i had a dream where i saw someone from sa - andrew - singing a song
he stood in a box with colorfull artwork in the background and i myself was not 'there' - although i was 'seeing' what was happening - so i was just experiencing andrew in a blue costume and with his hair neatly brushed standing in front of a micro singing a song (rock and roll style) on music that was from Matti - and i remember being 'concerned' over the the music not being 'right' or not being of good enough audio quality to make the performance into something 'professional'- it was like a complete act, how everything was put together, to have a real performance
My first impression is simply: this is related to ego - though further than that its not clear - i've looked at 'fame' desires etc but in writing this out what stands out most is this thing with the music - and in the dream itself what stood out was the intensity of the artwork that was in the backgound like extremely colourfull - and also this expereince of andrew being a professional 'star' - and the way andrew was singing in a very 'pepped up' way
im in a phase atm where im feeling shitty most of the time and like i want to stand up but something pulls me back - so i keep doing the stuff that i see are directly usefull but its also an escape to not be self-intimate - so i keep going back to the video's i make and because i'm not stopping i end up comparing and judging everything and getting lost in that -
so, with the dream - i'm highly resisting it - what do i show myself? the concern and value i place in the detail and giving that all the worth. obviously i asked myself: why andrew? he represents what? the being accomplished, the natural artist,
perhaps the dream just shows me what i'm really giving attention to: personal gain - forcing things, overdoing it, ok thats all for the moment
Friday, November 6, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Stealing
i was participating in a sport-camp, (i was between 8 and 10) together with a friend from my class, and one day we had an event at a school, where everyone was playing outside and someone had left her bag somewhere on the floor near a wall while playing - so me and the other guys, we were 3 or 4, were curious and saw an opportunity to simply take the bag and look what was inside; there was money in it and we took it - so we basically stole from another child
this was very exciting to us, to share this secret crime - like: wow, i cannot believe we did this!
So, another day - or was it the same day? - at the same location, same scenario. We noticed again a bag lying there, again near a wall, while everyone was busy playing. its interesting, because there was no need for money, to steal it, - or was there? i don't remember if i had pocket-money, but i don't think so - i just had my food and drinks from home, which i perceived as being less fortunate than the kids who actually received money from their parents. Anyways, we got greedy and went for the bag - though, this time we got caught: the bag was a trap - it was placed there on purpose as 'bait'. So we bit.
We were brought before the adults that were responsible - i had great fear, and was looking for possible lies i could tell to denie i had taken the monay from the previous bag, for which they had no actual proof - though my schoolfriend stupidly said: 'i didn't take the money - and i don't care about it, so here you can have my money.' Obviosuly the teacher/adult asked: 'then why do you offer to give your money?' - I was like: damn, now we're fucked and realised i could not avoid the consequences - mostly i feared my parents being told i had stolen something (imagine: their son already engaging in criminal activity! - that would have been beyond the 'bad' things i did at home for which i would receive very harsh punishments.) But 'fortunately for me' they didn't tell our parents - but the kids that had set up the trap kept keeping an eye on us as those that could not be trusted, and gave us meaningfull looks as we would arrive in the mornings at sports-camp: this was particularly painfull, and allmost a reason to not come anymore - suddenly being the 'scum' - it was interesting to expereince, because being 'the bad guy' didn't fit with my self-image very well - i was like: stop rubbing it in my face, can we please forget and pretend nothing happened? the shame-expereince was interesting: i wasn't feeling shame about what i had done, but because of how people saw me - if i would have gotten away with it, i would have seen the act as completely justified and a great expereince
don't remember what happened afterwards
i did experience myself as less than other children when it came to money (second time i write 'moeny') - not having money to spend, even though my needs were taken care of, i could not buy the extra's the others had acces to and felt less than - allmost like an experience of 'poverty'. This was simply because this was the regime at home: you don't give money easily to a child, even though my parents certainly never had financial problems and were actually just as elite as any middle-class. 'A child cannot handle money.' so if there was no explicit nessecity for me to need money ('because our parents provided us everything'), there was no reason to give me any. So this explains my curiosity towards money - i don't remember when exactly but at one point we started receiving 'our sunday': a very small amount of pieces (20 franks) which we were allowed to save - i asked for this because i saw it on television, that it existed, so therefore i asked my mom, if we could have the same system at home - so from then on we each had our 'spaarpot' (savings-pot) in which we collected our weekly coins. It took years before the amount of money saved in this way amounted to anything: after two years, i had maybe 1000 or 2000 franks of my own, which i probably spend on toys if on anything, but i remember being extremely cautious on how and if i will spend this moeny (!) because of how extremely long it had taken me to save that amount of money (for a working adult it takes perhaps 4-7 hours labour to collect this sum, if they have the minimum wage).
