Friday, 02/06/04 - 2:07 pm.
All the brilliant ideas I had yesterday are gone, and now they're just stupid thoughts on paper that I'm tearing apart and throwing in the trashcan.
The only good thing is that I learned how to draw The Beatles, Simeon style. It's not big deal, really. But I thought it'd be handy. It's been with Aerosmith. They're kind of my trademark as a fan, I draw them on my belongings and on cards and letters for my acquantainces (but the latter seldom happens now).
Aside from that and a blister on each of my fingertips (practicing guitar...dammit, will I ever learn?) I've been a little sad. Well, no, sad it's not the word. It's like being dried up, without imagination, feeling uncreative. Disappointed or discouraged. Something like that. I think and think, trying to come up with something "good", something to validate my existence right now. I walk and walk in circles in my bedroom, with music vibrating in my eardrums, hoping it'd make a difference in my braincells. But nothing happens.
After hours of doing so, I simply decided to pick up the second book I bought at the bookstore about a week ago, acid casuals. I'm enjoying it, it's really good, with preambles to sexual intercourse and everything.
But as soon as I put it down I feel the burden of my own lack of talent. I'd like to write something, or draw something. Or even better, do both. Like John Lennon did in "In His Own Write". I wish I had talent so I could participate on the yearly comic contest of a newspaper, or something. I can't back up my thoughts with good drawings, and since I get discouraged with my lack of talent, I stop thinking of anything else.
- Me: so, you know...something's wrong with this story.
- Simeon: this is what's wrong: if you're a superhero, then you're not supposed to be using your superpowers for personal benefit. That's what makes you a superhero, using your gift to help others. This story is stupid because he's using his superpowers to help himself and his gay friend (I realized some time ago -I've been doing that superhero story for years- that the relationship between the superhero and his "manager" brushes against the edge of friendly homosexuality...I find it cute, actually, but it took me by surprise).
And so I literally threw the story out the window, disappointed in myself for doing such crap...I used to write kind of clever, if I do say so myself. Simeon gets wiser with time, but I haven't found a way to make that work for better in the long way.
I'm a little emotional today. Maybe I have that sort of disease, when people get a little depressed on a certain season of the year. There aren't exactly "seasons" here, but it's starting to get hot, and therefore I am starting to pull my hair, out of desperation, and to sleep on the floor, because the ceiling fan is only of some use to give me allergies.
Today I'm feeling a little sorry for not commiting suicide in high school. I'm not sure why. I don't have a miserable life, if you want to get technical about it. I am miserable, in a way, but not because of my life in general, my life in general is perhaps above average. And yet sometimes I still wish I could lose my mind and start banging my head on the walls. I wish I could get rid of this self-consciousness and turn mad. And then maybe I could do something worthwhile.
There was a Valentine's special suplement in the newspaper today. All things corny. I feel really good for not being in a relationship. I don't want to fall in love, not now. I just want to come up with something clever, to do something...there's this quote, from Fahrenheit 451, that's what I mean:
"Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child, or a book, or a painting, or a house, or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way, so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there. It doesn't matter what you do, he said, as long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away".
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