I am beyond tired of getting messages in my inbox that tell me to communicate, connect dots, clue the reader in and don't fall for that shit about 'oh the artist is not responsible for readers not getting it', what? I was told fish and bird...s can write and that is what it appears that I am doing. That being a WRITER means to rewrite/edit/complete pieces/ publish/compile....that that* is writing. Messages telling me that I'm not suppose to tell people I'm writing, that that* guff only goes over w/the art damaged fringe and I am more talented than that? To even consider my writing is damaged is your loss and YOU can fuck right off, shove that PhD up your bloody ass. Don't like that I use swear words from time to time...oh well, I am a force that you cannot control and I refuse to control my writing. Go ahead and think that I am a damaged writer if you like. I'm not here to please you, serve you, feed you or bring the box office home. This is my life and I will continue to create and project what resonates within and without me.
I am fed up with the ears and eyes of old men trying to dig graves and dream up wars for the inspired to die in. Unlike you, I do not expect anyone to read my writing, I'm simply writing because it's a way out of myself and also into myself. It's a channel I tune into and an expression I use as a medium. Edgar Degas was born today on July 19 in 1834 so I will reflect on what he once said that stood out to me about creating - "Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things" and as a painter of words I do not give a fuck about what you think I need to do, should do or not do. You're not living my life, you don't know how to take chances and YOU don't know me. YOU don't write with fever and soul like I do so how would you know, you have not lived through this. What gives you the right? I'm not a goddamn news reporter, frozen inside whose here to deliver the subject matter in a stone cold voice nor am I writing Breakfast at Tiffany's. Don't try to figure me out -- you can't -- you may try but you will never be there, inside of me. I write to communicate the deeper seed that lives inside, I write for many reasons -- one is so that I will not end up like YOU -- dead, frozen, lifeless and seemingly chained inside. If people get lost with my words or in my words and cannot focus (like you also said) then that isn't my concern, they are just not people who connect with my creations. I'm not trying to gain public appreciation and YOU have lost the plot.
YOU who sends me messages at all hours I appreciate the fire you drum up in me but I do not strive to be like YOU. I have human respect for all but I don't need to see your way as this is my road, my dance and I am the driver, I am the dancer of my own words and yes, by the way, and in case you didn't know I know what's good for me. Don't think twice. Fever, passion and channeling words are just a natural part of my way...stick to your methods and I'll stick to my intuition and birth right. My voice is a strong song and you will not be able to teach it or calm it. It is none of my business if you hear me or not but whatever you are hearing so be it. Your life must be spinning out of control to spend so much time reading my entries -- do yourself a favor and go write about that and then maybe you won't have such an incessant need to try to sway me your way and then, instead you'll be able to offer up a ripe slice of words for your reader. Truly, we are a different breed. I haven't lived this long to sink down and let rules and regulations and voices like you try to guide or enforce your ways onto me. I am a woman, not a girl like you also called me. There is no wrong or right, especially when one writes from the soul. The writer I am suppose to be and am is one who is free, writes with abandon and refuses to live in caged thoughts. YOU who send me messages and lays your writings and rules on me can't stand that I am free with my pen and burn the box. No, your world is just NOT for me...and no we don't have to share it. We may breathe the same air but your world is not the air that I wish to breathe, I prefer my own, thanks. Labeling me as feminist because I have my own ideas is also insane. It's true for you though, whatever you dream up about me, as you just can't handle it, you can't handle me. I'm a force who refuses to be a slave -- a slave to your slavery; A place where many recognize themselves in their commodities and find their soul in their automobile, their degrees, their split-level homes and kitchen equipment. NO. THAT'S JUST NOT ME.
The Dance Class (La Classe de Danse) born July 19th 1873 - Edgar DegasSee More
I am fed up with the ears and eyes of old men trying to dig graves and dream up wars for the inspired to die in. Unlike you, I do not expect anyone to read my writing, I'm simply writing because it's a way out of myself and also into myself. It's a channel I tune into and an expression I use as a medium. Edgar Degas was born today on July 19 in 1834 so I will reflect on what he once said that stood out to me about creating - "Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things" and as a painter of words I do not give a fuck about what you think I need to do, should do or not do. You're not living my life, you don't know how to take chances and YOU don't know me. YOU don't write with fever and soul like I do so how would you know, you have not lived through this. What gives you the right? I'm not a goddamn news reporter, frozen inside whose here to deliver the subject matter in a stone cold voice nor am I writing Breakfast at Tiffany's. Don't try to figure me out -- you can't -- you may try but you will never be there, inside of me. I write to communicate the deeper seed that lives inside, I write for many reasons -- one is so that I will not end up like YOU -- dead, frozen, lifeless and seemingly chained inside. If people get lost with my words or in my words and cannot focus (like you also said) then that isn't my concern, they are just not people who connect with my creations. I'm not trying to gain public appreciation and YOU have lost the plot.
YOU who sends me messages at all hours I appreciate the fire you drum up in me but I do not strive to be like YOU. I have human respect for all but I don't need to see your way as this is my road, my dance and I am the driver, I am the dancer of my own words and yes, by the way, and in case you didn't know I know what's good for me. Don't think twice. Fever, passion and channeling words are just a natural part of my way...stick to your methods and I'll stick to my intuition and birth right. My voice is a strong song and you will not be able to teach it or calm it. It is none of my business if you hear me or not but whatever you are hearing so be it. Your life must be spinning out of control to spend so much time reading my entries -- do yourself a favor and go write about that and then maybe you won't have such an incessant need to try to sway me your way and then, instead you'll be able to offer up a ripe slice of words for your reader. Truly, we are a different breed. I haven't lived this long to sink down and let rules and regulations and voices like you try to guide or enforce your ways onto me. I am a woman, not a girl like you also called me. There is no wrong or right, especially when one writes from the soul. The writer I am suppose to be and am is one who is free, writes with abandon and refuses to live in caged thoughts. YOU who send me messages and lays your writings and rules on me can't stand that I am free with my pen and burn the box. No, your world is just NOT for me...and no we don't have to share it. We may breathe the same air but your world is not the air that I wish to breathe, I prefer my own, thanks. Labeling me as feminist because I have my own ideas is also insane. It's true for you though, whatever you dream up about me, as you just can't handle it, you can't handle me. I'm a force who refuses to be a slave -- a slave to your slavery; A place where many recognize themselves in their commodities and find their soul in their automobile, their degrees, their split-level homes and kitchen equipment. NO. THAT'S JUST NOT ME.
The Dance Class (La Classe de Danse) born July 19th 1873 - Edgar DegasSee More
