There is a delight in writing that only comes after banging ones head against a wall for weeks prior. Refusal to just do it while that grey lump of brain insists...do it. The same with painting. you can resist but eventually you give in. And you drink. And you smoke because it is all tangled up together.
The therapist suggests I make lists. So that I can survive in real life and, like, know what day it is and do my job and pay bills. I forget things. Some sort of anxious mania takes over. buzzing and moving about. I should set up a schedule she says. But the thing is...i like the energy. Bc i get it so rarely and when i do, it just feels so good to be alive.
I've started walking. Jogging. My hip is bad. No doctor can tell me why, it just hurts. I suppose f'ed it up when I was not eating and running a million miles a day. I dont know. Take it easy take it slow. It is just five pounds, but it is five pounds that need to go.
I am painting the city. I didn't mean too. At first I painted the live oaks. But now it is the city and the bridge and that weird tragic dome. All patched up with the light show and all. I need to sell these paintings. My bank account has dwindled to nothing. I dont even know why, its so frusterating to keep up with money. Numbers floating around, they come and go. Not as pretty as insects or leaves. Seasons and dollars measuring it all.
I am older. You will be too. You think you know honesty but when you become invisible is when you know the truth. and when it knows you.
The therapist suggests I make lists. So that I can survive in real life and, like, know what day it is and do my job and pay bills. I forget things. Some sort of anxious mania takes over. buzzing and moving about. I should set up a schedule she says. But the thing is...i like the energy. Bc i get it so rarely and when i do, it just feels so good to be alive.
I've started walking. Jogging. My hip is bad. No doctor can tell me why, it just hurts. I suppose f'ed it up when I was not eating and running a million miles a day. I dont know. Take it easy take it slow. It is just five pounds, but it is five pounds that need to go.
I am painting the city. I didn't mean too. At first I painted the live oaks. But now it is the city and the bridge and that weird tragic dome. All patched up with the light show and all. I need to sell these paintings. My bank account has dwindled to nothing. I dont even know why, its so frusterating to keep up with money. Numbers floating around, they come and go. Not as pretty as insects or leaves. Seasons and dollars measuring it all.
I am older. You will be too. You think you know honesty but when you become invisible is when you know the truth. and when it knows you.
2 comments:
i'm not sure i equate giving in to writing and painting with giving in to smoking and drinking, although i do both of the last two.
i wonder if you drew this blog post what it would look like.
The reason I say that is because writing and painting are sort of a compulsion for me. Sometimes, I feel like life would be easier if I was not so misguided (or guided) by this lust to be an artist. It is almost self destructive bc it is not a lucrative career, it absorbs tons of time and energy and makes me more isolated from people. I think for some people, the act of creating is the OPPOSITE of destructive; it is like therapy or healing but so often for me....i dont know...it isn't. I dont know how to manage the creative part of my brain, I guess. Unfortunately.
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