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2012-05-06 23:31 2012-01-22 12:04 I stand here before you with a clarity of purpose so transparent, that it falls just short of lead. Of purpose, I find that I am rarely certain, still I am driven, knowing only that these things must be done. It is as innate, and yet unknown to my conscious being, as the red and white cells that populate my blood. "Why art?" they ask, concerned, fearful, dubious. Is it mental illness? Obsession? Is he a pervert? Was he not loved enough by his mother? The answer is as incomprehensible to them, as their question is to me. "Why art?" "Why breathe?" I respond. an answer that is both wholly inadequate and unerringly exact. Art is my breath. Sometimes calm and restorative. More often ragged and and frothed with rage... Or urgent, and hot, and full of lust. But also, sometimes, shallow and forgotten. And if it is withheld, or by some force, taken from me, I fear... No, I know for certain, I will perish. 2012-01-09 12:48 Weird night. Generally, as a side-effect of my ongoing battle with insomnia, I don't dream. Either I'm not asleep long enough to enter a REM state, or the various chemical sleep-solutions put me too deep for dreaming. Last night was a rare exception. As some point, soon after going to bed, I found myself standing by our washer/dryer, looking into the living room. Not a dream-version, but our actual living room. There was a large, man-shaped void, standing in front of the table where Angie likes to make her jewelry. It seemed to be drawing into it what little light there was in the room. I was terrified, and knew immediately that it was a threat. I gathered my nerves and attempted to throw myself at it, with the most aggressive and fierce yell I could muster... only I couldn't move, and just a squeak came out. I woke up holding Angie, still trying to scream. Later, just before my morning alarm went off, I dreamt that I was on a cruise ship in rough, hurricane-like seas, but with bright-blue, cloudless skies. Miles in the distance, I could see an impossibly large, rogue wave bearing down on us. I stood at the railing and watched in horror as the ship's captain made a vain attempt to steer away from the horizon-filling wave. My alarm went off, just as our ship started to roll against the wave's base. Anxiety much? 2012-01-09 11:12 2012-01-05 10:24 I've come to the conclusion that the insane things I do in life, are the only things keeping me sane. 2011-12-22 14:56 2011-12-12 13:01 Calling my artwork 'porn' will not dissuade me, nor will telling me that I'm going to Hell. One argument is irrelevant, the other imaginary. 2011-11-22 15:07 I'm reeling from the shock of losing some recent art projects in a hard drive crash. Ironically, I'm pretty militant about doing backups, but the last month got away from me. Time to come up with an automated solution. I have an SVN server that I use for my programming projects, but I've avoided adding art projects, due to limited storage space. Does anyone want to donate couple of terabyte drives to a heart-sick artist? Or maybe donate a few dollars toward my Backup Drive Fund? (sigh, I hate begging) 2011-08-31 17:38 2011-08-09 23:52 Dearest LiveJournal, Oh, how I've missed you. We used to enjoy each other's company so. But I'm afraid, the world has moved on, and sadly, so have I. It's not your fault; people change, and often they grow apart. I don't want this to be awkward, but I'm seeing other social networks now. Actually, three. I know, I know... you always said I was a slut, and maybe you're right. But I don't think it would be fair to hide it from you. Yes, they're all younger than you... please don't be angry. Their names? Okay, I suppose you have a right to ask... Twitter: @LarryHoldaway Google+: LarryHoldaway Facebook: Larry P. Holdaway I'm sorry it has to end like this, but if you ever want to talk, you know where I'll be... Best regards, Larry |
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