That quote doesn’t suit me as much as it previously did. It’s not so much that I’ve reached some kind of potential or that I no longer feel virginal, it’s perhaps that I’m no longer seeking for adventures to fill some hidden space.
I used to worry about my career, but now I don’t like to plan journeys that will ultimately lead to death. I now only lay plans that lead me to food and love. This has led me away from a sense of purpose and change towards a happy kind of love. I feel like I’ve lost something however, an innocent lust of direction, a holy sense of seeking.
I found some old journals that my father wrote when he was a teenager.
What in God’s name is an Artist doing selling Ball Bearings?
To be precise I’m not even selling them, I’m still learning what is what and where what goes. But to what purpose. To just(?) to job in a society that demands for at least modest successes and security. A Secure Artist. God, what next? A. Secure Bum. Why not a secure Artist. And why not a Secure Artist. I know from books of many Artists but none to me seem Secure. Not even Leonardo Da Vinci. And certainly not my friend Goya. Am I a Goya in New World. Or am. A. Gauguin not yet bloomed. God I wish that I only knew.
THE MOON + SIXPENSE
He went on to manage any number of small retail chains in a variety of industries, all the while raising his families, first one then the other. He has not yet become Goya in the New World but I wonder if doing so would have lead to a greater place, or any filled inner space.