It’s have been a while. I noticed my inspirational moments and brainstorms have been far too rare by now. Usually, I write in the middle of the night, when my mind is uneasy or unhappy. These days I have been like this at the daylight too.
I’m employed now, for about a month or so. Totally unhappy and insecure about it, though. And having lots and lots of time to think about life and it’s sacred questions. The ones no one ever talks about.
Some strange things are happening in my house. It’s the kind of activity that we train our minds to ignore. Doors slamming shut or open, stuff out of their places, cats scared to death with no reason. Now, you see, I’ve never been a really spiritual kind of person, but these strange activities combined with my absurd lack of luck these days are making me think. What if I am haunted, or possessed, like in the movies? It’s like almost everything is going so wrong. Always feels silly think about it, and I remember the sweet and cutest little rhyme of Tim Burton’s Vincent:
“You’re not possessed, and your’e not almost dead
These games that you play are all in your head.
You’re not Vincent Price, you’re Vincent Maloy!
You’re not tormented or insane, you’re just a young boy.
You’re seven years old, and you are my son
I want you to get outside and have some real fun.”
Maybe these games that I play are all in my head, like always. Maybe all I need is to get outside and have some real fun.
Beyond any fear of the unknown that I could have, what I fear the most is gettin’ caught in mediocrity. My incapacity of drawing anything, even a little fucking skirt is scarying the shit out of me. I’m so afraid of becoming a cliché. The strugglin’ artist, the tortured poet. What a joke.
The light at the end of the tunnel is getting too grey. I have to get the fuck out of here.
And for the ones who’d never saw Vincent, here it is!