i dream of being a renaissance man but it took me four months until i could refer to my room
as mine and admitting ownership of characteristics and abilities is risking responsibility/personality/potentiality. ‘the’ is much easier to use, there is only certainty and distance.
i thought i hated potentiality but really i just hate the prospect of possible failure.
i dream of being a renaissance man, experiencing james dean living © (drums, sculptures,
poetry, acting) but i am heartless and mindless. i am a woman and i am afraid and i am a fraud. l’art pour l’art seems appealing when worth is measured by originality and exceptionality.
i don’t want to write anything that has been written before. i don’t want to write anything.
i dream of redefining success /for myself/ so that i am not obliged to polymathically excel at
every discipline. when the succulent’s first flower stalk sprouted it died (on my window sill) and grew back eightfold. when i take care of something else i can forget debilitating ambitions and covert epiphanies.
i am better than i am.