a gap goes by as i spend over 2 years of my life working myself to death.
creating and running "www.clubfashionwhore.com" a fashion show, and club night, not just a website, and i tend to my band "maystar" a little, but not enough ... and i make another "fashion show club" club pop noir ......
i don't write in efforts to be professional.
i feel like i am killing part of my soul.
i work up to 100 hours a week
every week
producing a fashion show every two weeks. sometimes 3 a month. sometimes 4 events a month.
my social life becomes almost non-existent, yet i have the image of a party girl. such a curious thing. people take my shyness and style and mix them together and think "oh she thinks she's so much better than us! the bitch!" but i am still the same person i always was. luckily at least the people who i am close to know who i REALLY am.
life goes by so fast and i am NOT really living. i am working. i am existing like a carpet for other people to dance on.
only a business man could understand. oz behind the curtain pulling the strings. all alone and slightly miserable while everyone else is free to roam.
[dressed "glamorously" for 16 hours a month, working in pajamas on the computer the rest of the month. no one will EVER understand just how much work goes into running a club night or a fashion show, ESPECIALLY starting from scratch.]
i am miserable mostly, but not miserable enough to write anything good [poems].
sure, i write some songs, but i am not happy with the depth of them, and then still other songs, which are too deep, but the lyrics still too shallow for my liking. complex concepts encoded in simplicity.
2 years of my life just wasted, going in the wrong direction.
"oh all the attention!" they say.
yes, and away from MY dreams.
do i still have any dreams?
what are they?
pictures of me from 5, 6 years ago, haunt the internet ....
broken website still here, barely functioning.
i look at all this that i created and then left, and think:
where has all that time gone? what have i done? i have wasted all my youth. i was 19 when i started blogging - where did my life go?!
even when blogging, i was wasting my youth. sitting here, dreaming, behind a screen. i was never alive.
well, not to the extent that i want to be.
now i am lost and i don't know what direction to go in. time is running out. they say i still look 19, but i am 25 now. 25. that sounds so old. i just woke up one day and realized my age.
they say i've done so much with my life, but i feel like it was nothing at all. accomplishments, success. but the wrong dreams. i was running from my dreams, or trying to accomplish them by doing everything backwards.
like a light flashing morris code, i signaled and caught everyone's attention, but it was the wrong code all along.
so with that i say:
hello. i am still alive, but i'm quite sure that no one reads anymore. being gone so long, my hits have dropped from 8,000 people a week down to something i can't even bare to look at.
"write or lose your audience," she said. well it was true.
and i remember thinking that back when i used to write as well. feverishly writing and writing so that when i did have SOMETHING, i would have an audience.
but what was the point of an audience when it wasn't really making any money THEN? what is the point of "fame" if you are barely scraping by?
so i left you, loyal then, but now mostly gone audience.
i left and i worked so hard that my fingers nearly bled, because working online causing carpal tunnel syndrome, while blogging somehow never caused a scratch, well aside from the sleepless nights that would ruin my complexion....
i gained "san diego" fame. which felt more real that the internet fame i had years ago. but in reality, it meant nothing at all. business opportunities to work with people who only wanted to use me in some way or another. i never really gained anything worthwhile from the whole thing. people say i did, but i don't feel like it. maybe when you are in a certain place, it just never feels as good as it looks from the outside.
this is why i had to stop writing. i could destroy myself in a sentence.
but maybe there is nothing left to destroy.
maybe there never was.
maybe all of life is an illusion and things will only ever be as good as you imagine them to be in your head.
and i wonder, what do i do with my life now?
at last i feel a certain degree of freedom from the internet. the club i run right now is finally running off all my 2 years of slave-like work. i'm not attached to a blog anymore, stress is mostly gone.
my band ties me to san diego, to some degree....
but really, in ways, right now i am free.
from college, from everything. i have proved myself to myself. and perhaps the world. now maybe i can focus on my dreams.
but what are they?
what i want shifts day to day ... becoming increasingly unrealistic.
as a child i wanted to be a singer, and actress, a something.... it wasn't about the money or the fame... i didn't even know why at times ... then i developed a love of acting....
but now, from watching movies themselves, i wonder, do i really want to spend my life playing someone else?
i want to be my own person. and for some reason that i can't explain, i want to be remembered. as much as i am anti-human existence, i have always had this in my blood. everything i do seems to tell me that that is what i want. i want to be heard. i don't know why...
in my daydreams, now, i want to be a character from a movie. but in real life. i want to make every moment of my day that includes other people like a scene out of a movie. i've always been this way to some extent, but now i want it even more. control the lighting, control the music, control the aesthetics, control the FEELING?
that is what i have always tried to do with my clubs, and when people come over for drinks....
i want to make magic. i want to live in magic. i don't want normal or average. i am sick of sweatshirts and reality.
we create our own realities, so why not do it *the best* way possible.
and since i already have an image that is nothing like myself at all, i wonder if i should just play into it? take marie antoinette and mix that character with 'factory girl' and 'holly golightly' and lux from the virgin suicides, and just make myself a walking, talking, breathing character...?
it sounds interesting. and on some days i already do that do some small degree.
maybe i just want to LIVE my life instead of slaving away for a career that seems to produce some kind of fame but makes me so tired that there's no hope in even living "that" way ...
and i never really wanted "fame" in the way that people want fame. i only wanted everyone to understand me. but it is too hard to get anyone to understand me, so it almost seems as though it would be interesting to make myself into a reckless party girl. and all the world is a stage....
