Day #638:Sing in your own voice.

Picasso was a terrible colorist. Turner couldnʼt paint human beings worth a damn. Saul Steinbergʼs formal drafting skills were appalling. T.S. Eliot had a full-time day job. Henry Miller was a wildly uneven writer. Bob Dylan canʼt sing or play guitar. But that didnʼt stop them, right?

So I guess the next question is, “Why not?” I have no idea. Why should it?

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