" I'm ready to make days with you...
think about this, I feel so alive..I've never felt like this before..its just you, its all couse of you...don't they know how lucky I am for having you, someone who understand, not everyone has this feeling, even they dont want it, I want it I've wished for it...finally dear...I never write about you,
this is the first time...
How come out of 6 billions people there's someone who can feel just like me, think of love the way I do. We can shop cardigans together...drink our espresso and listening to live jazz.
Its still a mistery now...
I am indeed fortunate...when in fact, we're just so poor, like artist with no manager...like van gough in old times,but I hope we would not end in agony like he did...
I wonder how would you react when you read this,but
this is not a plan"
Yes, I have a man indeed...Let's say he do some kind of artist thing a bit quite my self, but he has a degree to proof it. How lucky...and unlike me, he's a little bit more neat...I would like to say a little bit-more neat, because he actually thinks he's so much more neat than I am, but fact is i found he's not. Just that he doesn't realize it.
Confident, adult, grumpy, fashionably English influenced, also he's into vintage stuff. Loves travel, have high taste of culinary and that's the one thing he always brag about. He always said " you really don't know how to differentiate good and bad food, you cannot enjoy your meal " but however I'm a better writer. OK, enough about it. I don't want to commercialize him.
Meanwhile I was busy fixing my self, he's actually busy looking at his old films taken while he's in London, and back to his laptop where he belongs. Well at least for some period of times. We're both so so poor and try hard to be happy. I think he's better at it.Unlike me, I'm quite a depressed soul like I've mention in my old post ( think i have) It's friday evening and as always we've been making plans for traveling , and it doesn't seems to occur (again) this week. The reason is nonetheless because we are short on cash.
We've been talking about art so much and i know he thinks I don't know much of it. Or indeed, maybe I don't. But my brain is like a sponge slash filter , it will absorb any information that i want to absorb. I did learn a lot about art, and photography from him. I trust him, and i hope i could do at least as good as him in taking pictures sometimes later. We're quite a harsh critics especially when it comes about people who claimed themselves artist when in fact they just use the word 'artist' for money, and admiration.
Once we had an argument after he read me an interview done by Interview Magazine on Tim Burton.
" Well, it’s those things that I always loved. People say, “Monster movies—they’re all fantasy.” Well, fantasy isn’t fantasy—it’s reality if it connects to you. It’s like a dream. You have a nightmare, and it’s got all this crazy imagery, but it’s real. You wake up in a cold sweat, freaking out. That’s completely real. So I always found that those people trying to categorize normal versus abnormal or light versus dark, yada yada, are all missing the point."
I said to him, If those people didn't have a chance to get a recognition from critics , will you trust a single word that comes from them?
(let's say if it was me, but I did not mention it to him at that time, my bad)
As crazy as any artist will sound, will you appreciate what they say if the critics didn't qualify their works?
Then the healthy arguing continued quite long enough until he made this point very clear to me
"True artist would not bother if their work doesn't get a recognition, they will keep doing their work, just because they love to do it, if people only do art just to get a recognition, then they're fake"
I was like "errr, yes" my heart make a squeeky little sound saying "why do i bother so much...?"
Than suddenly i realize that it was all has nothing to do with the art thing whatsoever, and yes true artist would not stop doing their work just because they didn't get any recognition.In the end, i found out that it was all me, I was so hungered by the feeling to be called an artist, I was in greed, maybe at that time what I'm trying to say is this "Ey, I am an artist...give me appreciation" . As painful and embarrassing it is to admit,
"I am dying for recognition" not from anyone, but from him.
Which makes me realize (at that time) that I am not any better than those people I've judged as 'posers' . And seems like I just created my own 'poser' stamp. Big, even bigger in my forehead.
Sometimes it took quite a fight to know how wrong you've been, but at least it's not to late...
Told ya I need to change.
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