(diaryland) February 10, 2011 - 11:16 a.m.

I'm kind of hyperventilating right now because the guy who I designed the house for in the last entry said that he actually wants a Moorish-Movie Star-Fake-Miami-Resort type micro house. Which won't work. And will look bad. And I don't like designing non-pure-modernistic buildings.

I always assumed that I would sell out at the drop of a hat. That I would do things to please clients. Or if I wrote a novel that was actually good, I would change the ending if a publisher said I should make the two main characters get married. Or I would get rid of swears in a song if the record company said.

But now I've found out I'm not actually like that. I have ethics and artistic standards. That freaks me out. I said I'd never be that kind of righteous wanker. The kind of up-themselves person who refuses to watch American comedies. The sort of person who considers some things to be 'below' them.

I don't want anything to be 'below' me. I want to be among the dregs.