Tuesday, April 12, 2016
It's not true. I've tried it. You can't be sober either, though. There is a careful balance you must maintain. Drunks are bad. Tea-totlers, too. And never trust someone who does too many drugs. The life of the creative artist must be well-balanced. It is hard. It is really, really hard.
I guess the hating yourself part isn't necessary, either. It makes for a very different kind of literature, though. I think writers are people who forgive themselves.
On second or third thought, I don't agree with this cartoon at all. But I needed a graphic today. I have been too busy for photography. It is going on four months since I had a studio now. It is becoming a fading memory. I used to think. . . it doesn't matter now what it was I thought. Here is the reality of it all. I don't make many pictures any more. It is the thing I have to live with now.
Although I have another lens waiting for me at the post office. And that is where I must file my tax extension today. I almost forgot. I am the least practical man I know. Person. I am the least practical person.
I did not sleep last night. I had a bad belly and dark, terrible nightmares. Not nightmares. End of life things. Merle Haggard dreams. I blame it on many things. I have reached an age where everyone is fat. It is awful. I am fat. I used to have a cute butt. It looked like two apples on a countertop. Now it looks like two apples in a plastic bag. I think this all started yesterday at the gym when I did squats in front of a mirror. I usually squat on a Smith machine now to save my back, and there is no mirror in front of the Smith machine. When I squatted in front of the mirror, the view was shocking. I had no idea. The image haunts me still. It certainly did last night. I had the end of life squat horrors. Big belly, swizzle stick legs. I shouldn't do them any more. I don't look like that just walking around. It is when I get into that low squat position. Jesus. What happened?
And so I will have to function on little sleep today. Q says he has quit drinking and is losing weight. Maybe that is my only option. I guess my writing will suffer though. You see? I have become a writer after all.
Posted by cafe selavy at 8:46 AM