but then, isn't that then
reinforced by the hiding of your desires and playing along with the perceived normalcy?

This is perhaps more important for me, at this moment, simply because of my bizarre and terrible project that is my website. The gist of it is simple "An experiment in completion". But what is completion? Is it simply the sum total of one's work as an artist? Or, on a much grander scale, is it their entire life if life truly is art?

If it is life then what gets left out and what doesn't? Does the mention of a wank get spot on the site? Is that too mundane? Banal? etc.? Or does that in some terrible way make sense and add to the meaning and purpose of an individual?

What, if the goal is to be a true person, should be forsaken for the norms?

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