the drinking elixir
i've been in the drinking mood, and as well, in the writing mood--good old me. the topic i feel incline to devulge in is art and why i like it. this will be cataloged into a narcissistic pleasure, which i will repent for later... i will also repent for the numorous mis-spellings and gramatical errors--but whatever, who reads this shit anyways. i suppose mutual friends who would encourage and/or put up w/ such behavior. i like art because it gets me closer to my own sense of narissisism, but in a little plea of defense, my sense of narissisim is subtly built on you and everyone else. i get bored; not that i'm significantly more intelligent than normal, but rather i am hard to get suffiently intrigued for a length of time or even nominally excited. i really can't help it. art seems to be the only occupation that challenges my attention span as well as tapping into my inherent narissism. art also taps into my sense of individualism, which already addresses my inherent narissism. hopefully my narissism is relavent enough to intrigue society--this would help me monetary wise, which would help because i'm fucking poor...not 3rd world poor, but i have multiple degrees and i'm poor. i don't like art because i think it is easy; this is certainly not the case, because it has certainly not been the case. i like art because you cannot take it away from me. you cannot dictate what i shall like as art, and giving the certain freedoms that i am allowed and can get away w/, what kind of art that i shall make and want to make. not that i am not aware that there is a collective understanding, and/or a genral consensus of "good" art verses "bad" art; nor that i would try to achieve suchthing. i believe, as well as a many other things, that there is a compromise. on the arrival of my 5th? vodka drink...iam not aware if i know what this compromise is, and if i did, how i would remind myself of it, but all i know is i have this incredible urge of process that is not conducive to the normal working world. it seems to be a game of endurance between the two...and it seems, that i am not afraid of the consequeses if i do not make it as an artist. time will tell, that is i am told that time will tell, as some kind of ultimate judge of this thing that i am experiencing. i know nothing but what i feel, but what do i know of the mechanisms of feeling and of this thing call intelligence? anyone out there?