we’re gonna try again.
i don’t think i’ll ever stop feeling unimportant. i don’t think i’ll ever get over being ignored. i don’t think i’ll ever stop being scared, or feel truly confident, and i don’t believe that i’m going to be someone great.
but… i’m going to be someone. and that is great.
so i’m gonna make subpar art even if i question its worth, and i’m gonna share it even if nobody sees it, and i’m gonna write songs and sing them even if they’re never heard, and i’m going to run away and come back with things nobody has ever seen before, and will never see,
and i’m going to create little paper cranes for good luck, and send them out into the world knowing they’ll never come back. they’ll fly until they drop and land on someone who will be bonked on the head with a paper crane and then they will have to look up, and then they’ll forget the crane and their head and look at the clouds, and the invisible sky dragons will probably watch in amusement and sprinkle down mind magic to possess them and start having to be and start being, and my paper crane will have fulfilled its purpose, which wasn’t even a purpose, and it was the best one of them all.
i’m gonna write poetry about storms because i like storms. and i’m gonna play minor keys because i like how it sounds. and i’m gonna make little fires out of sticks just to watch them burn and marvel at creation by destruction.
what else am i gonna do?
i’m gonna draw even though it’s not good. and i might write books and not care about editing. and i’m gonna bake and not care about the dishes in the sink. and i’ll writing a broken musical about a broken world and how they learn to piece themselves together.
and i’m gonna tell myself that it’s okay if only one person sees it. if nobody sees it. if nobody says anything, i will take that as my cue to keep talking, and by the time i’m done i’ll have accidentally told the story of history and preserved it through a mishmash of languages and gestures and it’ll be epic.
i want to do more. what more?
i’m gonna talk about stuff even if it doesn’t matter. i’ll talk about people, black and white and red and yellow and brown and every color of the rainbow and i’m going to mention my friend’s grandmother esthella who was so wrinkly when she smiled you couldn’t see her eyes and thus it took me five days to learn she possessed gray eyes, and when you looked into them it was like staring into an underexposed galaxy.
i’m gonna be bolder, maybe a little scaredybraver, and i’ll be nerdy and weird and imperfect and i’ll regret some things and i will learn to love doing things for the sake of doing them and in not caring about making history i will live forever and i suppose i’ll just have to do it alone.
i told two good friends i felt like a wallflower in this sad jaded artist vibe hours and they told me they were there.
and i said “well, so is the wall”
and they replied and said the wall didn’t care about me and they did,
and i do believe they’re right. the canvas is not the friend, but rather for it.
i’m gonna try to push the inner critic potato away and i’ll let my voice crack and my lines smudge and my poetry break and it might not get me anything for my troubles but it won’t be trouble because it’s its own thing and that’s all it needs to be.
so, in advance, i apologize (that’s a canadian thing folx), because starting from now (no we were always trying it just went on and off) i’m going to let myself stop trying to be this and having to be that, speaking here and there, and i’m gonna be me.
i have. no clue who that person looks like.
but i guess i’m gonna find out.
so here we go. roll film.
i’m well aware of the shadows in my heart
i want to feel tectonic shifts
i want to be, i want to be astonished
i want to be astonished,