I have a hard time getting angry. I feel like I should be angry at many things in this world, but I just ain’t. The best reason I can come up with is that I’m too content. I’m too comfortable. Nothing really bad ever happens to me. I rarely see the “outsiders” of society. I live a very quiet higher middle-class life. Whenever I want to do something, the only thing that’s really stopping me is myself; there are no outer boundaries keeping me boxed in. From time to time I wish there was. I wish I had a harder time living. I wish there was at least some kind of challenge for me to get what I want, to stay alive. I wish there was something to fight against. The only thing I really want to fight against is the not-so-democratic system we have. But how do you fight that? It’s no longer the politicians who control the world. It’s the big business; it’s the lobbying that’s being done by god-knows-who in god-knows-where; it’s the systems themselves that have run wild. I long for the days when a single person could make a change.
I’ve been listening to so much Bob Dylan these last days that it almost hurts. I’m on my way through his entire discography – or the parts I haven’t heard before, at least. Part of the musical education that I keep planning for myself. The library had the box set with his entire collection. I love libraries. That might be something that could get me really wound up, if libraries were given a less role than the one they possess now. I know not everyone use their libraries, but that shouldn’t be to the fault of the libraries but to the people. At least my library has made great improvements and modernizations over the past couple of years to meet the demands of the “modern person”. They have restructured, they have lightened up the place, they have tried to get a hold of a younger audience and started planning events for everyone. Long live the libraries.
My focus should be on my bachelor assignment. But it isn’t. I’m so caught up in making music and reading poetry. I’m always at my most creative when I don’t have time for it. I’m always looking for a way out. When did I ever fully commit to anything? Not in the last year, certainly. Well, I was very dedicated around the time we presented the first issue of our literary journal. Both on the journal itself and on my contributions to it. And I was very concerned with expressing exactly the things I wanted to express in a piece I wrote on freedom of speech in the months after Charlie Hebdo. But that never amounted to anything. Or, it amounted to a nice piece that I still have lying around on my hard drive but didn’t send anywhere.
I am finding it difficult to write poetry these days, though. I don’t really know why. I’ve had a lot of experiences to write from lately, but it sometimes seems to me that I write my best stuff when nothing really happens. Just like I write my saddest stuff when I’m at my most joyous. Maybe I just need to process my experiences some more. I think I need to sleep more; I need to get back to dreaming – to remembering my dreams. I haven’t been doing a good job of that lately. I can’t even remember the last time I dreamed. My clearest memory is of some seriously wicked dream I had half a year ago. I know I’ve been dreaming since then, but they just don’t stick with me like they used to.
Wow. I’ve read that Self Portrait is a bad album, but the first song is amazing. HOW did Dylan suddenly come up with THIS? This is the great thing about going about my task chronologically. Though I do it very fast compared to the people who lived in this time, I sort of get the same feeling of wonder whenever he takes an unexpected turn. God, it just keeps going on and on. This is beautiful. “All the tired horses in the sun, how am I’m supposed to get any riding done?” Beautiful.
I think I’ll just lie back and enjoy this album.