Lost Illusions

I suppose my current state of mind has something to do with the fact that I don't fall asleep before five o'clock every morning.

I watched a movie tonight. It was called Lymeville. With Alec Baldwin. It was good.

There are a number of things I could be doing right now. I always seem to have a list of things to do.

I'm like you, I have artistic ambitions. I have a novel I would like to get back into.

It's sad that I can't make a messy blog post. That's what this blog is for, my messier self. I allow myself to be messy here. I almost never allow myself to be messy.

You will find a general trend in all my writing. I'm not bragging when I say my writing is perfect, but it takes me great pains to make it that way. Here, I am not trying to be perfect, and that in itself, is a relief.

So much of my life has to be perfect. Even my experiences, my meals, my relationships . . .

I'm thirty years old. I seriously feel like I'm becoming an adult for the first time in my life. And that's a strange feeling.

There are so many illusions when we are younger, and not even younger, just a few years ago I was clinging to my illusions about life.

What's there to look forward to when you've given up your illusions?

Nothing bad for me satisfies me anymore. I used to heap all my illusions onto drugs and a manic state of mind. Thinking I could live in some fantasy world with my passions, with my creativity.

One by one, those illusions have been pierced.

We chase after things, and then when we finally have them we discover, well, we discover the pain of having them. And in this way illusions are broken down into vivid realities, into realizations about life, about self, and those around you.

The movie was depressing. But life is depressing. We can't escape that no matter how hard we try.

While I was watching the movie, I got in touch with one of my deepest, most elemental feelings--loneliness. It's true that I've always felt lonely, my whole life, I never seemed to "have" anyone. It was always me. By myself. And that's the way it was ever since I was a child. Always looking out--wondering why I was alone.

Until my loneliness and my aloneness became such a matter of fact that I accepted it. And throughout the course of my life, I took drugs to feel less alone.

But after awhile things which used to make ourselves feel better only make us feel worse.

Lost illusions.

What is it that we're after? I mean we already know that money complicates things, and fame can make you miserable.

Love was never something I actively pursued. I still wonder whether it lasts. Nothing lasts. Why should love?

Art. There's always art. And for a long time, I've heaped my illusions on art. Art is really how I cope with all of this. But lately I've been thinking that there's no final redemption in art either. You just create art and that's that.

As writers and artists, however, we're always looking into the future. We're thinking about our next big project. And it has to be perfect. Everything I do has to be perfect, which is why I'm writing this here tonight--to allow myself to just be.

I'm sick of shaping my thoughts into essays; I'm sick of chiseling my sentences. I just want to have the freedom to write what is on my mind.

Who are we trying to be? Who? That's what I want to know . . .

I want to know who I am, under the agony of this mechanical, programatic self--

Who is spontaneous me? Who is a surprise?

I can discover this person through writing, but not the kind of writing I'm accustomed to, that is, impressing people.

Sometimes experiences aren't complete yet. Sometimes you just got to accept that things are going to be left undone.

Wow. I just realized how pointless all of my stupid desires are. Desires like wanting to be famous. Like wanting recognition and the desire to be wealthy. Everyone wants these things. I'm not unique.

Once you stop desiring these things, well, life becomes pretty straight-forward. But also slightly boring. You have nothing to anticipate, no hopes, no illusions . . .

I simply cannot cling to the same illusions I've held onto for my entire life. I can see through them.

But without them, I'm even more lonely, I'm not any happier, perhaps less happy.

What's to life? Could this be all? After your illusions are pierced, you're left with the remainder of your life. What will I do with the remainder of my life knowing what I know now?