Here I am
Ok. So I’m inspired. I am inspired. Sometimes I worry I am being inspired by all the wrong people. By egotistical “artists” who are just looking to survive by inspiring others to do the same. Just this constant loop of inspiration to “create”. Ugh. I hate that word. “Create”. The most pretentious “artists” use that word so that they can refer to themselves as a creator, or so that they can refer to anything they do as a creation. NO. Immediately reminded of ____.
Anyway. I am inspired. By this lovely lady on YouTube, kinda the same way I was inspired by Shannon back in 2010. Now, two years later, another girl has inspired me. Her name: Maya. She is starting a “One Year ‘Shameless’ Challenge” where she is trying to promote herself. Day by day, week by week, she is updating us on her self-promotion and it is really genius! Really!
Year by year, I watch people become internet celebs, and I have charm and talent and wit and I do NOT like standing in the sidelines. Especially when I believe that I have something this human culture LACKS. And I want to succeed. I do. So I want to join her. I’d really love to join her.
Not to be famous. OH GOD NO. I do not want a single soul that cannot help me succeed to be bothered by my existence. I just want to be successful. I want to travel. I want to meet people IN REAL LIFE that are inspirational, witty, interesting, and artistic. I want to make a good life for Sophie and I and all of the people around us. Full of color. I want to defeat the introvert in me! I want to be extroverted but ALSO, I want to KEEP IT REAL. Just because I want to self-promote myself DOES NOT mean I’m going to listen to Pop music and have bad taste in fashion and art. NOPE. I don’t want to be mainstream. But I still want to be successful. DO I HAVE AN AUDIENCE? DO I?
Journaling outside. Something I CAN do.
Returning to the pillow of nights without sleep. Dreaming of a love I never will keep.
I was at a hipster party in San Francisco. College students with political or nude posters around the house. They’re all art/ film majors. Sweaters, glasses, beards, tumblr, and irony. Hipsters love irony. There was a nerdy looking guy on the couch playing ironic music on his lap top. He was taking ironic requests. Like hipster modest looking girls who request ignorant misogynist rap songs. Or clean-cut white guys who request trap music, or gangster rap. Or songs from the 90’s. Hipsters love songs from the 90’s. But not the big hits from the 90’s. It has to be equally as corny but slightly less famous. Hipsters love that shit. So as I’m sitting there, I wonder if it would be too cliche and not ironic enough, if I, one of two black girls in the house, to request Ring the Alarm by Beyonce. I really like that song sometimes. I realize that would be hipster party foul, so I consider requesting a song from MGMT, but a really old one from back when they still had the vowels in their name, Management. Yeah, I figure thats just underground enough for them. Or maybe a song from the 60’s, no I don’t know any of those.
So anyway, the ironic hipster party ended up to be pretty enjoyable as the night proceeded. This young woman walked in dressed like she was straight from the 1920’s. She had red lipstick and a black wool hat. She had lace tights and a black dress. She was beautiful to me, and she kept complimenting me. She liked my eyes and my body. I didn’t mind at all, she was the highlight of the night for me. Her and I went outside and shared a Native Spirit cigarette and a Miller High Life 40 oz. I took a few hits out of a bong about an hour earlier in the garage with a few hipsters so I was beautifully cross faded. The moon was full and the weather was perfect for the October night. I never remembered her name but she was refreshingly not too hipster
It wasn’t even so much about the romance, even though its the first and only movie that actually caused me to burst in random tears recalling an old love. It was also about the dialogue. They covered so many topics in their conversations. From love to death to politics… and it flew by so well. For me, a lover of observation, there was so much to observe. And then, the lovely sequel! Before Sunset. What an amazing sequel. I enjoy this sequel more than Russian Dolls to the Spanish Apartment. So subtle, I couldn’t believe two hours had passed. It was as if it was in real time! Perfect. So happy I watched both of these films. :)
