um. right. ok...
optimistic. positive. be happy... im working on it.
i am sometimes. strange happy moments.
like lying at the foot of the airstrip, hoping the police wouldnt see me, falling asleep - but everytime a plane would take off over me itd wake me up. it was windy and sunny and i was so sleepy... mmm. that was nice.
i was thinking tonight about that there are two
things to do in this life
the things that are the things we are supposed to do
and that make sense , make money , or make friends , garner respect..
the right things. like finishing this stupid article im writing, that makes me more of a professor or whatever.
and then the things that have no particular value to anyone but turn me on like crazy. and heres the thing: those second kind of things have more to do with making art - i mean they can lead to it, or be part of it -- they might even be necessary for it -- but - for me at least - they arent it. this is hard to explain. too bad... um. ok. its like the mysterious feeling i get because i believe in something, which i cannot put into words. a person one i dont even talk to anymore. the artist in her. that we canwork together. its just that i believe in it. its not like it creates anything- not directly. maybe it never will. or maybe, like the opera , it will again. see it the thing relates to art. but isnt art. a woman came up to me while i was drinking a coffee on the sidewalk in... san francisco - damn really nice cafe. great coffee... well known. trying to remember its name. anyway, so she walks up to me and says, didnt i see you on stage the other night? and i said yes, and she said she was still thinking about it. trying to fully understand it. to absorb it. what a compliment. and i can remember that, and believe that this leads to something. in its way. even if it seems
very
crazy now.
and i can only really survive living with it
because im taking so fucking much drugs...
but that will change. everything will.
. anyway. i love you all! thanks for your comments and notes!
optimistic. positive. be happy... im working on it.
i am sometimes. strange happy moments.
like lying at the foot of the airstrip, hoping the police wouldnt see me, falling asleep - but everytime a plane would take off over me itd wake me up. it was windy and sunny and i was so sleepy... mmm. that was nice.
i was thinking tonight about that there are two
things to do in this life
the things that are the things we are supposed to do
and that make sense , make money , or make friends , garner respect..
the right things. like finishing this stupid article im writing, that makes me more of a professor or whatever.
and then the things that have no particular value to anyone but turn me on like crazy. and heres the thing: those second kind of things have more to do with making art - i mean they can lead to it, or be part of it -- they might even be necessary for it -- but - for me at least - they arent it. this is hard to explain. too bad... um. ok. its like the mysterious feeling i get because i believe in something, which i cannot put into words. a person one i dont even talk to anymore. the artist in her. that we canwork together. its just that i believe in it. its not like it creates anything- not directly. maybe it never will. or maybe, like the opera , it will again. see it the thing relates to art. but isnt art. a woman came up to me while i was drinking a coffee on the sidewalk in... san francisco - damn really nice cafe. great coffee... well known. trying to remember its name. anyway, so she walks up to me and says, didnt i see you on stage the other night? and i said yes, and she said she was still thinking about it. trying to fully understand it. to absorb it. what a compliment. and i can remember that, and believe that this leads to something. in its way. even if it seems
very
crazy now.
and i can only really survive living with it
because im taking so fucking much drugs...
but that will change. everything will.
. anyway. i love you all! thanks for your comments and notes!