I am going to be honest. I don’t think I’m a writer. I think I am a quiet person who finds it much easier to communicate myself through ink on paper/screen. In actual life if you knew me, I often go 48-72 hours without actually speaking to another human. And I find it deeply rewarding to spend my time with myself.
I think its not truly fair to call myself a writer. But there’s really no other way I can do this without making it seem like a total waste of time. Even though that’s exactly what it is. And I don’t even ever feel guilty about it. What is there to utilise time for? I choose how to waste my time. You can call it whatever you like. I don’t earn money doing it, so maybe its not professional. I don’t think I even know what I actually get paid for sometimes. But I practice my imperfect art and it makes me happy. So I do keep doing it. Give me something broken and dirty. Perfection is overrated.
The internet has become boring. It used to be an exciting way to discover lives I can’t live but it more or less now feels so well curated and frankly unreal. There’s little truth to it. There’s very little honesty. As if we don’t already know everything is fucked to hell. What are we pretending for? There’s deep pain and fear in each of our lives and there’s a heaviness we all have to bear. But the internet used to be a place where we could share this shit and get some jovial kicks out of it. It was a playground. Rough but fun. I grew up on the internet no shit. Now it seems like more of the same. Even the ideas are all the same. And this crazy pattern of similarity is starting to bore the fuck out of me. Let’s shake shit up and make a little ruckus. Let’s dare ourselves to be completely a mess gloriously in public. This life is a shit show and everyone is welcome to watch!
I draw and write stuff because it calms me. I used to randomly draw things I was hearing or seeing when I needed to feel calm. And I couldn’t do it for a long time.
Its a dumbass process where I just hum along to whatever music and stare at shit around me. Sometimes it comes out in something legible. A lot of the times its literally just a blackened out page with a cross. I scan it, run the photograph through a negative filter and post it. A negative filter is basically an equation created in Matlab which converts the colour spectrum into its colour negative. Its pretty simple too. I don’t know the equation now. I think I did at some point of time in my life. I couldn’t care for it at all now. Some things you know, some things you don’t know, most things you can’t remember. Significance is if it matters. It literally does not matter if I know the fucking equation because I enjoy this. And I hope you can too.