One of those days

So, I’ve had one of those days. Waking up at 9, eating breakfast, reading the paper. Pilates at noon, and then off to my favourite parisian café to write. Had my mac in my bagpack, and believe it or not – I was able to work until 5. Days like this doesn’t come around that often. I cherish them with all my heart when they do. I’m even home alone tonight, so I can play the piano and compose all I want. (Oh, shouldn’t have said that, now I almost certainly won’t do it!) A couple of days ago I finished “Just Kids” by Patti Smith. It made me cry. I’ve seldom read about a love so profound between two people (Patti and Robert Mapplethorpe). Also, what struck me about this text is how these two people never ask themselves the question if they really are artists or not. They just are. They just do it. They starv for art, they dedicate their lives to it. I love that kind of enthousiasm, and it makes me question all the doubt I feel about being an artist. Someone who never take themselves seriously as an artist most certainly won’t become one. Talent set aside, if you say “I am an artist, and I want to make art”, doesn’t that in some way make you an artist. You can be successfull or not, but art it is. In my opinion it is. I’ve spent the last mont on the couch staring at the ceiling after loosing my job (yes, that shitty job I hated). It’s terrible to be in that state where you think nothing matters and nothing will ever get better. I didn’t want to sing, and I didn’t want to write. It feels like such a waste of precios time. After spending a couple of weeks in Norway I feel better, and I’m hoping this fall will be a productive one. Still need a job though. Artists need to eat too…


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