Monday, September 15, 2008


I'm thinking about writing a book. Not a story book, a poetry book. Bad poetry, like E. E. Cummings. A friend asked me once what kind of book I would write if I would write one, and that is what I answered. I didn't take myself seriously at all when I said it, but now I think about it, and I think that if I would want something of me to last and leave behind, that is what it would be. Strange, you would think that I would have said something more visually artistic. And I guess this is true of course too, because this is the kind of mark I currently make upon the world. But to be quite honest it is a much safer route. I can put all kinds of intense thought into my artwork, deeply personal and incredibly tragic or even completely unhinged and you can interpret it however you choose. You see it through your own lense and bring a whole lot of your own beauty or pain to whatever it was that I just tried to show you. And I can feel better because I got it out there, and just blame you for your misinterpretation.
But when I am gone, heaven forbid the world be rid of me! ha! then I might be ok with my true self being on paper. A more blunt form of my emotions and very internal processing. Then I don't have to look you in the eye. So yeah, I might write a book someday. But I'll be dead before it's published, and you probably will be too, and hence this post too is completely pointless.


bittersweet leaves said...

You're being way too cheerful.

Miss you! :)

Katrina said...

You're hilarious... you got me thinking though.. I wonder if I should write some bad poetry & some bad artwork to go with it.