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My Life Needs...

How would that shake up my life?

Maybe I'll work my way around Europe.

Maybe I'll become a missionary in China (I could actually do this. I know people. :D )....
 
PBM, maybe you just need a good shtupping.

That could be not unlike a religious experience. Get you some, girl!

GOD, I SHOULD BE A FUCKING SEXUAL MATCHMAKER AND HELP PEOPLE WORK OUT THEIR FUCKING BULLSHIT WHILE SLAPPING EACH OTHER'S ASSES!

Cures what ails ya.
 
Oh, I admittedly need a damn good shtupping. :D

But I'm lookin' for something life affirming. And a radical change.

Moving to Russia and becoming a Communist?
 
I'm always a-muse-d (a little pun there), and a bit frustrated, when people come up to me and say things like "where do the ideas for your art come from?" "Oh, I could never do that." "I'm not an artist." "I have no imagination." Etc.

Artists get their ideas from everything around them, everything we're exposed to; life, nature, beauty, pain, love, loss, honesty, relationships, mundane trivialities, stupid people and ridiculous situations...

Your muse is inside you, but triggered by the complexity and wonder of living. Some call it love. Others God. And still others Art.

It's all one and the same. You are the muse, a reflection of the beauty of this world. You are connected to ALL this. The ennui you feel is the flipside of that. Flip it back around! Look at the world with a new eye. Die to the old ways and see things fresh for the first time EVERYDAY.

Be happy.
Be free.
Be.
 
Pthalo BlueMoon said:
Eh.

Maybe I could move to back to California and work in the film biz (I could do this, too. I know people. :D )...
Click to expand...

Or you could combine the two ideas -- move back to California and become a Communist. Admittedly, that wouldn't stand you out from the crowd, much, but hey...
 
Kerb Crawler said:
Your muse is inside you, but triggered by the complexity and wonder of living. Some call it love. Others God. And still others Art.
Click to expand...

I can't speak for the artistes among us, but for writers (or, at least, for this one) it's not love, or God, or Art. It's desperation, borne of the knowledge that if we don't get this shit out of our heads, it'll circle around in there, conspiring with the stuff that's already there to drive us insane.

As Stephen King would say, human beings need to "keep the gators fed" -- but we who sit at our keyboards half-mad and half-drunk, pounding at the keys and swearing at the rising sun -- we're different. We're twisted, in a way that most people who are allowed to walk the street freely aren't.

We're where the gators come from.

We don't want to feed them -- we want to get them out of our feverish skulls and the hell away from us.

;)
 
The Question said:
I can't speak for the artistes among us, but for writers (or, at least, for this one) it's not love, or God, or Art. It's desperation, borne of the knowledge that if we don't get this shit out of our heads, it'll circle around in there, conspiring with the stuff that's already there to drive us insane.
Click to expand...

Damn TQ, you're dead on with that. With me, if I can't write the million ideas that circle around in my head, then I can't sleep. I have to be able to write those damn thoughts out, it's the only way I can seem to make sense of some of the shit that goes on up there. Oh, btw did you ever read that other story?
 
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