We live in an age of instantaneous free, in a world known as the internet. Space and time do not exist for us, all that exists is this and now. On the eighth day God created the internet. And yes, my friends, there is an eighth day. On the internet. And everything is there. For free. Wanna listen to new music? Download it for free. Wanna watch the latest film? Download it for free. Wanna read the latest writing? Read it for free.

Art is creative for those who produce it, but art is consumptive, and the creators depend on that consumption. How many artists could live freely and well off of their art if we paid them what we could, a token to demonstrate our appreciation for how their work has enriched our lives and embiggened our perspective to some degree? An open question, because we don’t think about the creators, we only think about ourselves, and our constant need for more. Our constant craving to take what they give. We are leeches; we are parasites.

Don’t be a parasite. If you feed on music and writing and film and image, feed on it — but do something in return. Those artists are as dependent on you as you are on them. Art is consumptive but don’t suck the marrow dry. Artists starve for their art because no one pays them for it — because they have an obsessive passion to do it or die trying and we have an equally obsession passion to consume it but we don’t want to fucking pay for it. Why would we want to pay for it when we can get it for free? As though “it” comes from some inhuman chasm; some thing that doesn’t need food and such to subsist but survives on ideas alone and regurgitates those ideas so you can eat them like a baby bird. No.

Don’t be a leech. Leeches will latch on and drain their host until the substance is nothing and the form is void. They provide nothing to the host, they simply take and take and take. And that’s all we do. Take and take and take. Support independent artists. If you follow a writer’s blog and they have a donate button on their blog, send ‘em a buck or two. They deserve it. You’ll pay over ten bucks to see a fucking weekend matinee of Batman in the theater this weekend, but you won’t spare a dollar for a writer who touches your soul every day. These independent writers need your dollar more than Warner Bros., et. al. does. For art to press forward we have to support those pioneers who aren’t waiting for huge corporations to give them the stamp of approval — they’re doing it on their own. We are doing it on our own.

We consume more art today than would even have been possible just a few years ago, and yet we pay nothing for it. Independent isn’t always synonymous with free. The trouble with the best art is that it seems effortless and you forget the person behind it. If you appreciate something creative, give that creator a little something back to keep them going. Tell the world what you value and put your money where your mouth is.