Personal Diary / Journal - art, addiction and a whole lotta love

2020 Feb 29 Saturday

Today i have nothing planned. In fact i intend to just chill out and prepare for tomorrow's concert.

Just a bit of help for my Baby Love's online shop, which is already done, it took just a few minutes.

I showered. You can tell wether i'm feeling ok if i shower often. Last few days, same as last week, were a bit straining. Haven't showered in 3 days i think. My quota is once every two days.

Straining, but not unsatisfying. I wonder what i'll do today. Part of me wants to binge Netflix, another part of me would just take it easy, write, do mind/body practice, maybe read some bookness. That's what i call the gathering of reading material at my disposal. I don't call it "bookness" in public, in fact i seldom speak English besides here.

Too bad i don't use my native language, i could employ more nuances, but if i were using my native language, you guys wouldn't be able to read this. Another reason why i use English is that it's easier to protect our anonymity.

Yet another reason why i use English is to practice with it for when/if i decide to write anything else. For now though, can't bring myself to do it. A journal feels closer, intimate, and easy to write. I think the following-through with a writing project is what puts me off.

Thinking about a subject, orchestrating events and dialogue, these concepts don't resonate with me at this moment. I'll keep writing here where it's warm and fuzzy. Coziness. That's what i'm into. Other characters would feel like strangers, and i'm not sure i would want to become friends with my characters, i'm more of a voyeur this way. Look but don't intervene.

I like the feeling of spilling my life here. Feels safe and comforting, and my entries are not without readers.

Something wants to come out about Thursday's interaction with the buyer for my equipment. It's something i shared with my Baby Love but hesitated to put here, for no apparent reason except not wanting to repeat myself, but it keeps poking at the carapace. Not because it's something important per-se, it's just as important as anything else i write here. Well, not as important as the details about Baby Love, but you get the idea.

Ok i'll write it, even if it's just my OCD telling me to be thorough. Actually, i shouldn't encourage my OCD, shouldn't enable it. You know what? I'll tell myself "no" and i'll just keep it between my Baby Love and me. Is it "me", "myself" or "i" here? Whatever.

[..] it occurs to me that i don't feel like playing music is necessary for me. I just miss playing from time to time, so i play my instrument or the instrument that is the object of my missingness. It's more like a mechanism, not unlike talking, that i employ whenever i feel like it.

While i'm doing it, i have the skill and discipline to play only what feels necessary and right in the moment, but it's not like playing in itself is necessary. It's not like i have something inside that needs to come out. And i know the difference because there were times in my life when this was the case.

In this sense, i think i'm not an artist. At least not anymore. There is not that inner conflict, any struggle that i can speak of. My struggles are now with addiction mostly, and i talk about it here. In this sense, maybe when i write about addiction, that portion can be considered art.

Or the thing that wanted to come out today, you know, i said it was scratching at the carapace. Maybe that, because it came from some inner drive, be it my OCD desire for thoroughness or some unknown motivation - could have been considered a piece of art, had i written it. Not necessarily good art.

So far i haven't been concentrating on making my writing any good, or being strict with my words or anything - i believe strictness is part of any good art, only acting on what feels absolutely necessary. I've just been writing and letting time mold whatever style may be inside me. Were I to concentrate on that deliberately, it would become this whole thing, arriving in the same package with struggle, frustration and corruption.

I say corruption and what i mean is compromise. Should i adhere to a certain style or something like it, i would compromise the spur-of-the-moment instinct in favor of maintaining that continuity, that voice.

This way, however, i write as if i'm talking. I guess this could be considered a style too. The fear! Writing like talking. Now that i put this idea forth, it doesn't sound like something i'd want to uphold in the future. Let's just say i write as the ideas come to me. I'm able to think in English, and when i can't find a word i use an online translator from my native tongue.

I don't know if i particularly love writing, or playing music for that matter. Or the mind/body practice. After meeting Baby Love, my concept of love has somewhat changed. I love Baby Love, and everything else kind of fades to the background. Maybe except family, family is up there with Baby Love. But i've learned the meaning of love with knowing Baby Love.

I can say though that controlling the sound with my body, as it is with playing my instrument, as well as the feeling of typing, these things bring me pleasure and satisfaction. My therapist says that only food and intimate attention can truly bring pleasure and satisfaction, but i take greatly from these feelings related to creativity. Also, with taking pictures, i love the fact that i interact with the subject as i improvise in dance, a certain necessity is revealed to me in positioning the camera and the moment i press the button. And i like the discovery of what this necessity crops visually from the world.

With the movement, my mind/body practice, it's more complicated i guess. I feel that the best movement, the purest form of movement is the one that no one observes. The way you move when you don't pay attention to your movement. When you think no one is watching. So everything else is somewhat of a compromise from this one true pure form.

[..] time for a little art in the form of frustration confession: i propositioned myself that today will be a day of relaxation and relief from all the activities of the week. Instead, my head hurts, Baby Love is cleaning, the neighbors are doing repairs, the cat is restless and wilding around, and i can't find peace. I don't know what to do.

In these cases i think the first step is to accept the fact that there is no peace. Even if i locked myself in a room with my headphones on, still the sound from the neighbors would squeeze into my ears through the gaps. My head would still hurt.

I think i need to find peace within or something. Feeling a little aggressive. And hungry.

[..] i feel a little better. Got something to eat, closed the door to the bedroom and watched Chris Rock's Tamborine on Netflix. The neighbors stopped with the upgrades, the cat is not in the same room with me, and my head stopped hurting somewhat.

[..] just as i was telling myself that stress has caught on to me, Baby Love came and handed me a cold beer. I felt like a new person from that moment on. She really is the very best. Now i'm enjoying the dark beer alone, watching The Walking Dead, while she is preparing french fries with cheese and salad, alone in the kitchen. Alone by choice, for i miss her dearly and wanted to spend time together, but she's tired and wanted to unwind with her youtubers while cooking.

Hard as it may be sometimes, and not all that hard to be honest, i'm the luckiest to have her. I hope she feels the same.