will i walk from earth into eternity?

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tonight i had a relatively lengthy conversation with henry. he's doing well in japan, thinks he's part asian, and the highlight of the conversation was my hair.
lovely.
i do miss him, regardless of whether or not the only thing we can talk about while he's on the other side of the world is.. my hair.
mmhm.






i'm working on something. a more sculptural work of art. so far the materials include half of a violin, extremely small blown out lightbulbs and a pair of eyeglasses (just the frames) that have been run over by a car.
i'm trying to express the duality of being artistically gifted. not saying that i am, but i think that i'm creative enough to be able to relate somewhat to the nature of the "tortured artist." the generalized stereotype tends to be a frequent truth-- i'm trying to express how being an "artist" can be at once like a blessing, so much so that it seems as if the artist has been elected to share in divine power, and also a maddening in that the artist is inconsolably subject to internal, self-afflicted conflict, instability of the kind that tends to make one even more vulnerable to the hatred that breeds against the self.
i hope that it turns out okay.

















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