I have a dream. A dream of being a famous artist. or some such equivalent.
I imagine having a love affair with some other famous artist.
I always have that dream in my head.
I am in la-la-land. Being famous and awesome, romancing with a famous and awesome artist.
But I am neither famous nor that awesome. I barely do “art”.
I am always sad about that.
I don’t live in europe on a sailboat. I don’t escape consensual reality.
I am “trapped” by money.
I believe, very strongly that a strong grasp of money, and how it works, is the antithesis of creativity(?). or being wild(?).
I remember being wild(?) or do I remember wanting to be wild?
Thinking, no believing that total kaos was just around the corner.
am I “better” now? is being “happy” what I want or need?
does touching consensual reality keep you boring? err, normal.