for some reason I can't live with uncertainty, it paralyses me. yet I never am certain of anything in this world, as I transit from one scene to another, redefining myself as I see fit, in order to fit.
these turbulent highways of desperation, as I seek to provide and stay alive, become a cause of deep focus, causing me to cling onto myself, often losing what I have, if only to keep me from losing myself, completely.
I've lost 2 significant others along the way, this way, being incapable of grasping and keeping all things, including those who do not wish to be kept. I've concluded that the goal of others is rarely to allow one to be, but eventually to assume all control in all things, even subconsciously.
No longer fooled by the illusion of the better unknowns I'm gradually learning to keep myself pure, whilst contented in the warmth and brightness of the daytime sun and the company of like minded peoples.
foremost in this pursuit are my daughter, some brighter colleagues, a few, choice purveyors of artisan food delicacies in my abode of London's Greenwich Town. I eye daily a pile of canvases in my studio, which call to me, each day, to be smeared in my thick, gooey gore, in a fashion that screams forth my heart.
I hit a point in life, when the fear and the anger peaked and I couldn't continue without destroying myself and everybody around me, if only emotionally. but now I'm free from most normal encumbrances, with mostly the daily drive to breathe and hold my countenance, in the face of the ones who'll never understand my mind, which is mostly everybody I'll ever meet.
I could write more, and forever, and I probably shall.
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