Bo Burnham: Inside

Bo Burnham: Inside

there's something poisonous about being forcibly stuck inside as a person who views creative work as their life's goal; when there's nothing to do but create, your mind starts to eat itself and make you feel bad for not being able to create even more. there's nothing scarier than unrealized potential and the sands of that hourglass aren't going to stop just because the outside world has. even when that potential is realized, then you gotta be afraid that it isn't good enough and that the only thing worse than never having realized that potential, is realizing your potential isn't as good as you'd hoped it was. time is a curse, only made moreso by the meaningless benchmarks we make– as if accomplishments are more valuable before you're 30 than after.

self-plug: i wrote a segment on the amber ruffin show recently about this very feeling, and it makes me sad to know we're all going to think of this year in terms of our squandered creative potential. but i only bring it all up now because i can tell that bo struggled with this feeling, just as much as i am, just as much as everyone logging this and lamenting their own comparative lack of creative output seems to be, and i can only imagine how cathartic it was for him to have made and released this thing in spite of it all. i'm sure he'll deny it all the same, but this is undeniable proof of talent. equal parts mental/cultural commentary and satellite transmissions from an astronaut adrift. a wonderful piece of art that also serves as a meta-commentary on the fulfilling/obsessive nature of creative work, and how it feels to let your work both function as your great motivator and your great destroyer.

anyway if i don't get to hear those mf sesame street songs he wrote i'm going to kill myself

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