A blah on a blah afternoon

My precursors would say there was always something to look for after the age of thirty. It was either exploring the raw physical beauty of a woman or the satisfaction of our sensual appetite which could only resemble that of a baboon with all its physical condiments. My sexual journey has sort of ended with a moral excuse. My learning has ended with a financial excuse. The background of my everyday life is rudely completed by an exchange of monotonous yet necessary interactions. My daily living is like the completion of an assignment that i neither wish to fail nor wish to excel. As i tap the deep crevices of my intellect, all i can hear are the hollow resonating sounds of empty ideas. I am trying to look for that conducive canvas where i can paint my ideas. I am still searching, if any of you see one, do tell.