Well, a lot has happened. I found a certain level of peace in helping other people. It isn’t that I consciously set out to do this, but it kept repeating itself in various ways until I became aware that I was doing this. Maybe that which I have been so angry at my family for, ignoring each other’s needs, became something I began to see in others. In my own way I became a vehicle to help other people by finally acknowledging what had hurt me so much growing up.
On Facebook I kept posting shit like “If you’re depressed, do shit for other people, it really provides fulfillment” without really believing in it yet myself. There wasn’t a tipping point where I became truly aware of it, it just happened one day that I knew I was back on the right path. Everything that had fueled my rage for over a decade, everything that had me blowing money like a muddafakka and being noncommittal to all of the amazing women who have graced me with their presence, became clear to me.
The simple act of asking people what’s on their mind, what goals, or dreams you could do anything to help achieve, even buying someone a dinner and sitting with them while their eyes light up as they describe even the smallest progress, that is truly fulfilling. I didn’t write this to bitch about my parents or extended family this time, but growing up I don’t think anyone listened or cared about what I wanted or what dreams I had. When you don’t water that seed in people, they rarely grow.
Water that seed in others and soon you will be standing in a beautiful garden. Oh, of course you’ll still need to watch your step, the roots of artists are tender and exposed, and often there will be some manure lingering around.
Passive-aggressive twitter fueds make headline news?
Unless you make money by watching trends and current events there is no reason to listen anymore, it’s all complete bullshit you don’t need to know.
A steaming hot lasagna with alternating layers of disinformation, marketing, bullshit, lies, propoganda, social conditioning, with a thick, melted layer of talking heads and demagogues that just read whatever their producers prepared them to read on air
Would I go on TV to hawk a book? Oh hell yeah. Like Kanye West says, you have to work with the devil, the people with the connections and reach to get anything done/have influence these days. Very little in life is about what you know, or what talent you have, it’s all about who you know, and what platform you have to broadcast it on
Seems like when I get into an introverted mind state, there are two flavours of it. One of them is like “introverted outwards” where all I can think about is what I lack. Like seriously, I don’t have a submarine, a helicopter, a Ferrari, a mansion, supermodel gf, or small island. It sounds petty to other people, but it depresses me that I live on a planet that can be a playground, and I don’t have all the good toys. Anything I may lack, I feel a real, painful loss over. If I think of something that I want that is too far beyond my capabilities to acquire, it feels like a huge letdown. Chances are I will never impregnate Taylor Swift on my own private yacht. This is a state of depression.
The other mindstate I would call “introverted inwards” which helps me recall what I’ve owned and who I’ve been along with what I own now and who I am in the present. Then when my mind knocks on the tiny door of imagination, the wizard inside opens it and a torrent of neverending colour, ideas, and even music pours forth as a flash flood. If I daydream too much, I can get a migraine headache from it. When I was a kid I had developed a strong imagination from being so depressed over my shitty life, and as an adult I can still reach that place where I can escape from the “introverted outwards” mindset.
I can get the same imaginative state for short periods of time while feeling extroverted, but why would I want to? I’m partying!
Why am I not surprised? Honestly, in my mind I’ve always had this impending sense of doom, like the world is already so overpopulated, disconnected, selfish and apocalypse-worthy.
So much of our culture is about sacrificing what was, and what could be, for what we can get now. Disposable people, disposable products, disposable world.
Maybe it all isn’t so bad. I’m having a great time in life right now! Been dating and enjoying the process of writing book #2, every time Sons of Anarchy comes on when I’m cuddling with a girl they always want sex! I think it’s the violence that turns them on.
Radiation in the ocean? Hey, as long as the beer is cold and the boobs perky, that’s someone else’s problem.
Perhaps the most difficult thing I have found as a wannabe artist is to understand my own message. I often waffle back and forth between the ideas of “do anything” and respecting traditional boundaries.
Lately I’ve found myself in a position where I’m ready to eschew those boundaries for the sake of art. Along with writing my next novel, there is a side project that I’ve began changing my studio to accomodate, look for it on the horizon around February or March, depending on how long it takes to get all the equipment I need and set it up.