It looks like it’s dyin’ and it’s hardly been born

I know every entry I put up here mentions or alludes to not being satisfied with life. The truth is, though, every second I get to sit around and think about what’s going on… that thought always comes rushing at me.

Right now, while reading Bob Dylan’s Chronicles, I’m reminded that there’s life to be lived out there and I’m not living it. Doesn’t mean I have to be a revolutionary artist in some form. I just want to be out there… learning what so many from the past have to teach… learning all realms of knowledge… performing and entertaining the world regardless of fame… using my body in all the ways these bodies can move… exploring the souls of the world, the heart-breaks and jubilations.

I’m doing none of these right now.

My time is mostly devoted to making the life of my girlfriend good and happy. I guess that’s a worthwhile occupation and I do pretty well at it… but that’s too much time on one person. I need more. I have my friends… but we’re not the hungry geniuses we once were. We sing karaoke at a bar every week… which is fun, god knows it… but I need more. My time is filled with things other than my desires.

Then again, at the heart of everything, my desire has always been to make people happy. But I need more.

I have always had trouble with steps. I don’t know how to make that step into the life I desire. I’m sure it’s within reach though.

Art has always felt a little beyond my reach. I’ve read, heard and seen quite a selection of it. Once fancied being a creator of it. All the while, I felt alienated from it. I didn’t get it the way others did, or at least the way they spoke of it. Art (writings, paintings, music, etc) were always a curious fascination with me. The artist figure intrigued me. The genius. John Lennon. Tolstoy. Kafka. Van Gogh. Charlie Parker. The obsession came from distance though. That world was unknown to me and so I held it in reverence… trying to discover it. What have I ever known about the true beauty of art? I felt the stings of art before… but it never consumed me. I don’t hear, see, receive the artist’s soul.

And I’ve always wanted to.

I always thought I might have a shot at acting. Not to say I have a shot at being a famous actor… there’s no shooting for that… it’s all a mess of chance and circumstance… I have always thought I’d have a shot at acting and doing a good job at it. The step back into that world scares me more than mostly anything right now (probably because I want it nearly more than anything else). I watch auditions come and go, hesitating then regretting. Five years gone since "The Boyfriend." What do I know?

More than I believe.
But I don’t believe in much.

So here’s a nice epic of an entry, ellaborating on my recurrent theme of disatisfaction. I want more out of life, but I fail to have the drive to get any of it. Modern culture doesn’t seem to be compatible with what I want anyways. Modern life seems a drag, man. And all my thoughts ultimately come back to that realization. Good thing I’m not alone thinking too much right now.

just woke up

May 21, 2006

i really liked this entry. you’re singing my song david. i absolutely loved the line, ” but we’re not the hungry geniuses we once were.” i’m scared of auditions too. we should go together.

cilantro

May 25, 2006

I’m glad to hear something a bit more specific : ) Usually you’re very poetic, but it’s hard to tell what it all means from a distance… Which is probably why my immediate reaction to your comments about art is that art doesn’t work without critics and observers. Music wouldn’t be nearly so important if there weren’t people who just played it, or just listened to it, as well as those who

write it. There’s a lot of fuss made about artists’ “patrons” and “muses” but I think what it all really means is that nobody can make art unless they are inspired, usually by the world and people around them–and it’s all meaningless anyway if people don’t react to it one way or another. You always need the person who actually has the vocabulary (by which I DON’T mean the cr-p that critics

and professors have made standard, but just the ability to describe what you see in a way that people can understand). I’ve always really loved the way you described your friends, or plays or music or books, etc., that you found fascinating. I’ve never seen you act, so I can’t comment on that. But don’t ignore what you can do. Not very many people can say those kinds of things and sound both

meaningful and interesting. That’s worth something. (The ability to really observe others is probably also helpful if you’re acting, of course.)

saix

June 22, 2006

heh heh i am full of san miguel & your notes make me to giggle

i feel so much the same! i want more, but i’m settling for a boyfriend! but all i’ve wanted to do is love people and this is a tangible way to love someone. but am i wasting all my energy on just one person? anyway, david. i want to tell you to do something drastic and dramatic and follow your dreams, but then again, what do i know? maybe we are only meant to be simple boring creatures.

-heather marie. and one day i promise i’ll write you!

winterist

August 14, 2006

I get this way too, usually when I set up grand visions of what I will accomplish and barely dent the list. I’ve found that smaller lists is the key to being satisfied with where I am. I hope things have changed since this ‘epic of an entry’.

BlessedChica

“hungry geniuses” seem to grow up and get stupid, dont they? my i have missed your writing