Micro vacation, day 2

Micro vacation coming to an end. It went by quite quickly, actually. I went to the National Gallery today, the renovated edition. I've been there before, but it was half the size at the time and I used to know everything about every piece. A profound place, heaven-like, made me cry twice like a small child. First plain old Stendhal syndrome and the second time when I read about an old dude, a very important painter for our culture, what he was described like when a journalist saw him old in his studio. I am starting to understand he was never quite happy, he kept going to schools, having exhibitions and then burning his work afterwards - either he sucked at the time or they truly didn't understand what he was trying to do. His friends kept trying to get him commissions, but much like Diego Rivera in the Rockefeller Centre, people thought they were getting decor and when they got art, they couldn't appreciate it. He was the Godfather of the Gallery, though, and insisted on the government to fund lots of art. You have to, you see. Without the artists giving soul to the world you're in, all you got is makeup and propaganda. 

Shoot tomorrow. I hope all of it goes well. My nightmares have stopped, which is good, and I miss G godawfully, but I like the way I eat when I am here and things I read and how I think. Like: I don't care whether or not there is Heaven and Hell, I just don't approve of people believing in it - they shouldn't be the reason why anyone makes any decisions... Or: I fully comprehend that you can be a good artist by the age of forty, because concepts that change the world take this long to mature, but by forty you can decide whether you want to be miserable or not and I already knew a long time ago that I don't. I don't owe the world anything. 

And so on. 

I've made a three page list of Gallery things I liked, didn't know or didn't understand and will write in detail about it when I get home. For now I'm just chillaxing, listening to the rain and walking around the empty apartment in my underwear. It's so weird that the radiators are always on here. They are hardly ever hot in our place. It's uncomfortable to live in such a warm place in winter. I keep having the windows open to be cold. Ate light cottage cheese spread, home-made bread, gouda cheese, water and pear cookies for dinner, reading Rilke. Going home tomorrow. Home's been missed.

 This really awesome wooden butter knife i've fallen in love with...