i also remember running upstairs before i would go to art-class in the weekends, to put some coins into a pocket in my hat, with which i would buy a little bag of chips. So, one day while leaving the house with my father, my hat fell of my head or something and the coins rolled out - because i felt i needed to hide the fact i was spening the 'precious money i was given' on bags of chips, as if the money wasn't really my own - this i also expereinced when being in zwitserland - i wrote about this in a blogpost a while back ( http://gabrielietsanders.blogspot.com/2 ... ained.html ) - where i was for the first time in my life trusted with a considerable amount of money (swiss franks) - becasue parents were advised to give a minimum sum of money to the chidren.
It was known that eventually at the end of our stay we would be allowed to visit a swiss shop to 'spend our money' - and everyone did indeed spend all their money, - but i didn't buy one thing for myself, because of feeling it wasn't really my mondy (!!) to spend, only buying stuff for my family, and then 'bragging' about what a good person i was, because look, i placed others before me. So - i spend the money, because i felt i had to and becuse i knew i couldnt keep it anyways on return, so i bought some stuff for the family and gave back the spare swiss franks to my parents.
This remins me of the bible-story of the merchant and his three sons - where each son is given 'talents' (money). One son receives 1 talent, the others one 2, the third one 3. Then the merchant leaves them and asks to be given the talents back upon return. The sons who received the 2 and 3 talents invested those in a bussyness-like manner and made profit seperately. The son with the one talent burried his one talent in fear of wasting it, to ensure he would be able to return the money.
Upon return the merchant is given the talents back he gave to the suns, plus the profit they made on it - and he speaks good words of these suns who invested their talents and made profit. The one sun who 'humbly' returns the one talent he burried - is judged in the story as being the stagnant one, who didn't dare to take a risk and who actually acted out of self-interest.
To me this 'morality' - when hearing this story - was like 'backwards'. I didn't relate at all: to me the self-interest was in those who had risked to lose all the money that was not theirs, through investing it in bussyness. To me, the one who burried his talent, was the one making the right/responsible descision.
ok - dinner time
this was very exciting to us, to share this secret crime - like: wow, i cannot believe we did this!
So, another day - or was it the same day? - at the same location, same scenario. We noticed again a bag lying there, again near a wall, while everyone was busy playing. its interesting, because there was no need for money, to steal it, - or was there? i don't remember if i had pocket-money, but i don't think so - i just had my food and drinks from home, which i perceived as being less fortunate than the kids who actually received money from their parents. Anyways, we got greedy and went for the bag - though, this time we got caught: the bag was a trap - it was placed there on purpose as 'bait'. So we bit.
