I've given up every conceivable personal vice in pursuit of better health and an thus an extended shot at the brass ring. Let's list them; 1. cigarettes, 2. alcohol, 3. drugs, 4. ice cream, chicken-fried steak, barbecue ribs etc. etc., and last but not least 4. unavailable women.
What's left? New ones like gambling? Work? Specifically work on art and music? I conclude that this last one is unlikely, maybe. I could see becoming some kind workaholic if there was some huge demand for my work all of a sudden. Which is pretty unlikely, I think.
Dreams of making it big fuel a lot of my projects. Which, I guess, is why I took to music to the extent that I did; it was new ground for me. Once the work is out there and reality sets in, the finished project is almost as useless to me as a cigarette butt or an empty bottle of booze. It has lost all it's power to intoxicate me with its possibility.
I wonder to what extent dreams of making it big fueled Adolf Wolfli and Henry Darger to make their work. Their work has strong escapist, fantasy elements, but did they mean for the outside world to recognize their achievements in their lifetimes?
The other night I had 5 AM daydreams about my band's record breaking big. I guess that once it gets finished and released into the world, it will wind up like the detritus paintings and comic books and old cd's, not to mention my stuff on the web, that litter my personal space like empty beer bottles. I guess that I'd do just as well to enjoy its current power to get me high on dreams. Reality will set in soon enough.
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