Stand-in for a Placeholder

In a moment of hubris which has become a yearly tradition, a certain white male blogger with pretensions to blog every day for a month recently spat out this gem of a sentiment:

...for a field of endeavor so often and so loudly criticized for representing, literally or figuratively, the interests of male aristocrats and colonists, it is today difficult to locate which upper class privileges, exactly, are being enjoyed by any but the most conventionally successful artists

That none of the many Facebook comments I've managed to elicit so far this month have yet seized on the discussion(s) which an investigation of this claim might open up has been a disappointment, but only a mild one. That's because if pressed I might just unleash a tidal wave of angry white male angst about how my once-a-day project was, inevitably, interrupted by a distinctively underprivileged day, a day which stretched straight from 6am to midnight, a day which involved 7.5 hours of my life being pissed away standing around in front of a gate, a day which incorporated a round trip between LA and San Bernardino, and a day during which I literally had not one spare moment to get up even a generic placeholder post, as I have occasionally done in past years under similar circumstances. Admittedly, it also was a day where, in the final judgment, my work likely will have been more furthered than hindered, perhaps significantly so depending on myriad remaining unknowns. And so when I'm told that every day as a straight white male is a day of privilege, I'm inclined to take the sentiment at face value; when I am told the same thing about being an artist, though, I simply have to chuckle under my breath.

And so, as I write this again having awoken at 5am and again having caught only a fractional quantity of my customary afternoon naptime, I suspect I am by now carrying what the sleep doctor calls "crushing" sleep debt, aka living in "the twilight zone." Under such circumstances I fear posting as much as not posting; but here it is anyway for what it's worth, which is probably not much. Yes, I have a roof over my head; no, I am not particularly privileged at the moment; yes, I could have majored in biochemistry and now be depriving myself of sleep for a more noble, or at least lucrative, cause; and no, I don't have anything more elaborate or well-thought-out to say about all of this, at least not at the moment. For that, I regret to report you'll likely have to catch me on weekends and holidays while contenting yourself with thinner gruel during the week. G'night then.