Beauty over brain
I’m starting to get so tired of mechanization. With hard mechanization, I run the risk of losing touch with my soft essence. Too goddamned cerebral. And too much information coming at me to do anything with it. None of it means anything. No time to assimilate any sort of a meaning before the next thing comes along.
It’s too much. No wonder there’s no time for introspection, art-making, art-fantasizing, and imagination. Because when I’m not online or watching TV, fucking around, wasting time, I’m doing what I need to do as an adult: working, grocery shopping, paying bills, cleaning house. I’m either being responsible or frittering away my time. Before the Internet, I used to do a good amount of art. Sure I watched too much TV, but I did art concurrently. I read, I wrote. Now I have fucking Facebook, MySpace and Twitter in my brain. Too many happenings in real time to process them all. Fun, but Jesus, it fragments my head. I’m realizing I simply do not have the brain space to devote to that AND my creative life. I need to limit my time online.
My creative life has been withering, cell by cell. I cannot allow this to go any further. I’m turning into a drone. I’m so far away from my creative life that I’ve forgotten what I want to say with it. How DO I feel? What DO I think? What DO I want? Believe? What happened to my romance? My beautiful dark nights? Where has all the beauty gone? It’s become vestigial, an appendix, never used anymore. Never taken out and looked at. The beauty stays hidden in a box on the top shelf of the closet. That’s a crime against nature, man. It’s self-mutilation. Spirit-killer. Wrong, so wrong.
Have to stop this bad, bad habit I’ve allowed to happen. Have to “crush it in its shell”. Or else I’m going to be the walking dead. There’s no fucking way. After I write this, I’m going to work on my painting of the girl with the sword tonight. Someone saved my life tonight—it was me. And every night from this night forward, goddammit. I make a vow to re-commit to art. I’m renewing my vows to you, my love. My first and only love. You keep the color in my cheeks and in my blood. You breathe life into me. And I’ve been neglecting to breathe life back into you. I’m so deeply sorry, my love. Do forgive me, and come back to stay with me. Sit on my knee and touch my imagination again. Enter my room through music again. Come to me in my candles, my colored lights, my incense. Come to me through pretty things. So, so beautiful you are. You make my heart beat faster. My beloved art...I summon thee, I summon thee, I summon thee. I embrace thee...
It’s too much. No wonder there’s no time for introspection, art-making, art-fantasizing, and imagination. Because when I’m not online or watching TV, fucking around, wasting time, I’m doing what I need to do as an adult: working, grocery shopping, paying bills, cleaning house. I’m either being responsible or frittering away my time. Before the Internet, I used to do a good amount of art. Sure I watched too much TV, but I did art concurrently. I read, I wrote. Now I have fucking Facebook, MySpace and Twitter in my brain. Too many happenings in real time to process them all. Fun, but Jesus, it fragments my head. I’m realizing I simply do not have the brain space to devote to that AND my creative life. I need to limit my time online.
My creative life has been withering, cell by cell. I cannot allow this to go any further. I’m turning into a drone. I’m so far away from my creative life that I’ve forgotten what I want to say with it. How DO I feel? What DO I think? What DO I want? Believe? What happened to my romance? My beautiful dark nights? Where has all the beauty gone? It’s become vestigial, an appendix, never used anymore. Never taken out and looked at. The beauty stays hidden in a box on the top shelf of the closet. That’s a crime against nature, man. It’s self-mutilation. Spirit-killer. Wrong, so wrong.
Have to stop this bad, bad habit I’ve allowed to happen. Have to “crush it in its shell”. Or else I’m going to be the walking dead. There’s no fucking way. After I write this, I’m going to work on my painting of the girl with the sword tonight. Someone saved my life tonight—it was me. And every night from this night forward, goddammit. I make a vow to re-commit to art. I’m renewing my vows to you, my love. My first and only love. You keep the color in my cheeks and in my blood. You breathe life into me. And I’ve been neglecting to breathe life back into you. I’m so deeply sorry, my love. Do forgive me, and come back to stay with me. Sit on my knee and touch my imagination again. Enter my room through music again. Come to me in my candles, my colored lights, my incense. Come to me through pretty things. So, so beautiful you are. You make my heart beat faster. My beloved art...I summon thee, I summon thee, I summon thee. I embrace thee...
Comments
Smiles!
Dave