We were brought before the adults that were responsible - i had great fear, and was looking for possible lies i could tell to denie i had taken the monay from the previous bag, for which they had no actual proof - though my schoolfriend stupidly said: 'i didn't take the money - and i don't care about it, so here you can have my money.' Obviosuly the teacher/adult asked: 'then why do you offer to give your money?' - I was like: damn, now we're fucked and realised i could not avoid the consequences - mostly i feared my parents being told i had stolen something (imagine: their son already engaging in criminal activity! - that would have been beyond the 'bad' things i did at home for which i would receive very harsh punishments.) But 'fortunately for me' they didn't tell our parents - but the kids that had set up the trap kept keeping an eye on us as those that could not be trusted, and gave us meaningfull looks as we would arrive in the mornings at sports-camp: this was particularly painfull, and allmost a reason to not come anymore - suddenly being the 'scum' - it was interesting to expereince, because being 'the bad guy' didn't fit with my self-image very well - i was like: stop rubbing it in my face, can we please forget and pretend nothing happened? the shame-expereince was interesting: i wasn't feeling shame about what i had done, but because of how people saw me - if i would have gotten away with it, i would have seen the act as completely justified and a great expereince
don't remember what happened afterwards
i did experience myself as less than other children when it came to money (second time i write 'moeny') - not having money to spend, even though my needs were taken care of, i could not buy the extra's the others had acces to and felt less than - allmost like an experience of 'poverty'. This was simply because this was the regime at home: you don't give money easily to a child, even though my parents certainly never had financial problems and were actually just as elite as any middle-class. 'A child cannot handle money.' so if there was no explicit nessecity for me to need money ('because our parents provided us everything'), there was no reason to give me any. So this explains my curiosity towards money - i don't remember when exactly but at one point we started receiving 'our sunday': a very small amount of pieces (20 franks) which we were allowed to save - i asked for this because i saw it on television, that it existed, so therefore i asked my mom, if we could have the same system at home - so from then on we each had our 'spaarpot' (savings-pot) in which we collected our weekly coins. It took years before the amount of money saved in this way amounted to anything: after two years, i had maybe 1000 or 2000 franks of my own, which i probably spend on toys if on anything, but i remember being extremely cautious on how and if i will spend this moeny (!) because of how extremely long it had taken me to save that amount of money (for a working adult it takes perhaps 4-7 hours labour to collect this sum, if they have the minimum wage).
i also remember running upstairs before i would go to art-class in the weekends, to put some coins into a pocket in my hat, with which i would buy a little bag of chips. So, one day while leaving the house with my father, my hat fell of my head or something and the coins rolled out - because i felt i needed to hide the fact i was spening the 'precious money i was given' on bags of chips, as if the money wasn't really my own - this i also expereinced when being in zwitserland - i wrote about this in a blogpost a while back ( http://gabrielietsanders.blogspot.com/2 ... ained.html ) - where i was for the first time in my life trusted with a considerable amount of money (swiss franks) - becasue parents were advised to give a minimum sum of money to the chidren.
It was known that eventually at the end of our stay we would be allowed to visit a swiss shop to 'spend our money' - and everyone did indeed spend all their money, - but i didn't buy one thing for myself, because of feeling it wasn't really my mondy (!!) to spend, only buying stuff for my family, and then 'bragging' about what a good person i was, because look, i placed others before me. So - i spend the money, because i felt i had to and becuse i knew i couldnt keep it anyways on return, so i bought some stuff for the family and gave back the spare swiss franks to my parents.
This remins me of the bible-story of the merchant and his three sons - where each son is given 'talents' (money). One son receives 1 talent, the others one 2, the third one 3. Then the merchant leaves them and asks to be given the talents back upon return. The sons who received the 2 and 3 talents invested those in a bussyness-like manner and made profit seperately. The son with the one talent burried his one talent in fear of wasting it, to ensure he would be able to return the money.
Upon return the merchant is given the talents back he gave to the suns, plus the profit they made on it - and he speaks good words of these suns who invested their talents and made profit. The one sun who 'humbly' returns the one talent he burried - is judged in the story as being the stagnant one, who didn't dare to take a risk and who actually acted out of self-interest.
To me this 'morality' - when hearing this story - was like 'backwards'. I didn't relate at all: to me the self-interest was in those who had risked to lose all the money that was not theirs, through investing it in bussyness. To me, the one who burried his talent, was the one making the right/responsible descision.
ok - dinner time
Monday, September 28, 2009
horses, drawing
a point emerged related to drawing - i went to see a horse program on tv and a sudden fear crept on me - when a man was commenting on one of the horse boys: "he's not doing his best, he knows he must progress now but he doesn't" - first i related this fear to perhaps me not directing myself in this very situation i was in, but then i realised this was not so and it has to do with the drawing point.
i said to my mom: this makes me think about how i would draw horses. And she said: 'yes, salvator (an uncle) showed/thaught you how to draw a horse and then you just kept drawing horses.' this was a strange revelation, i had forgotten about: to me the drawing had begun because i thought of animals as beautifull. So within my mother saying this, stuff came up of how i actually indeed only copied animals from books, not really drawing from what i could see with my eyes 'in the world'. I remember having a slight aversion when initially having to draw 3D stuff - this was quite prominent - i just wasn't interested in how 3D looked like.
