Sometimes, a strange, invisible force drives me to do things that I already know will make me sad, break my throbbing heart, just to be sure. That is what I have chosen to do and I am sure that my inquisitive nature will spare me no suffering. Nonetheless, I like to be absolutely sure of things, Situations fluctuate depending on your vantage point. Looking at things from far away makes me doubt my vision. Changing perspectives helps me to see clearly. In theory anyway.
Like a puppy, I need to meet my blunders snout to the ground. I like to smell it. From a distance, I can show proof of strength, dignity even. A false dignity. When I have propelled myself into the middle of things…my inner power seems to evaporate, like spit on a hot sidewalk in July. I search for the place that my resilience has cleverly hidden itself and it is nowhere to be found. None of this comes as a surprise to me. My will, capricious infant, has always forced my hand. I am ruled by my desires, and really, even though it hurts sometimes, I wouldn’t want to be any other way.
There is a lot to be said for saving face.
For keeping a stiff upper-lip.
For never forgiving.
For always having the last word.
For sticking obstinately to principles.
For burning bridges.
For never looking back.
Yet somehow, I have the feeling that in doing so, a person easily misses out on a different clarity, possibly closer to the elusive truth of the matter. Sometimes I need to back up in order to keep on moving forward. Nose grinding into the pavement, it is far less possible to deceive myself, to paint beautiful pictures of what could have been. In a backwards kind of way, humiliating myself, putting myself out on a limb, not protecting myself nor my shaky self-image makes me not even want to deceive myself anymore, to give up painting all together, which is positive really. Illusions are lovely but reality must be faced at some point. The more I avoid it the shittier it becomes.
My eternal mental masturbation usually pays off sooner or later. In the event that my research is never really conclusive, I think that I will stop painting, writing, searching, fornicating, living. I will consecrate my time to watching tele-reality and drinking cheap wine. In the meantime….
BRING IT ON! MÊME PAS PEUR!
(I’m already drinking cheap wine, I’m half way there.)