I understand why I start to write only when they are unable to do so.
When in the shower, on the street, or as few days ago when publishing via FTP no longer worked and the community of Blogger was in a panic for a minor alteration announced and not yet fully functioning.
I suspect that there is an unconscious component, a strong awareness of the fact that in the end nobody cares what I'm reading, I saw that film at the cinema or what I bought recently, let alone what I think and god forbid something possible evidence.
Basically, no one cares what I write, so do not write.
must be a bit 'the same thing that happened to me when I stopped to photograph. Further back in time to paint, or even more in later years to make collages.
I first did not like what I did, so I stopped to show it to others, and I ended up convincing myself that I did not need to do so.
I was asked why am I not more pictures.
I replied that I do not like the photos that I do. That the resulting image is not what I saw. As the pictures I paint as I have never imagined.
I was given an idiot.
In words very elegant, detailed and speeches, but in essence, that is.
I was asked why I did it, made me feel like, I was reminded as I was well smeared with glue and painting, surrounded by scraps of paper and newspaper pages.
In short, in the end, something must have been shocked by some of my brain, because as you can see I'm writing but do not give it to anyone.
I started making some shots when I'm too perfectionist because I like them, and do not exclude take back even scraps of paper, glue, paints and brushes, though I know I'll say "that crap" every time.
Let me guess, did not even know that sometimes I paint it?
Mbeh, Sticazzi.
When in the shower, on the street, or as few days ago when publishing via FTP no longer worked and the community of Blogger was in a panic for a minor alteration announced and not yet fully functioning.
I suspect that there is an unconscious component, a strong awareness of the fact that in the end nobody cares what I'm reading, I saw that film at the cinema or what I bought recently, let alone what I think and god forbid something possible evidence.
Basically, no one cares what I write, so do not write.
must be a bit 'the same thing that happened to me when I stopped to photograph. Further back in time to paint, or even more in later years to make collages.
I first did not like what I did, so I stopped to show it to others, and I ended up convincing myself that I did not need to do so.
I was asked why am I not more pictures.
I replied that I do not like the photos that I do. That the resulting image is not what I saw. As the pictures I paint as I have never imagined.
I was given an idiot.
In words very elegant, detailed and speeches, but in essence, that is.
I was asked why I did it, made me feel like, I was reminded as I was well smeared with glue and painting, surrounded by scraps of paper and newspaper pages.
In short, in the end, something must have been shocked by some of my brain, because as you can see I'm writing but do not give it to anyone.
I started making some shots when I'm too perfectionist because I like them, and do not exclude take back even scraps of paper, glue, paints and brushes, though I know I'll say "that crap" every time.
Let me guess, did not even know that sometimes I paint it?
Mbeh, Sticazzi.