There seems to have been a break from where i would only and purely copy images from books - nothing else, i didn't even consider to go draw 'somehting of the world'- at art school this point was 'challenged' and critisized: "thats not expression, (copying) - you must draw 'real things in the wordl', that is 'real drawing' - otherwise you are not real."
im wondering - did i stop to enjoy drawing because of how i was told to draw ? - i remember being so bored at the weekend art-classes because to me that was not drawing how i enjoyed it and to me it was bullshit really - so i would participate an hour and the rest of the day i'd be doing nothing, because i simply didn't enjoy doing what the others were doing, how they defined 'creativity' - apparently i was not creative - and the whole endeavour and my life related to art continued in this same frustration, because i didn't see myself as creative, but 'merely copying' - and feeling i was not making any progress
this being another point where i wasn't interested in physical reality - even when i'd go to the zoo or see 'real animals' i would not be 'impressed' or affected to the extend where i would see a picture and immediately wanting to copy the image because of how awesome the form was. To me physiacl reality was formless - it wasn't made to be drawn. Id see phisical reality as 'less' than the pictures i saw - seeing the pictures as the actual cool thing, my first point of interest.
basically what i expereinced with masturbation is pretty similar - enjoying the pictures but being unable to enjoy and actual physical body at all.
the pictures were the real form - while the physical was merly a shadow of that - this reminds me of when i actually once got aroused by seeing a woman (on no other occasion did this happen) - i was working in Ikea and this tall lady walked in wearing a red dress, long hair, high heels if i remember well ( not sure ) - but basicaly the incarnated woman in red from the matrix, to the point where i couldn't believe this being i saw with my eyes actually existed and was walking there right in front of me. She was like a 'picture made alive'. On no other occasion did i ever expereince this with seeing a woman - it was allmost 'too much' for my system.
i said to my mom: this makes me think about how i would draw horses. And she said: 'yes, salvator (an uncle) showed/thaught you how to draw a horse and then you just kept drawing horses.' this was a strange revelation, i had forgotten about: to me the drawing had begun because i thought of animals as beautifull. So within my mother saying this, stuff came up of how i actually indeed only copied animals from books, not really drawing from what i could see with my eyes 'in the world'. I remember having a slight aversion when initially having to draw 3D stuff - this was quite prominent - i just wasn't interested in how 3D looked like.
There seems to have been a break from where i would only and purely copy images from books - nothing else, i didn't even consider to go draw 'somehting of the world'- at art school this point was 'challenged' and critisized: "thats not expression, (copying) - you must draw 'real things in the wordl', that is 'real drawing' - otherwise you are not real."
im wondering - did i stop to enjoy drawing because of how i was told to draw ? - i remember being so bored at the weekend art-classes because to me that was not drawing how i enjoyed it and to me it was bullshit really - so i would participate an hour and the rest of the day i'd be doing nothing, because i simply didn't enjoy doing what the others were doing, how they defined 'creativity' - apparently i was not creative - and the whole endeavour and my life related to art continued in this same frustration, because i didn't see myself as creative, but 'merely copying' - and feeling i was not making any progress
this being another point where i wasn't interested in physical reality - even when i'd go to the zoo or see 'real animals' i would not be 'impressed' or affected to the extend where i would see a picture and immediately wanting to copy the image because of how awesome the form was. To me physiacl reality was formless - it wasn't made to be drawn. Id see phisical reality as 'less' than the pictures i saw - seeing the pictures as the actual cool thing, my first point of interest.
basically what i expereinced with masturbation is pretty similar - enjoying the pictures but being unable to enjoy and actual physical body at all.
the pictures were the real form - while the physical was merly a shadow of that - this reminds me of when i actually once got aroused by seeing a woman (on no other occasion did this happen) - i was working in Ikea and this tall lady walked in wearing a red dress, long hair, high heels if i remember well ( not sure ) - but basicaly the incarnated woman in red from the matrix, to the point where i couldn't believe this being i saw with my eyes actually existed and was walking there right in front of me. She was like a 'picture made alive'. On no other occasion did i ever expereince this with seeing a woman - it was allmost 'too much' for my system.
