How I've missed this

My god, writing, I've missed you.

De Theatercompagnie Postcards by Experimental Jetset (2006) via MoMA

No. 132: How I’ve missed this

My god, writing, how I’ve missed you.

There’s something different about you.

You’re wild, is the plainest way to put it. You’re the only place where my stream of consciousness-type meanderings can be perceived as something worthwhile, interesting, artistic even, whether or not they actually are.

Where other artforms require some amount of polish, you allow me to be rough around the edges, and sometimes  to lop off the edges completely. So long as I can eek out some amount of articulation, you give outlines to unruly and shape-shifting ideas, and all this, with only words. 

That, my love, is wild.

Please don’t blame me, then, for getting bored with you sometimes. 

Really, I can’t explain it. There’s no rhyme or reason to fade on something as dynamic and beautiful as you. But I’m human. And as you know, the world offers far too much in the realm of creative expression to not pull me every which way. There’s so much to do, and so little time. I think it’s normal.

The consolation?

With the consistency of the changing seasons I always find my way back to the land of sentences and paragraphs and white space.

Thank god.

It’s pure and perfect here.

It’s incredible — the perfectness.

Because of course nothing is perfect. 

But somehow you make the thoughts and ideas of those who express themselves thought your medium feel perfect. 

And that’s perfect. 

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. You’re my number one, despite what my actions might suggest. Yes, I’ve been away. But have I?

Allow me to attempt to convince you I’m not, in fact, a two-faced fuck, but exactly the type of person you want to wade in your waters — someone deeply fascinated by everything having to do with what it means to live, to make things, to express oneself. 

For most of the last few months, I’ve been dabbling with video, which you should know involves much more of you than you might care to admit. The only proof that should be demanded of me is the fact that, as a writer, I feel attracted to video. But I’ll give you more. 

It’s storytelling. 

That’s all.

There’s nothing to be worried about. 

My ongoing adventures in the medium of moving pictures have been incredibly rewarding, educational, enjoyable, and a hundred other adjectives denoting a theme of inspiration and contentment. I’ve foud new ways to express myself, not in replacement of, but in addition to, you. I’ve become a better artist generally, something that can come only from strictly following one’s interests, rather than strictly restricting them to one or two.

I hope you’ll agree: that’s a damn beautiful thing. 

Another beauty is connecting with another group of creative people, and in new ways.

Through this newsletter, thankfully, we’ve connected with a bunch of passionate and intelligent readers, some of whom have even decided to graciously support me fiscally, something for which I’m eternally grateful. I hope we’ll continue to find more readers here. I think we will. 

Likewise, with video, a medium highly popular amongst anyone with a smartphone — so, like, everyone — I’ve amassed a community of 13.4k followers who have found something to enjoy about my work.

That feels good. And you, writing, have been a central part of this master plan, one that entails joyfully pursuing all that fascinates me, building a body of work around those things, and maybe even one day selling a book or two. 

And no, I don’t shy away from the topic of money in your presence.

Money matters unless you’re a trust fund beneficiary, which I am not.

I can be creative endlessly — and I will. 

This we know. 

I will work tirelessly — because what else is there to do.

That’s established.

The final piece, then, is a getting a little nice-to-have compensation for my time — the same way many artists have, are, and will.

I deserve that, too, dammit. 

But it must be earned. 

This requires some amount of strategy and organization, but not strategy and organization for the sake of it. Rather, it’s 1) doing things I love 2) acknowledging the overlap, if there is any, in terms of potential to get paid 3) executing on that overlap.

Right now, that execution seems to be 1) continuing to write my ass off to find new subscribers here 2) continuing to make fun videos to find new followers there 3) to write a book and offer it to the world, the purchase of which would help me inch ever-closer to doing what I love all day, every day, instead of most of the day, every day. 

You may notice that number 3 is in direct conflict with number 1 and and number 2, time-wise. 

You’re right. And I’m working on it.

But the point is, writing, you’re a part of all of this. 

You always have been. 

You always will be. 

You’re the reason I exist as I do, which, if that sounds wildly romantic, good, because it is. You’ve made me, and continue to shape who I am, and with that said, you should know that I’ll never not be intertwined with you like a vine looping through each letter of each sentence.

At times, I’ve picked up books in order to see you again. 

It’s nice, but not the same. 

This is a good thing.

I realized that what I’m looking for in those books is something only me and you can do.

So, let’s do it. ♦

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