Music and art.
I miss the intimacy of my marriage. I miss the hours on the catch watching nothing together, with our dogs each competing to be the closest. I miss the mornings waking up with her, and I miss the nights, as our bodies would warm the bed in winter. I miss her childish screams of fear every time she would see a cockroach.
But that is all gone. I do not think I will ever have a home like that again. I do not think I will ever be able to trust like that again.
What's left: music and art.
I think back to when we started, my friend and myself were making music. We were taking it seriously. We were good. Weird as fuck, but good. But then came the choice: her or the art.
I chose poorly.
Now I've been given a second chance.
The thing is this: women are a time consuming endeavour. If she is the right one, then it is well worth it. Choose your time investments wisely.
Freed from the obligations of a wife, a family, a home, I have time again. This is a sword with two edges and both of them cut. One edge, is the time to think, to wallow, to stagnate.
The other is time to work, to produce, to create.
So now I fill my time with art, music and writing.
Do I want to earn from these pursuits?
Yes.
But I honestly just don't give a fuck.
I just want to create. Even if it feels like shouting full voiced in a room of coke heads all screaming, "what about me! ME! ME! ME!"
Alright, cool. Fuck it, life goes on until it doesn't and then, fuck it anyway.
I am not happy, but happiness is a distraction. All that is left is to create. To burn the fuel of my life's tragedy and turn it into a artwork to mystify, confuse, confound, confront some viewer's future vision.
Until then, hands up, fists clenched, Work Workout Write and let's keep struggling down that path to awesomeness.
