Often enough, I bore myself. I try to say something thoughtful and at the same time entertaining, and it's no good at all. I started writing down things that I thought to be funny or deep, but when trying them out they mostly seem to be kind of offensive.
Oh yes, that offensive bit. I guess when I was a kid I fell into the same magic potion that Bill Hicks had - or I just watched Bill Hicks way too much. Anyway, I'm kind of a ranter, maybe because I'm such an idealistic bitch. When you talk about your positive visions and your larger-than-life-ideas, people make cynical remarks to bring you "back to earth", and you become one with the mud, you become like them. And after some time you rant about all these things that suck (and I have to say, people don't suck as much as the things they do), because secretly you wish it was all a lot better.
At least I'm fair. I subject myself to the rough treatment I give to others. I have days where I crush my work before I haven't even started. And on other days I fight against my own oppression, working like a punk to demonstrate that I don't care at all about my hard judgement. I guess that can be called "torn".
Sometimes, I am my own big brother government with a third eye like a CCTV cam, wiretapping my thoughts, commenting my every move, legislating my rights away.
And sometimes, I'm the cellar rebel, fighting against the oppressive regime with mental molotov cocktails, spraying Anarchy symbols onto my music.
When I do my music, I am fighting against my inner daemons, because there are no daemons in reality. There is no exterior politics, there is just the reverberation of megatons of human fantasies in my mind. I can not process all these ideas in terms of an "outer world". I spend so much time trying to find out what really matters, and I lose my way so many times.
The truths, which I didn't bother writing down properly because I thought them to be self-evident, haunt me the next day, twisted and deformed, a grotesque parody of my beliefs. I forget all the time. I have to ask you, what do you think matters in your life and in this world?
1 comments:
I'm 33 years old and still don't know.
Your way seems to be a good one. And you can create - what a blessing. I think I have the same 'larger-than-life' visions in my head but I could not find a way to pour it out onto the world (I'm sure I'm not alone with this). And sometimes I feel that if I cannot pour it out, I failed. They may even kill me - repressed ideas so powerful becoming atomic bombs of the mind.
You dig the unknown (yourself), take a part, pour it out into a demo, a poem, whatever. You are an artist: someone who shits gold (but doesn't cherish the extracted thing - that would be idolatry). Perhaps operating this extractor, being this extractor is your mission.
Sorry for the lameness.
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