stardustcboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My Muse hath forsaken me...that two-timing whore! fucking bitch! that fickle lil slut! she just up and fuckin' left me, like that...probably for some young lil art school student! goddamn whore! *sigh* yeah, my muse and i broke up about...oh...6 months ago i think...well...the official break would probably be like a month ago; but it's been a very slow, sad, painful, steady decline over the past 6 months for sure. at first she would just get distant, you know, like she was somewhere else in her head. then she stopped doing all the lil nice things, then she started staying out late, then not coming home until way later in the morning smelling like cheap booze and cologne. finally she just left and never came back... my sketchbooks have collected an inch of dust, my LEGO, hell even my diary. they just sit there, mocking me. some friends you are!! i try...try to sit down and do something. the blank page of my sketchbook just stares back in abject silence. i look at the pile of red LEGO...so many new pieces, so many ways of putting them together...nothing. my diary loses its readership as each of them is bored to tears by my random and completely mundane diatribes on daily life. sometimes a flitting image of inspiration darts quickly across the emptiness of my mind like a tumbleweed blown across a barren desert. just like that it's gone, a faint after-image but nothing solid. my well of inspiration seems to have run dry. my mind is like this dying world empty and lifeless. ghosts of old ideas and recycled thoughts haunt the vast and darkened landscape. there is nothing new here, nothing grows...just dust...dust and quiet stagnation. i try to stoke the flames of my imagination...try to push myself to the top of the creative peak. i've been reading some old novels, tapped back in to some old AD & D sourcebooks (i told you i was a closet nerd), looked through my artbooks, checked out artist sites online...all in the hope of absorbing that energy, that vitality back into my mind. nothing. i want to write erotic fiction. i want to do fantastic paintings (digital or otherwise). i want to write my screenplay. i want to sketch from life. i want to build giant robots. i want to CREATE something. what is standing between me and that font of maddening and sublime genius? i feel that my life has become this dull and repetative world. work, bills, sleep, work, bills, sleep, work, bills, sleep... i sporadically ease the pain of scheduled entropy with fits of alchoholic, pharmeceutical, and intoxicant anesthetic delight. i keep the tide of spiritual death away with moments of laughter, dancing, merriment and fucking...but i feel those moments slowly slipping...slipping...slipping... i feel overwhelmed with banality. every effort to create spontaneity or excitement is met with the supreme and immovable resistance of practical life...being realistic...being future-minded.... i'm losin' my touch. all my creative effort and energy goes into my work and there's nothing left for me. outside of work i'm busy toiling with the everyday blah, blah, blah... everything has to be to schedule, everything has to fit in on the weekend, or within those precious 5-6 hours before bedtime. 5-6 hours to eat, do dishes, talk to my wife, relax, maybe make love, then...??? then i read or watch a movie. every fibre of my being SCREAMS for the days when i would stay up all night, feverish with the surges of lightning quick inspiration. furiously sketching or writing or building not satiated until i was finished. pages would fly by, images pouring out of my head, thoughts spilling onto the computer monitor, the mechanics of a new arm construction practically building themselves in front of my eyes. now? now all that is a faint and fading gasp before sweet black dreams take me away to a peaceful oblivion before the regimen begins again at dawn. will it ever return? what can i do to bring fuel to my fire? to return that spontaneous energy and life to my existence? this stupid society is sucking my will to live. i fear that i'm turning into a lifeless husk of a man. an undead corporate creature. drained of life and warmth and spirit. nothing left. nothing. must. keep. fighting. i'm reading you. 4:00 p.m. - 2005-07-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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