Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Sometimes I am torn by grief. I am literally twisted. My head is going in one direction, my heart is going another, body is frightened, so very frightened of being just a body. I want to cry, I want to beg the world for more time, more intelligence, I want to call everybody I know and tell them I love them, I have always loved them, I am sorry I was angry with them. For sooo long I've had daddy issues, but they were issues of a foolish teenager, rebellious and undereducated. There is so much to know in this world. I come from such a small town. From a country that hates everything about everybody. We have all the freedom and almost no taste. We want to be America, with our feet still in the horseshit, in the stable. My work gets stolen all the time, discredited, ignored - people would rather fuck themselves than pay twenty bucks for a photo. And I am nothing, I am nobody. I can never be good enough, because only socially interesting people become famous and I am not. Because I prefer to read and paint.
Jodorowsky was not a nobody, he was an everybody and his Dune was like a primeval deity from which all the monumental, politically correct kings of the sci-fi movies spawned. He had to be kept in the trenches so that America could have their Spielbergs and Lucases and Scotts. I could never be truly great, because I cannot steal big enough. If his Dune script book fell into my lap, I wouldn't know what to do with it. Okay, I do. I’d apologize for the inconvenience and make sure I returned it to him. Because I am not an animal. I am but a tiny spec of consciousness, drifting through an ocean of stars. True, there is the ink and there is the camera, but there are no eyes to see my work - they are all averted to the new tits of whoever’s on a red carpet. It hurts to see my work stolen, but that man must have suffered and still suffers to see his work raped. Good thing he has a lot of humor and some good drugs. Or at least I hope so. He seems happy enough when confronted with journalists. I’m half his age. So does it get better from here on or only harder?