Friend, “Artists are antennas for the future, that’s why they have to be so sensitive. You’re just a well lubricated antennae” – a very comforting, although perhaps ‘egotistical’ thought, I can work with that, this really helps my soul!
Art that transports you.
Art that puts you on edge.
Art that makes you shudder.
Art that makes you squirm but you still want to look.
And what the value is of this type of work.
The art I make is often incredibly personal.
Often what most people would call, too much, too close, too raw, too intimate.
too too too.
But maybe this means it’s “working”,
because I want to make people feel the way that I feel.
Like so much, so close, so raw, so intimate.
so so so.
I love when you meet for brunch and you haven’t been home yet.
I love that messy space between happiness and comfort.
That messy space before you’d had time to collect yoursel, to process your actions and experiences and all of the new people in your life as of last night.
Space before you’ve had the time or energy to put on good face, to remember who you’re supposed to be and what your insecurities are, when your groggy, hungover, giddy and greasy. Before you remember how to be yourself and so instead are so much more.
The possibilities streatch and expand you, the laughter tumbles like a nervous boy stutters when talking to a beautiful girl and connections are made deep, below the surface of expectations and reputations. You are weaker in manyways but vulnerability is a wise monster, and vulnerability is the key to making real friends, and vulnerability is essential to growth and change and discovery.
I’ve been internet shopping for an apartment in Montreal for weeks and it feels almost like I’m internet dating with a home for the next part of my life and it makes me wonder, how anyone can stand to internet date (for real) at all, because love to me is all in the instincts, the feelings, the quirks, and these things are terribly hard to read through a screen, but even in between the negotiations of how much I’m willing to pay and what neighborhood I’ll be in and if they like cats, I have been able to find a few places thats character and charm speaks to me (and some I even yearn for) but then it’s all ‘well they haven’t called me back…’ and ‘someone got to them right before me…’ and ‘well, maybe I only liked them because I was drunk…’.
And in my (possibly foolish, unrealistic, unpractical and idealist) romantic ways, I’d like to believe that there’s an apartment out there (with all requirements met) that’ll be perfect for me(and my roommate) and exactly what I need right now, and that when it works out it’ll feel natural and comforting, and that maybe that’s possible within the next week? Yikes!
Home hunting feels like dating because it’s all like a delicate dance of mutual desire.
“Festivals for us, are like a hippy treat, a gypsy fix, a place to find a loving home for every silk patterned beauty we would at any other time of year need to layer over and under with fleece.”
My school teachers always told me not to run my sentences on-and-on-and-on, but but but, I just can’t stop! (and according to Vladimir Nabokov, I may never need to) Cause, they don’t teach style in school, right? So you have to make it up. Cookie cutter me out.
feeling restless. procrastinating every email, every phone call, and blog post even.
wishing I was alone in a field with nothing but a sketchbook and a pen. so much there is I wish to say, to articulate all of these incredible experiences with accuracy, but feeling they deserve better than my uneasy distraction.
the plus side is, these seem to be the only days I can stand to clean the house.
the key to anti-aging is to never be the same person for too long.