songs
today i was writing and a song 'emerged' within me from axelle red:
"sensualité..."
and another song
"i'll kill her..." - so i'm wondering what the point is
i arranged to meet two people tomorrow near 'my university' - interesting word-placement
the song came up and in my body a movement, like a compound effect that starts like tensions - the song been here for couple days
yesterday my mom showed me pictures of people in sa, i reacted to some, but i wasn't aware, mostly to girl pictures - not sexually though (really?)
what is interesting is that these points are here, yet they need to compound for me to actually get it - i will walk around for days with one mind-demon trying to sort out what im expereincing through body responses on pains in the body, untill i unexpectedly see what its about
with pictures that come up related to pains
ok im done
another song was 'army dreamer...' - from kate bush
- perhaps its a mindfuck
- perhaps im not getting it
- anyways ill see
"sensualité..."
and another song
"i'll kill her..." - so i'm wondering what the point is
i arranged to meet two people tomorrow near 'my university' - interesting word-placement
the song came up and in my body a movement, like a compound effect that starts like tensions - the song been here for couple days
yesterday my mom showed me pictures of people in sa, i reacted to some, but i wasn't aware, mostly to girl pictures - not sexually though (really?)
what is interesting is that these points are here, yet they need to compound for me to actually get it - i will walk around for days with one mind-demon trying to sort out what im expereincing through body responses on pains in the body, untill i unexpectedly see what its about
with pictures that come up related to pains
ok im done
another song was 'army dreamer...' - from kate bush
- perhaps its a mindfuck
- perhaps im not getting it
- anyways ill see
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
from nothing back to nothing
what can be observed about death in this world?
That beings DIE and they are no more, they no longer exist - and then new beings are born who seem to come out of nowhere
How was life controlled on earth?
Through hopes and beliefs about what death actually represents
Beings would speak of a White Light, when having near death-expereinces and expereince themselves floating 'out of their bodies'
Through these and other accounts, perceptions were created - that apparently there exists something 'greater'
Human beings have allways remained in the belief that they cannot possibly be deceived about DEATH
but look, we come in this world and we don't know who the fuck we are
Then we live our lives, knowing that one day we will die
This are the only facts we have
Yet, we have claimed that we could not be deceived,
pretending to know what is going on in this existence
Based on what?
On a STORY ?
On good luck?
Have we ever been honest about death?
Why we really fear it ?
Have a look...
What do we know about death ?
Beings seem to disappear, to vanish from existence and this is called death
And then there are all the new beings that are born into this world - they seem to appear out of nothing
So, in death we return to NOTHINGNESS
and out of NOTHINGNESS the new are born in this world...
how INTERESTING
Would it not make sense that in death ALL and EVERYTHING that you have believed yourself to be within this world, is LOST ?
Would it not make sense that what we have designed ourselves to be as human beings in this world
is actually NOT REAL ?
That beings DIE and they are no more, they no longer exist - and then new beings are born who seem to come out of nowhere
How was life controlled on earth?
Through hopes and beliefs about what death actually represents
Beings would speak of a White Light, when having near death-expereinces and expereince themselves floating 'out of their bodies'
Through these and other accounts, perceptions were created - that apparently there exists something 'greater'
Human beings have allways remained in the belief that they cannot possibly be deceived about DEATH
but look, we come in this world and we don't know who the fuck we are
Then we live our lives, knowing that one day we will die
This are the only facts we have
Yet, we have claimed that we could not be deceived,
pretending to know what is going on in this existence
Based on what?
On a STORY ?
On good luck?
Have we ever been honest about death?
Why we really fear it ?
Have a look...
What do we know about death ?
Beings seem to disappear, to vanish from existence and this is called death
And then there are all the new beings that are born into this world - they seem to appear out of nothing
So, in death we return to NOTHINGNESS
and out of NOTHINGNESS the new are born in this world...
how INTERESTING
Would it not make sense that in death ALL and EVERYTHING that you have believed yourself to be within this world, is LOST ?
