The point I made in the other post is rather profound. I don't know how true any of the stuff regarding Sans Francisco is, because I think I'm just having a bad day, but the statements about creation are true. I only feel real when I'm creating. Sometimes a conversation will enthral me. That's actually one of the preconditions for my infatuation with someone, in conversation with them I am enthralled. The only other times which are real to me are the ones in which I'm making something.
That's an important thing to note. What is real to us is so much a mater of perception. The fact is that everything in memory is foggy and is somewhat surreal to begin with, but when that sort of patina is draped over the present, one can imagine how disconcerting it would be. My present is like that. If I'm not making something I am in a limbo. I am in a between. There's not a lot I can do about it except to create everywhere. To always be making something new, whether or not I think what I create is going to be of worth. That's one of the changes for me. I can't feel real just by going to a party. I don't automatically feel expansive, I have to induce it.
I can't just be driven by a mood and then go on into the world that way. I have to push myself into these furies of creation to make the world mine. Other wise I don't feel as if I've done anything.
An hour of class often feels like wasted time. The transit between home and school feels like wasted time, and the majority of conversations I have feel like wasted time. One effect of my drug is that I'm less depressive, and tend to be a bit nicer to be around. That shows how drastically unpleasant I must have been. But I still cannot shake this feeling that nigh everything I must do is pointless. I am real when I write, and I am real when I play music that hasn't been played before. I am real when I'm typing this poorly structured essay, because it is the flowing out of something new that keeps me going.
I've long wondered about the value of existence, and the only things that haven't come up short have been writing and music. Everything else is sullied by the fact that we don't know if there is meaning. Everything else is unsure, and may be of no use to anyone in the long run. But Creation.
Gods. I want to write Creation in all caps to make my point, because language isn't even sufficient to explain what I want to say. CREATING is a reason to live. That's all.
I often have felt I hadn't a reason to live. I've often felt the power, as well as the hopelessness, of being alive. I have felt a wide wide range of things, and the one thing that has stuck out to me is that I can keep on living as long as I can create.
That is the only thing that inspires me to continue. When the world has fallen down around me, and I feel this strong desire to drive my hands through some wall, and destroy their ability to play guitar, their ability to write, The only thing that sustains me is this ability to create.
The only reason I don't end up slamming my hands against the wall again and again until they are useless, is because creation is worth living for.
I'm willing to have gone through whatever ills I have gone through in order to create.
I don't know if that will always be the case, but up to now that has been the thing that has kept me alive.
I am still alive because I can create. There isn't another redeeming value to life that I've found yet.
One can argue all they want with that logic, but they will be found short.
creation is my only refuge.