that when I don't talk, when I keep all of myself inside myself, I end up sad or angry or hopeless or - oh god, the misery - all three at once.
that when I stop making things, however pointless or temporary, I shrivel my heart up and start to eat it, the bitter, unforgiving taste of it so meanspirited in my mouth that everything I say comes out hard and dry and unloving.
that I'm not alone in any of this, even when I'm completely by myself. that I don't have to bear it alone.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
so these are the things I keep forgetting.
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4 comments:
Talking, making and doing: the artist's essential trilogy.
well peter today I talked, I made and I did, and you know it was a much better day. I was undaunted, for the most part.
Perhaps it is because you are so creative that bottling any expression up inside causes pain. You'll just have to keep noisy and busy ;)
pauline, it's certainly true that I'm at my happiest and most productive when I'm making something, whatever it might be.
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