Thread by @vincentdonofrio

1) Holy shit I'm fucking useless.
What will i do about my art?
I say to myself.
How can I possibly express my myself better?
Can i?

2) I dramatically say to myself, will I die not knowing the answer to this question?
Should I pretend as others do that they do not question their authenticity?
I tell myself this daily.

3) How in the hell can I handle my next attempt at doing my job better, the next piece better,
the next story?
Will I service that story correctly?
Can I do that in a way that is somewhat original?

4) I will try to contribute to the unfolding of that story with my understanding of it first, my role in it second.
Then third my commitment to the execution of it, which I have decided to put out on the limb.
Oh yes, I have, I do, I will.
I have done.
And failed.

5) I have succeeded in others eyes.
A cup of coffee.
I truly love watching stories unfold.
Watching others attempt to do so.
While watching I can disappear in those stories.
I let them take me.
I want to be taken.
The older I get the more I enjoy the story.

6) Just the story.
Story.
I take notice of the story and what it makes me feel.
I still, after all this time has passed possess the wonderment of a child.
Oh how this is true.
I feel this.
To see what a child looks like when caught up in a yarn.

7) A story whisking them away like a coach and Horses’s.
That is also me.
I recognize this as it’s happening to me.
It’s glorious.
It inspires me to focus more, it leans hard against my heart.
It causes a push into that wild ride, to let that ride just happen.
Oh how it does.

8) Can I always have art in my life.?
Will it be legitimate?
Can I, will I?
Hope.
I hope all of us can feel these things about themselves.
Ourselves.

9) Oh, and these questions about myself can force my eyes to close hard.
Wince.
These mysteries about myself as an artist can force me down hard.
I see the lie-down coming
That sinking feeling of the fact that I may be way off my mark in life.
That I may in fact be lost.

10) I have made a mistake.
What a fool I have been.
I was warned about this.
I told myself many times in fact.
The dark hood of doubt starts to fall over me.
Remember who you are.
Where you came from.
My mind reaching.
Our all powerful minds reach out.

11) Then a thought.
As a gift, it comes to me. and I suddenly see in the far my peers.
The ones I hold dear.
I see them standing not too far away from me.
I shout out to them, hey wait up!
I recognize that they are my tribe.
I am them.
They are me.

12) They are my anchor to this world.
Encouragement.
They remind me of my identity.
They remind me that I am not alone.
That they are also in search of the ultimate question:
What in the hell is really going on with ART.
That notion is my savior.

13) And then I act out a smile, which reminds me of a smile, which I understand is fake, which inspires me to recognize the absurdity in that.
Then I laugh and that laugh dissipates into a smile.
A real smile.
Then I say:
What in the hell will I do about my art?