I have felt so strange lately that I thought I might getting dementia. But I think I feel strange because I’m touching reality instead of merely creating metaphors. I am living on the edge of my life without worrying about falling off. I recognize that this is the edge because I have been here before – but only during psychosis. Art made while psychotic doesn’t count in my rule book because it lacks the commitment and engagement of conscious intent.
I know I have made some good work before now – I am a realist and I also have no need to deny the past. But I never thought my mind would make it to the place of dancing fearlessly on the edge. This is marvelous and I am grateful.
I owe. I owe