end my era. im truly a slacker. maybe im just depressed. its more not caring mixed with more not caring.. although i guess that mostly applies to school which i feel has fucked me sideways twice. i hate going there. i never wrote about it here because i dont know.. because i think about what happens to me too much. i talk to myself and dont write.. which solves things for that half hour, or that train ride but not completely. little bits of shit that happened stick inside and keep cropping up.. ugh. last monday the one before this one.. the second day of painting class.. i went to my studio space to find all my artwork gone. not a trace of any of it anywhere.. i started searching around.. i started asking people.. i started to die inside. all my supplies were there but all the art was gone. close to a year of art.. because no one takes shit home.. you leave it in your studio and build on it and live with it.. and so the studio manager comes in and tells me she knows where it is.. and yeah. its in the trash. its in the dirty compactor dumpster. some half minded janitor who has no right working in an art school saw the pile of my stuff and deemed it trash and threw it all away. less than an hour before i got there. my teacher and some kids in my class all went out to the dock where the compactor is.. and a kid jumped in and pulled out some pieces of my work.. but 95% of it is on paper.. so yeah. its dirty and fucked up and compactored. and i stood there and cried like a stupid girl.. because i didnt know what else to do.. because thats my art.. thats fucking it. thats moments and feelings and ideas that cant be redone.. or refelt. and it was cold out and it was ironic.. because i brought my digital camera that day to school to take pictures of all that stuff.. blah. its over heather.. get the fuck over it. thats what my teacher thinks.. and more or less told me this monday as i sat in my studio not really knowing where to start.. or knowing what i felt about anything anymore.. and what the hell is important? if my work was a pile of canvases no one would have moved it. that pisses me off. but i guess thats why i liked paper.. because you could destroy it so easily.. and rip it and ..i guess it all comes full circle or something and im left with pieces of dirty paper and memories of things that will never exist again. * i skipped my wednesday painting class.. and i went to school today to find my class cancelled.. and i wasnt waiting 4 hours till my next class.. and i wasnt going to the studio.. because the thought of it made me sick inside. so i went home.. and i keep playing this song over and over and i stood there waiting for the train staring at school.. waiting to go.. and it hit me. ideas hit me.. and they werent about losing my work.. or trust.. they were new things. new directions.. and by the time i got to the station i had pages of ideas and thoughts.. and i felt ok for a minute.. missing school was justified if for nothing but those thoughts.
Who's in a bunker? |