ok, so i just want to make beautiful things . . . oh yeah, and have people appreciate them.
i mean, without an outside viewpoint, can anything be truly beautiful? maybe it can, but i’m not interested in entertaining only myself, i want to share beauty with anyone who will appreciate it, or even those who won’t, because there are perhaps few things more terrifying than beauty that is not understood, or if we felt like polishing off an old chestnut that lays truth and beauty in a comfortable overlap, truth can be terrifying.
but what’s so beautiful about terror? well, if it is honest reaction to a truth, those moments of terror can certainly be more finely cathartic than any sort of hum-drum moment.
but dammit, i sat down to write about beauty, i want to create beauty, but obviously there is still this part of me that feels as though the world doesn’t deserve beauty, that ol’ boogie man of an ego that i keep under wraps of the sheerest gauze is poking his head out once again and casting about with all-encompassing statements, flying me to my mountaintop and pointing my eyes back towards humanity with these arrogant blinders,
to hell with you all!
imaginary people who aren’t even reading this, even if you stumbled here unintentionally, you gave up long ago and i’m not going to reach you and in the steam of my rage i’ve completely fogged over my initial intent
honestly, i just want to make beautiful things
honestly, i took the time tonight to tape together some sheets of clean white paper, i didn’t know what i wanted to draw, but i wanted to draw something, i’m not much of a visual artist, but i was in the mood to give into that gentle childish instinct to get out my crayons and scrawl out a pastoral, but in the mess that is my apartment, i couldn’t find my crayons, so instead i sat down at the keyboard and hammered out this . . . yet another convoluted metaphor for modern life . . .
sigh, i just want to make beautiful things, all i can find is my scissors