Would it not make sense that what we have designed ourselves to be as human beings in this world
is actually NOT REAL ?
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
declining a blowjob and more...
i had a dream where i was peeing - it looked like i was in my old student building - in a sink and a girl (a former neighbor from when i was a kid - wtf was she doing there !) appeared next to me and while i continued peeing, she asked me if i could help her with something, implying i would have to come with hr to her room - a casual thing she couldn't do by herself alone - and because i didn't immediately responded, she added:"I can give you a blowjob too." and she was looking at my penis - and i started getting excited by the idea and considering it, but then LO and BEHOLD, i declined because i experienced being directed by something separate from me, the arousal that was kicking in. she also said something that i had a beautifull penis or something, which is interesting, because the day before i did sf on the point of seeing the real phisicality as imperfect (in terms of how it looks and the odor of it) and pictures of bodies as perfect
so nothing happened in that particular dream
but then i woke up with wet pants anyways - whats that for ? though wet pants is the tactic my body uses to get me out of bed (to wake up) after i had enough sleep, yes it happens a LOT of times
did i have another dream or something? i don't even remember
so, because i woke up at three in the morning i decided to take a bath and wait for the sun to come up, i fell asleep for short moments in the bath though, and then i go t out after some dilemma - (the last point where i fell asleep, i was lying on my left side, totally uncomfortable, because i "wanted to roll myself sideways" - such mindbullshit) - so then i had breakfast: kellogs with sugar. this was a cool cange because i do every morning the same (brown bread with whatever on it, mostly cheese and mustard - allways actually)
yesterday we started watching V for vendetta and i totally fell asleep it was not even 21 h when we started watching. at one point i woke up in the sofa and i thought bernard was talking to me, but he was actually talking to the portal who was sitting behind me, i felt shaken because he said: "NOT EFFECTIVE" - with his eyes piercing in my direction - and in my sleepy confusion i thought he was saying i was ineffective in staying awake, so i started sitting straight and all and keeping my eyes open, but off course i immediately fell asleep again
i woke up again when the film was done - i was like, hmmm, thats deep sleep and went off to bed - so i slept some two hours in the couch already which caused me to wake up at 3 am in the morning
before v for vendetta we watched another film about a guy who totally fucks up - that was cool for a change, like he makes the one fuck up after the other and everybody gets killed except him
so nothing happened in that particular dream
but then i woke up with wet pants anyways - whats that for ? though wet pants is the tactic my body uses to get me out of bed (to wake up) after i had enough sleep, yes it happens a LOT of times
did i have another dream or something? i don't even remember
so, because i woke up at three in the morning i decided to take a bath and wait for the sun to come up, i fell asleep for short moments in the bath though, and then i go t out after some dilemma - (the last point where i fell asleep, i was lying on my left side, totally uncomfortable, because i "wanted to roll myself sideways" - such mindbullshit) - so then i had breakfast: kellogs with sugar. this was a cool cange because i do every morning the same (brown bread with whatever on it, mostly cheese and mustard - allways actually)
yesterday we started watching V for vendetta and i totally fell asleep it was not even 21 h when we started watching. at one point i woke up in the sofa and i thought bernard was talking to me, but he was actually talking to the portal who was sitting behind me, i felt shaken because he said: "NOT EFFECTIVE" - with his eyes piercing in my direction - and in my sleepy confusion i thought he was saying i was ineffective in staying awake, so i started sitting straight and all and keeping my eyes open, but off course i immediately fell asleep again
i woke up again when the film was done - i was like, hmmm, thats deep sleep and went off to bed - so i slept some two hours in the couch already which caused me to wake up at 3 am in the morning
before v for vendetta we watched another film about a guy who totally fucks up - that was cool for a change, like he makes the one fuck up after the other and everybody gets killed except him
Thursday, October 23, 2008
how i allowed money to influence and control me
how i compromised myself with regards to money
i allways have been telling a story about why i stopped drawing and how i would then start witing - having still many idea's about this
but what i could see yesterday, is that it was because of money
i was in fear that if i wasn't good enough, i would never be able to make money out of my drawings
i seemed to believe and take for granted that with my drawings i could make a lot of money, but in order for this to be true i believed i had to be the best - what happened is i met people in my life that proved to me that i wasnt the best, far from it - i started seeing myself as an averge drawer amongst the real talents, and they had it all together: obviously those guys would make money
so when people would start critisizing my drawings (not iteresting/original enough), it wasnt merely a blow to my ego, but also it destroyed my wish an hope that i woud be ale to make money out of my drawings - so i develloped an anger towards art, seeing it as worthless and totally useless
what motivated me to start and continue writing, was people giving me much credit for te stories i wrote - i was at the time reading the one book after the other from a belgian/flemish writer (herman brusselmans), who basically lived from writing his books and would in his autobiographical novels describe his lifestyle, which stirred my imagination tremedously. i wanted the same thing: writing to make money and not needing to have a job, apart from the writing, to sustain me.
