My friend is releasing her first book this fall. It’s a young adult book. She has already signed a contract for her next book, which I’ve read, and it’s rather fabulous.
My ex just won a short-story competition in his home country.
Another friend is touring all the big cities and festivals in Europe. She is immensely talented, beautiful, and comes through as a very intelligent woman in most interviews.
Yet another friend received a price last year for his contribution to the local musical life. He’s been making records for the last decade, and is becoming more and more interesting musically.
Bat for Lashes is fantastic. The song-writing is fabulous, she looks great on stage, and can put on a good show. Her band is great. I want to steal her drummer away from her, and never give him back.
I don’t feel jealousy, ever. I don’t have that in me. It doesn’t have anything to do with that. I just don’t know where I belong in this world of talented individuals. The fact that I want to express myself doesn’t mean that anything I do is interesting to other people. Is what I do interesting? Is it good? Is there hope? If not, why keep doing it?
I have known for a long time what my biggest problem is. I don’t like myself very much, and cannot imagine that other people do either. Then how am I suppose to ever be able to produce anything of value? If you don’t think you are anything of value, then how can you make anything of value?
What about the others? Do they like themselves? Do they have an image of themselves as being individuals of value and importance? Is that why they dare show themselves on the stage, in public, in the paper, on records, by writing books?
I don’t know. I don’t know.
I feel old, washed up and tired, but I still have passion. I still feel love. I still feel things deeply, so there must be some hope. Also, I have to stop watching the others.
God, I wish I could create a space around me to get rid of all the noise.
I see myself in a transparent ball shutting out everything exterior.
There would be a hatch, so that someone could bring me books and food.
There would be cables coming in, so that I could listen to music.
There would be a piano, a guitar and loads of sheet music.
There would be pens and pencils, rubbers and pencil sharpeners.
It should be easy to get in and out, so that you could go to the bathroom when you needed to.
And there should be loads of tea stacked up there.
It’s a nice image. I’m keeping it in my thoughts for a while, and try to not destroy it with any negativity.