Good Morning. I still don’t have a lot to say this morning. I seem to be cycling down again. I feel like I have whiplash lately. Up down, up down. I don’t seem to be losing the drive to paint and draw, which will most likely save my life this go around.
When I was younger I would cycle up and have about three solid weeks of pure creativity then it would leave me for 6 months and I would be completely destitute about it. Up until January of last year I had put away anything creative because it had just left me completely. I was sad about it but there is a certain amount of pain involved with being driven to draw or paint constantly.
A different person woke up this morning. I rolled the dice this morning and someone else woke up. Which happens. I’m back locked up tight in my head. Yesterday the world was my oyster. I even taught myself a new computer programming system last week to do the job of someone who quit because I was tired of relying on a department who doesn’t know my data like I do. Just fucking sat down and taught myself a system people got to college to learn. I have no idea how I did it. Today I look at myself and I feel like I’m some kind of alien creature. I couldn’t do it today. She didn’t wake up today, I did. I don’t have the ability to learn a new system. My head has become a cloud.
But I can paint still. Which is good. I am fighting paranoia. I am fighting the idea people are watching me, which is why I took down the self-portrait. I didn’t delete it. If Alan wants me to add it to this post I will so he can see it. After all I painted it because of something he said.
I’m so incredibly lonely I can taste it.
I’ve been listening to Radical face for days on end now.