so what needed to happen was: one summer i had spend all my days in writing a novel - it wasnt my first 'attempt', but this time i had the entire storyline figured out and i only needed to actually write it - and i already had received 'positive support'on this particular 'novel to be' which hade made me totally believe this time it would be it. this time i would actually publish a book and i would get famous enough to make me money. so what happened was at one point i send the novel to two people (not finished yet) - different people than those who had given me the 'good support' - and they both reacted in disappointment. i felt torn in the core of my being and i abandoned the project. my hope was now defintely dead - i disnt see 'a way out' for a while, as in: how will i now SURVIVE in this world - i resented work, so for me to have to actually take a job was worse than death.
so neither the drawing nor the writing i did for me, so it was interesting that the few tims i actually wrote something cool, it had been from a more innocent (with regards to the money desire) startingpoint, for instance in an email to someone, with not even the intention of keeping or saving what i wrote - interstingly enough i could not repeat this, because of the compromise in my startingpoint: the desire to eventually make money out of everything i wrote
so the soil from which i was attempting to create, was fear - fear that one day i would have no money
i allways have been telling a story about why i stopped drawing and how i would then start witing - having still many idea's about this
but what i could see yesterday, is that it was because of money
i was in fear that if i wasn't good enough, i would never be able to make money out of my drawings
i seemed to believe and take for granted that with my drawings i could make a lot of money, but in order for this to be true i believed i had to be the best - what happened is i met people in my life that proved to me that i wasnt the best, far from it - i started seeing myself as an averge drawer amongst the real talents, and they had it all together: obviously those guys would make money
so when people would start critisizing my drawings (not iteresting/original enough), it wasnt merely a blow to my ego, but also it destroyed my wish an hope that i woud be ale to make money out of my drawings - so i develloped an anger towards art, seeing it as worthless and totally useless
what motivated me to start and continue writing, was people giving me much credit for te stories i wrote - i was at the time reading the one book after the other from a belgian/flemish writer (herman brusselmans), who basically lived from writing his books and would in his autobiographical novels describe his lifestyle, which stirred my imagination tremedously. i wanted the same thing: writing to make money and not needing to have a job, apart from the writing, to sustain me.
so what needed to happen was: one summer i had spend all my days in writing a novel - it wasnt my first 'attempt', but this time i had the entire storyline figured out and i only needed to actually write it - and i already had received 'positive support'on this particular 'novel to be' which hade made me totally believe this time it would be it. this time i would actually publish a book and i would get famous enough to make me money. so what happened was at one point i send the novel to two people (not finished yet) - different people than those who had given me the 'good support' - and they both reacted in disappointment. i felt torn in the core of my being and i abandoned the project. my hope was now defintely dead - i disnt see 'a way out' for a while, as in: how will i now SURVIVE in this world - i resented work, so for me to have to actually take a job was worse than death.
so neither the drawing nor the writing i did for me, so it was interesting that the few tims i actually wrote something cool, it had been from a more innocent (with regards to the money desire) startingpoint, for instance in an email to someone, with not even the intention of keeping or saving what i wrote - interstingly enough i could not repeat this, because of the compromise in my startingpoint: the desire to eventually make money out of everything i wrote
so the soil from which i was attempting to create, was fear - fear that one day i would have no money
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