Originally, loneliness never seemed like it was “part of the trade” or that it carried such a heavy burden; which, was in exchange for my decision to be an artist. There is actually, a fight inside me that is directed toward my confidence and my insecurities. I find myself alone in my room with objects that I have turned into tools, even me. Yet, loneliness is not quite about my isolation but more about my space confined. When I’m alone or when I’m with people, I need walls to bounce on.
I understand it’s a process. I’m alone and that it is something I can’t escape. Even with someone in my thoughts, someone I could love, I can’t escape it. The negative connotation to the fact is my fault. However, I believe love can’t be created or destroyed; that it’s energy harmonized by my own freedom to release. As much as I try, I need walls. Yet, it’s not about an object of my affection, a girl even, but to just bounce man.
"I’m learning how to not take myself so seriously. That what I’m working, what I would like to work on, is not earth-strikingly important anymore. I am not earth-strinkingly important. So what am I saying? I am just clearing the decks for a simple death. You’re done with your work. You are done with your life and your life was your work." - http://youtu.be/U68bZbMM7q8
what are we doing? where are we going? broken off. set back.
Jaysun Rickards aka Soviet Red gave me some personal insight…
this song is about hiding from the world and hiding from people and hiding from yourself. inspired by a very brief relationship with a girl who was beautiful and smart and talented but was paralyzingly self-consious and neurotic and married to her own misery. its about that state of disarray your mind reaches where you can’t even look someone in the eyes because your head just isn’t right, and you want to hide behind that big curtain.you either hide away deeper and alienate yourself from everything, or you get your shit together and come back out into ‘show’.
I’m back to earth. I’m back to being my drunken self. I wake up hung-over and go to sleep high. Between this is where I’m most happy.
I never have enough money but I’m not motivated by it. I don’t seek for some life other than the one I have now. I’m making music, I’m writing stories, I’m drawing doodles, I’m expressing myself honestly, I’m destroying my body. It’s all about the moment when the canvas becomes consumed by the fire, where it shines so bright giving it a new color before it turns to ash. That’s all I want.
Instead, I’ve been repainting my canvas white. With every piece of art that I’ve become, I hold the weight of the last layer. I’ll never go back to it but I carry it around. I really want to just burn it down.