at least steinbeck would have been on my side
I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I’ve lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment
i guess it doesn’t matter if you do or don’t know what your art is all about, because the old rich dudes who might buy it won’t know the difference anyway
I figured (hoped) it was only a matter of time before thoughts and ideas began to manifest as words that could be spoken and understood. But damn I forgot how good it feels when things start to come together.
I’m in a jungle with a machete, hacking my way through my subconscious, clearing new paths while a storm of synapses fire around me.
Epiphany is too strong a word. So is breakthrough or realization—I’m beginning to see that my thought processes are much more amorphous and omnidirectional.
But it really does feel great to regain some of the trust I had in myself to create, and to do it with passion and authenticity.
See you on the other side, friends—it’s lighter than you think.