Today is Wednesday, tunafish pasta day. I’ve been 90% alone for 8 days and counting. Keenan will be back from Mexico one week from now.
About one month ago I started eating animals again and stopped painting. I lived on sugar, meat and anxiety with an affinity for clinging and Family Guy. With all this quiet, I am beginning to find my path again, a path I lost sight of one year ago upon my jarring arrival to this great city.
When I first came to San Francisco I wanted to be at least as productive, financially stable and socially involved as I was in New York or Kentucky even. I settled into a home, banged out 10 paintings in 3 months, found two jobs, a boyfriend, a new boyfriend, my dearest girlfriend Mary and hot damn! I was all set. Another new apartment, a gallery show, a new art collective, whew. I’ve had a fantastic year on the surface but why does my journal read so sad? A few excerpts, unposted blog entries, diary:
December 16, 2009
“Today I feel like my life is wasting away. No freaked out emails please. I’m not going to cut my neck with a rusty saw. God that’s nasty, probably the last thing I’d want to do. Gross. No, I’m just bored. I finished my first Main Line. I’ve started a new painting ( my other 13 are mounted in black frames around the house.) It’s foggy out, and drizzly and cold. I feel undernourished in every way. I’m pissed off. I’m just really really pissed off and bored with myself. I want an adventure and I don’t know where to start.”
February 20, 2010
“Today Brandon said, it’s so funny you realize your anxious about nothing, but you just can’t stop doing it. Yeah, and when you say things like that, it makes me want to hide from you. I know that I should not be anxious. I know I can drink a lot of booze to make it not happen. I am not anxiety. It’s just something that happens. It doesn’t matter if I’m bored or busy, in love or not. It’s something that goes on in my body. At least it doesn’t give me the shits anymore. I don’t really consider myself quiet or shy or nervous but when Brandon says it…”
February 25, 2010
“Sometimes I’m ungodly sad for the most irrational reasons. I exist in this pool of self-loathing and any small success or love I’ve known vanishes. Apart from feeling a bit isolated in my new absolutely gorgeous downtown apartment, my life is good. I have a job. I have a wonderful boyfriend who constantly surprises me with his kindness and sincerity. I have friends who will stand beside me forever, excellent health, yet somehow, every morning I have to fight this demon. I have this urge to sleep all day that drags me into headaches, vertigo, more lethargy. I wake up every day with this notion that I have nothing to live for, nothing to do and it’s frightening because it seems like it will never end. It began after my first couple of nights of staying here alone. I would cry, go to the video store, bring the video home, complete it, and cry again until I finally fell asleep.
April 1, 2010
Today I awoke to a scent that did not exist. It smelled like a dead fish and it was STRONG. I thought maybe I might be clairscentiaent. Maybe.”
June 19, 2010
Today is about becoming loud again and if that means downing an entire bottle of white wine today only to throw it up tomorrow, so be it! Where is my singing Adele? The one who laughs, listens to Beyonce? This sober career version cannot find her. It might mean paint, it might mean vortex, it might mean running and cigarettes. She’s in there somewhere. One thing is certain. This studio does not feel like her home to me.
June 25, 2010
I’m alone, even if it is just for the weekend. I’m unconnected. Where is my goddamn connection! My paintings are trite and irrelevant. I don’t know how to BE anything else.
…to be continued.