Keep it together, kid
This is what I've been trying to tell myself, and convince myself of in recent days and weeks.
Simple concept. Hard to do. Highlights have included:
-being sentenced to my bed, in a prescription drug induced horrible body cramp, ache, shake, that took half a day to wear off. twice.
-during this time, sleep was impossible, and excessive analytical thinking was copious....and that burden made me even more ill than the physical disfunction
-Walking out of the art class I've been taking in the middle of the session, without justification... leaving my drawing paper behind with some slightly psychotic cryptic message about art not having purpose. After staring at inanimate objects (pots, pans, a chinese takeout box) with light flashed on them for an hour, I couldn't take it anymore. I figured that there had to be something with more purpose to go find before jumping out of the art studio window....
-coming to the conclusion i never want to make a record again unless someone else, or lots of someone else's, can fucking deal with getting it recorded, produced, and completed in a packaged, buy-able, cd format. my brain and body have been sucked dry, and I can't take it no more! it almost makes me hate music all together.
Dear World: Fuck Off!
I had lunch with a friend of mine, and I indulged in a sympathetic ear and finally admitted to my declining state of mind, and general disinterest in being a being on this earth. There's nothing more repulsive to me than being pathetic, helpless, and complaining about it....admitting it to another human being. Acknowledging the condition just makes me worse off, as the original depression just gets partnered up with a completely gross self loathing euphoria. I know, I should have no reason for complaints, I have more than I need. But that doesn't make things better when you feel that you've completely exhausted any good thing you ever had in you. You're at the end of the toothpaste tube, and it's just getting messy and depressing at this point.
I've been a blogophile today, perusing through the lives of dozens of people I don't know, and upon reading more about, have decided I don't WANT to know. I don't get the blog phenomenon. I hear some of these bloggers are celebrities in certain circles.... where does this exist? Do THAT many people really read any one given blog (even the "cool" ones) or is this just some bogus perceived value we've hyped up to ourselves because we're young, or hip, or just tragically doomed? Or maybe it's the manhattan appeal? Like all those really fucking cool ny based magazines that no one actually reads.
In any case, I feel certain that at most, maybe two or three people read this here blog, which of course would make sense considering I'm highly anti-social, post infrequently, and usually don't have much of a point or current news of hipster happenings. So, if you will humor me, if you are reading this blog, leave a comment. Make your existence known. I just want to know how few people really do read this. It would be good for me.....it's the least you can do, i mean I went through the trouble to spell check this post and everything.
See I've been thinking that maybe art and creation (including these writings) may be nothing more than some lame mental masturbation in which all us "artists" forge some "meaningful" life from. Dark thought, I know. And I'm trying to save myself from actually starting to believe it. It's a dangerous prospect.
Please fucking prove me wrong.
someone!
Simple concept. Hard to do. Highlights have included:
-being sentenced to my bed, in a prescription drug induced horrible body cramp, ache, shake, that took half a day to wear off. twice.
-during this time, sleep was impossible, and excessive analytical thinking was copious....and that burden made me even more ill than the physical disfunction
-Walking out of the art class I've been taking in the middle of the session, without justification... leaving my drawing paper behind with some slightly psychotic cryptic message about art not having purpose. After staring at inanimate objects (pots, pans, a chinese takeout box) with light flashed on them for an hour, I couldn't take it anymore. I figured that there had to be something with more purpose to go find before jumping out of the art studio window....
-coming to the conclusion i never want to make a record again unless someone else, or lots of someone else's, can fucking deal with getting it recorded, produced, and completed in a packaged, buy-able, cd format. my brain and body have been sucked dry, and I can't take it no more! it almost makes me hate music all together.
Dear World: Fuck Off!
I had lunch with a friend of mine, and I indulged in a sympathetic ear and finally admitted to my declining state of mind, and general disinterest in being a being on this earth. There's nothing more repulsive to me than being pathetic, helpless, and complaining about it....admitting it to another human being. Acknowledging the condition just makes me worse off, as the original depression just gets partnered up with a completely gross self loathing euphoria. I know, I should have no reason for complaints, I have more than I need. But that doesn't make things better when you feel that you've completely exhausted any good thing you ever had in you. You're at the end of the toothpaste tube, and it's just getting messy and depressing at this point.
I've been a blogophile today, perusing through the lives of dozens of people I don't know, and upon reading more about, have decided I don't WANT to know. I don't get the blog phenomenon. I hear some of these bloggers are celebrities in certain circles.... where does this exist? Do THAT many people really read any one given blog (even the "cool" ones) or is this just some bogus perceived value we've hyped up to ourselves because we're young, or hip, or just tragically doomed? Or maybe it's the manhattan appeal? Like all those really fucking cool ny based magazines that no one actually reads.
In any case, I feel certain that at most, maybe two or three people read this here blog, which of course would make sense considering I'm highly anti-social, post infrequently, and usually don't have much of a point or current news of hipster happenings. So, if you will humor me, if you are reading this blog, leave a comment. Make your existence known. I just want to know how few people really do read this. It would be good for me.....it's the least you can do, i mean I went through the trouble to spell check this post and everything.
See I've been thinking that maybe art and creation (including these writings) may be nothing more than some lame mental masturbation in which all us "artists" forge some "meaningful" life from. Dark thought, I know. And I'm trying to save myself from actually starting to believe it. It's a dangerous prospect.
Please fucking prove me wrong.
someone!
posted by kristin diable | 5:55 PM
10 Comments:
Hello Kristin,
Here's to proving you wrong. I know I'm not the only one who reads your journal. Someone set up a feed so that you are still active at LiveJournal. The blog universe puzzles me as well. I'm not one of the "cool" and I don't set out to be. I'd rather be an outsider. Once in awhile, someone can take something from what I write so I guess it's worth it. The most popular blogs are those who exploit the worst side of our human nature. I like your insights into life and that's why I read. I know that it is not much to offer, but I hope that quenches a bit of your thirst.
gee whiz girl. you seriously need to get your ass back down here to BR pronto and hang out with me for a while. I guarantee I can change your perspective. and if you’re abusing drugs, I’m gonna smack you. seriously! you have far too much talent and intelligence to throw it all away on that crap. Step one to start feeling better, get back to natural. take care of yourself. exercise. eat healthy. your mental outlook is directly related to these things.
stop worrying about art and purpose. art is something beyond your control. like I told you before, it’s a label given by assholes and bullshiters. be creative because you want to be creative, not because you want recognition. be creative because it is who you are. and as far as purpose goes, it’s something that will elude you the more you try to find it.
do what makes you happy. do what pleases you. do what inspires you. go with your instincts. do this. make a difference. make a love. in these things you will find purpose. and if you are lacking in inspiration, then come see me. I will fill you up and put you back together again. because I need you. and it sure sounds like you need me too.
but it’s hard to hold you from a thousand miles away.
We read and listen. I promise. You have tons of insight and lots of talent. Please don't let the world get you down.
I second that and everything else that everyone said.
You shouldn't let the world and society get you down.
So are you feeling better?
Why not write about it?
Strong feelings can make for great lyrical fodder.
;-)
You can even take your frustrations out on me if you want. ...as long as I get a kiss when you're done.
:-)
So?
Found any meaning?
Purpose?
a Love(r)?
everyone is searching for inspiration. take solace in knowing that people see your art and creativity as a piece of that inspiration they're searching for. It's a humbling and scary concept, i know. Maybe you need to take a walk and find some inspiration of your own.
smile.
liam.
E-N-T-R-Y!
E-N-T-R-Y!
We want a new entry.
YAY!
I was here and check your journal regularly.
Best regards,
Validation
i like stories
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