Right. I refuse to be a romantech blog apologist. I mean, I am, and I don’t care.
This is my damn blog, if I want to be depressed and miserable most of the time then that’s literally, my problem.
All anyone needs to worry about is whether my primary content, my songs and such are any good. This is just my journal. This is just you peering in on my little therapy session while I keep my writing skills sharp for a day hopefully soon when I will write things that people actually want to read again because I can’t see them wanting to read this.
They wanted to read my myspace, that’s all good but we know what happened there, I got tired of pretending to have the life I wanted.In a lot of ways it was a turning point, I didn;t want to write a character, I wanted to be a character.
I still understand the butterfly catching mentality of the artist: to capture that secret ideal moment, to glimpse through the curtain of reality and consciosness to grab a picture that’s perhaps not really there.
I mean not even I want to read this stuff if it’s just me whing ing constantly that everything isn’t right. But that’s how I sort of perceive my life. It’s like this blog, it’s a pretty accurate reflection.
I do my business, I do it well, I dream about girls, I try to do some music, I try to reach out to something beyond the everyday nonsense of life and people and their petty little ego driven agendas while maintaining my own, and that’s what I do.
I wish my life was more like a movie, but it’s not, so instead of accepting it and being what I guess you’d describe as normal, I hope for a time when it will be something good and the pain, annoyance, irritation or whatever I experience now is a legitimate way of expressing desire for something better.
If I wasn’t miserable I would just accept what I have and so I embrace that fact that I’m not keen on a lot of the things I’m not keen on. The things I whinge about? I whinge about them because they suck.
Drum and bass sucks. I love it, but it sucks. I’m going to readjust the whole thing.
I need to readjust everything. What I mean by that is that I’ll probably never be happy and I may aswell lean into it.
Probably what will happen a some point is some amazing liberating experience . . . I feel it, I feel I’m just going to grasp something, and it will be real and I’ll realise somehow there’s something, somewhere beyond that I can be.
Maybe I’m grasping, but I refuse to not have hope. I’m ot interested in not hoping for something better that s why I’ll go on a ramble and start taking shots left and right.
So I’m going to be somewhere beyond, I’ll send you a postcard. It’s about aligning my dreams for some sort of security. There’s risk and failure rearing their ugly heads, I don’t want to be devoured by that monster. I want to be safe, that’s where I am, my own child.
Safe from some miserable descent, y’know, I know it’s safe but I don’t want to indulge in inspiration for the sake of it, running round being artistic and social and spontaneous trying to force something. It’s to easy to turn up with nothing. That’s the fate of dreamers.
Camille, my sweet ambrozia, you taught me that when good things come along you’ve got to be ready to grab them and thats what I’ve done for the last few years, I haven’t dicked around pissing up a wall trying to be someone in music, I’ve built a business so I can do what I damn please. Write dumb nonsense on my blog all day because money doesn’t seem to be the answer and in amonsgt the art and the adventure is a possibility for something that’s really good.
I need to write and thrash and complain on my blog or else I’ll just sit around never caring but always sensing as I always have that the possibilities that streak across my mind and take my thoughts, they exist, and I don’t care how depressing my blog gets I will reach for that.
Some people can be happy not knowing there’s magic, that there’s romance. Some people take consolation even though they know it exists,
” . . . love is natural and real, but not for such as you and I, my love . . . ”
And I write praying that in my time such things can still be. And when that next comes along whether it’s a girl or some experience or some goal or achievement I’ll be ready to experience it in full.
It won’t be the Dojo Inspectors. I know this now and must respond appropriately, it’s not time yet, and if there’s one thing I should learn it’s patience.
The spending of my resources in an untimely manner has put me in the situation I am now and I will avoid even the lightest stumble in that respect. That’s being stoic in my strategy.
I don’t know. Even in my ranting it suggests if only I could let go then maybe I could get it. I could be that somewhere beyond, that somewhere were these pressing details and arrangements are without consequence.
It’s an attitude, a state of mind, but it’s also a self assurance in your own achievement, and arrival on such a long journey that has been my effort to express my art. The misery I experience is part of that, the art may be the therapy in itself, maybe I’m just confusing myself.
But I refuse to pretend I’m satisfied and I’m fulfilled. Yeah I did good with my business, so what. That was easy. It was a grind, but no more so then the same effort I’ve put into music.
I wanted to be a young artist who was respected. That was never to be as I am not young or respected. I don’t see the point in clawing desperately to cram it in now.
Art is as it’s always been, a story and explanation, an attempt to understand how it all just happened to be.
