Coffee, Black

I’ve decided that I’d rather do without the taste of sugar than use any of the alternatives. They all suck.
Well, that’s it then.
We’re going to black and not looking back.
Splenda is for pussies.

I’ve been having sort of an ongoing discussion with Gene Wolfe about doing things with ‘joyful abandon.’ I think, if I don’t pay attention, I might forget how.

Fearless, happy abandon came so naturally back when I had a rubber skeleton, jumping from the roof of my parent’s house. Jumping with a bucket on my head took things to a whole new level.
It was worth the punishment.
Dessert is for pussies.

I sometimes paint with the same reckless joy I apply to dancing with Orion. Or, in really good moments, I think that way, getting completely lost in the color blue, or ‘seeing’ tonal music as shapes.

Mostly, making art seems to be about discipline. The work requires reason and deeper emotion, experience and skill, tools and knowledge. It requires being aware of cause and effect, and of actions and consequences.

Sometimes the discipline is a matter of keeping at that one thing until I get it right.
Sometimes getting that one thing right is more important than just about anything else. Sometimes that one thing---that light, that paragraph, that step, that angle, that inflection--- will define everything that comes after.
Once in a while, getting it right takes just about everything I’ve got.
Sleep is for pussies.

The real trick is knowing whether the matter calls for keeping at it, or for letting it go. Sometimes the right thing is to just paint a snowflake over it and move on.

There are consequences for choosing keep at it, when I should let it go, and vice versa.

I was told once that it usually takes about ten years to figure this out.
They were right, it does.

Currently, I’m keeping at it, and drinking coffee, black.

g'night