Modest Mouse - Bukowski: youtube.com/watch?v=xr_B2IOUYSw
I'm not really the type to rest. I can't relax. I have to do something with my hands at all times if I'm not sleeping. I don't see this as a bad thing, essentially, but it's difficult when I go through periods without income generating work.
I'm dealing with a problem that has no solution: I don't need money to be happy. I do, though, need to have a full stomach and a place to sleep to be happy (or, at least, not go insane), and I'm quite ambitious in my artistic pursuits, will need money to follow through with this. But my artistic pursuits don't generate an income, they barely break me even, so I must find a job. As I do not want to fall into some comfortable, nice job for the money and neglect my artistry I tend to take jobs that I don't necessarily care about, something I can leave in an instant if I need. But as I don't care about these jobs, essentially, I have no drive to find them when I'm low on money. And I don't need money to be happy, ad infinitum.
And then when I'm not working an income generating job I have so much time for artistic endeavors that I run out of things to do. I get through all the projects that excite me and I'm left with reading piles of books and drinking coffee all day. And I love this but my hands get idle and my mind needs rest. And I can't rest.
I've started in on a new Bukowski book because he's an easy read, he's as much rest as I can find. And he unfortunately (fortunately) reinforces my desire to drink and write and despise the futility of undesirable work for the sake of work.
Our worth is not based on our work nor our suffering.
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