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.
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.
Now I’m waking up at 5 AM instead of going to bed. Had a very odd dream about an erotic encounter in a Canadian Tire.
I just got a 5-star review of my novel posted up on Amazon.ca:
“This book is the ‘Requiem for a Dream’ version of today’s ‘Romantic-Comedy’. The author vividly brings you into the life of a young man named Dylen, who lives in a dark world full of sex, booze and drugs. He is on a conquest to find love, while filling the empty void with vapid, shallow, yet gorgeous, ‘pod girls’. This book spins you through the routine of today’s young singles, while giving you insight into the conscious dilemma people now face when it comes to dating and love in the 21st century. Dylen is a narcissistic, egomaniac but somehow has you rooting for him to find love in the end. I couldn’t put this book down!”
…folllowed by a testamonial from a reader I happened to run into while sauced up in Gastown. Hopefully she posts hers up soon!
So while working on selling my novel, and writng my next, I sell porn to survive.
I made $3,000 dollars in 3 days the other day off of a simple video of a wide-hipped woman shaking her butt. This work took me all of about a half an hour.
I’ve made $1,000 off of selling my novel that was published in February. It took a year and a half to write.
Pornography makes so much more money than art, but it has absolutely no reward. I use the bodies of whores to tease men into signing up to websites so that I may profit.
Writing rewards the soul, and for all of the life I put into writing and delivering a realistic view on modern day sex, dating, and love, I made a tiny amount of cash as a result. In fact, when you factor in the costs for the trailer and cover, I’m still under water on the book!
I prefer to make art, but damn, ass pays the bills!