July 6th, 2006

amelia coast

I really wanted to write this entry when I was down in LA, but I feel it's almost more fitting after

I feel like so often I get caught up in my own selfish needs: my own basic desire to survive. Every animal, unless severly retarded or chemically imbalanced has that feature programmed into themselves upon conception.

And I feel like I haven't been doing much more than surviving. Going to doctor's appointments, going to school, going to work. Eating because I'm hungry, going somewhere because I need to, talking to people because I'm talked to, not because somewhere in me is sparked a desire to learn and grow and connect. This has all been an overarching theme of the last couple years, not so much on a day to day basis.

Don't get me wrong, I love my life.

I love it so much though that I kind of feel/felt like I was forgetting to use it. Like those fleeting moments in which things are forced to change or grow aren't really appreciated...or even accomplished. You know? Going through the motions.

While I've made art and I've grown, it feels stunted, forced.

And then I watched my dad's new movie. It was amazing. It was about Hubert Selby Jr, who wrote Last Exit to Brooklyn and Requiem for a Dream.

Selby had a fucked up early life full of TB and puncturing his lungs and hospitals and general malady and then went on to use a bunch of drugs and just be a fuck up and then after THAT he reflected on his life and out of all the chaos and destruction managed to write some amazing works. And then became this little buddha man (someone calls him that somewhere in the film).

It just makes me realize a lot of things. How selfish I've been to be concentrating on this so much and not doing much else and just trying to get through school and cancer and not getting the big picture. There are people going through their own personal hells every fucking day and here I am being selfish with mine.

Maybe that's just it. Everyone's selfish in their own little right. I just get caught up so much in what goes wrong in my healing process. All the pokes, all the fuck ups...and here was an amazing man who basically everyone thought was going to die for like 50 years. Over and over again, people thought that he was on his last legs every time they saw him. And he still managed to produce fabulous works (granted, they were still fucked up. But still).

I'm really proud of my dad for the new movie and it makes me want to go out and get all of Selby's work NOW. Maybe I will.