Tag Archives: bus

Bus thoughts (on Art)

Posted on by under life, Longer thoughts

What’s the point of anything? I don’t know. But it exists. And we exist. The things around us are what we know,  the sound of the bus, the trees outside the window, that’s reality right now. And I can change that. I sing a song under my breath, and suddenly that’s the sound of the world right now. I can make a sculpture, so that’s what people see. We can change what’s around us, change what this is, and so change who we are. There’s so much space, and art is being intentional when filling it up.

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That’s the only meaning we know.

All we do is gain or lose control

Posted on by under Longer thoughts

I wish I could lose control.

Splash colours until people cry by looking at them,

turn myself inside out and wipe my blood on the canvas.

Instead I give up halfway through ugly eyes, drawn as if I were a pretentious 12 year old. Disproportionate figures and shapes that never become anything. The thing is, I don’t know how to draw. I repeat lines, and colours, look and remake, but when it comes down to my own expression, I’m empty. Just recreate by hands and in mind. Like we all do, are we nothing but radios? We understand something we think no one has understood before and we tell it or teach or live it. And even tuning in to that, the repetitiveness with which people think their minds are free, is just another of those realisations. Is that what I’ll blare about until the day I die?

Sometimes (too rarely) I forget to act normal in public and I sit weirdly curled up on the bus with the bumps shaking my handwriting. It’s slowing down though. Minutes of looking out the window between every sentence. My mad sadness settles into sleepiness. To quote a song that I like: I don’t know if this, is a surrender or a rebel.