Art is a curse.

'The sleep of reason produces monsters' - Goya

My dear old friend Nick, an artist, rang me today to tell me that one of our friends, another artist, Mike, had died in the past day or so. It was sudden and devastating news.

We thought back to how hard it is to live with art and how hard it is to live with art as the one thing you do, and that loneliness that comes with it. It's the thinking that you don't fit in. The thinking that you should get a real job. It's the feeling of the rush to make art filled sandbags to keep you safe from the flood of 3am stare at the ceiling anxiety. 

It's why I'm not "a writer". Fuck all that. I just type sentences for money. Fuck the novels and poems and plays and songs and whatever the 20 something me thought I deserved to write. I gotta stay on top. Just type for money. Keep it simple, stupid. 

And that's what I do. It's delightfully boring. 

But I still feel the pain of anyone stuck with art. 

It's a curse.

You can't shake it off. 

And I know that dangerous late night loneliness. 

We all do, I'm sure. 

Anyway.

Don't let your friends get lonely. 

Please.

Goodnight Mike.