Sunday, 7 December 2008

Four weeks later

Ideas for things I could be Expert at by 2019. I intended to write a list but actually once you factor in that the genius would then be 36, you have to begin to rule things out. Like ballroom dancer. Anything involved with one's physical appearance perhaps. I got kind of obsessed with the 10,000 hours thing, feeling like I'd already failed. I don't fell like I've got any momentum right now, except maybe a growing language pool. I think perhaps 20s are a time for the physical body, then as you get older you have to ensure your mnd is being conditioned too. I don't know what I thought when she said 'you don't look 26'. I wondered whether she meant physically, literally, or spiritually. I didn't know. I've never felt 'old enough' to grow up till about now, when concurrently I also feel too old. I'm not in the (25 and under) bracket. I am forever to old to be a Shoreditch hottie, or friends with some teenage coolsters. I am too old to design a scene. Perhaps this should be comforting, as I never strived to be part of anything.

I had a good time last night and thought perhaps it would be worth staying at Monmouth till next christmas just to see all those candles again. They were just beautiful, I could live in a cave like that. And it made be feel like when I first started; all these people flock there to be part of the aesthetic, the money, the history, the friendliness, the beautiful people. We work there. We are part of it without having to pay. It is a strange thing. The boundary that you have to cross from customer, separated by your spending power, to employee, embodying all the greatness and imbued with warmth. Compare that to Coffee Union. Takeout pizza piss up in a 30quid dress. I would now rather live in an unlit cave.

The evening was too short. There were too many interesting people to possibly have time to chat to. I find I come alive when my brain is stimulated. My words roll out and I'm surprised by the speed and eloquence. I come to decide things out of my mouth rather than in my head. I surprise myself with my ability to like people. I really enjoyed my dress and am SO grateful that I had help to de-wine it. I was about to cry and I was saved, it was so warming. I super enjoyed wearing my outfit in an environment where it could cause conversation, reaction and recognition. There's no point in anything if you can't share it with people. No point in dressing well, reading well, seeing films, seeing sights. If it doesn't process through it's existence, the dress just sits in the John Lewis moth bag and in my head. Still non existent: non effective. Pointless. This was what was missing before. Everything was still, there were no people I connected with equally, to share views, plans and ideas.

I got grumpy again last night at my lack of photo-taking. Capturing images of things that I would like to look at again. A kind of documentary photography really, not like Facebook pictures. Good candles, good outfits, roasting chestnuts and stuff. It made me realise that I must be kind of wanting to make something more permanent? Like wearing these outfits is all good but they are transient and it's not like I can even see it! That thing that making art is just about making the things you see in your head in real life. I liked what she said about still calling yourself an artist even if you're not making anything. A doctor doesn't stop being a doctor. Except perhaps Harry Hill. I liked what it said in the Vogue interview about Shona Heath being an artist. I just thought if I'm getting upset and seeing beautiful things that wont be captured forever (for me, in my head), perhaps I do want to make permanent things, and that will make me feel good again. In a group though. Not solitary like an artist. Maybe my ideal of that is outdated. It is isn't it. Being am artist doesn't have to be a traditional solo pursuit. I used to enjoy it didn't I, now I like people too much and things don't make any sense until they are expressed and shared.