I'm a crap writer and not a socially engaged artist. It's really hard for me to be a socially engaged artist because I feel often that survival is the only goal I can have in life right now. Arnon Grunberg and there are so many artists and thinkers more in state to express themselves than me. Perhaps my actual depression and feelings are useless, and maybe I am not in state to be a Sylvia Plath for instance, Everyone's a Poet, the trick is recognizing what the poems are. Or something like this. I have to think up an exhibit concept for Cokkie Snoei. And I think the gay porno pictures with texts and my early big paintings and maybe some photo prints and some recent paintings would be a good start. Self expression. We are now beyond that. Breaking through something, as Tracey Emin did and does. The big payoff. Losing my hair in handfulls. Loving discourse. Litmus tests. Academics. Academia. Worried in a wounded narcissism way that my hair falling out and my ageing etc. is just not going to cut it anymore. What is it that I want and need? Intergenerational sexual relationships, what would Freud say about my Daddy complex and fascination, except there is not really one somehow. And just a balanced sexual relationship with myself, I can hardly figure out what to do with my time most of the time.
http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/products/kathy+battista/re-negotiating+the+body/8502095/
At least here is a good book coming out. Soonish. What else? There is nothing else. I am worried that I am just going to fall off a cliff as I get older, and be not in state to take care of myself somehow. I must be able to take care of myself. Independent. Financially solvent. Etc.
Today is Mother's Day 2011 and my mom called me at about 17.15 Amsterdam afternoon time and my family is too normal as Robin says and god fearing and believing somehow to actually have an artistic background life with. Whatever that means. I mean that if I were to interview them or so that it wouldn't make much difference, because I wouldn't even know what questions to ask, maybe we could just start talking or so. I am so hard on myself and this makes it hard to live sometimes. I make myself tired with my thinking. Someone somebody like me needs not to be afraid to list the fundamentals and not be afraid of being ugly while doing it. I do my best to be beautiful but more than what I have to work with I cannot do. Waiting for emails. Waiting for Godot. Always telling myself that I can't do anything, while really I am doing alot. Robin is back up from lying down perhaps and I had not expected him so quickly. I was just doing this to kill time.
Everything seems to drag me down these days, and my energy is just so low. And my scalp is in terrible shape again due to stress etc. How much longer have I got to live? Who do I give pleasure to and is that enough? Being socially engaged is a stable brain person's game.
I am as socially engaged as I can be. I am nearly too tired, high, and depressed to continue writing now. New York City. CBGB's. Our cat Betsie. So much trust in where my mind roams. And someone told me once, feelings are not necessarily the truth...Panic. Do I have it more difficult than some other people? Is everyone the same mentally and speaking the same language??
