Today’s Prompt: Write a post based on the contrast between two things — whether people, objects, emotions, places, or something else.
Today’s twist: write your post in the form of a dialogue.
I just saw a movie about Multiple Personalities, (Frankie and Alice, 2010), so it sort of got me going… Everyone feels kind of crazy dealing with the people inside them now and then…
My Current Problem, Solved by a sort of fight:
Me: I don’t know what I want to do anymore. I like drawing. I like sewing. I can find art made by other people I want to copy, but I can’t seem to find what I want to do. This never happened before.
Art: Fuck you. You’re a fucking artist. Stop making lame excuses. It’s not about words. It’s about doing it. Remember what DeCredico said, “Drawing is making marks on paper.”
Me: I can’t find something. I usually find some kind of world that I control. It first finds me, then it tells me what I can use and what the limits are, the conditions, but it’s not a cage; usually it frees me to follow it, and it makes sense without any explanations. There’s a direction to go in, particular materials to use, sometimes very few, just black pen and paper, other times, lots of different materials that get put together. It’s like finding a recipe, but you don’t have to follow it exactly. You can’t mess it up or burn it because it’s not food.”
Art: that sounds like a bunch of bullshit. You just pick up whatever is nearby and handy and do something. It’s actions, not reactions. You’re not in control. What kidn of hypocrite you are. You help people make messes but you fight your own mess. You tell people to be nice to themselves but you’re kind of an asshole. No wonder she doesn’t know what to do. Let her figure it out.
ME: but who’s her. Who is she? ISn’t she me?
Art: she’s the you that you’re trapping up and locking up. Stop caging her. You’re the one who’s acting crazy. She just wants to make stuff. She doesn’t care what it is and she likes it because it’s there. You wouldn’t have a baby and then try to put it back! You’re fucked up. Get the fuck out of her way. You’re standing in the way. She needs to get through.
Me: I think I lost something I had all these years. I don’t trust anymore.
Art: Well stop wasting time. You’re going to die just like everyone else. You don’t really know when. Get the hell out of her way. You’re going to strangle her. She can’t breathe. You’re blocking the light. She can’t see. She’ll draw anyway even in the dark. Stop taking stuff from her. Just leave her alone. Shut up. You’re making too much noise. She can’t focus with all your words and noise. And stop choking her. Just shut the fuck up already, asshole! Usually you leave her alone. I don’t know or care why you’re taking up so much space and blocking her light and pushing her under a table. Just go away. She can draw under the table. She can draw in the corner. She just needs you to get out.
Me: Ok. I guess I’m not wanted here. I’m leaving. Goodbye.
Art: Good. Now she’s free to come out. It’s ok. She’s gone. She was crazy and it was smart of you to hide, but I got her out of here. She can’t do anything to you now. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re ok. Here’s some stuff. Go ahead. Make anything you want…
Her: Ok. Thank you. I will.