at eternity's gate
So how do you do that? You work, earn money, buy food, a place to stay, and then what? You call that life? I call that hell. I don't want to work, just so i can survive. I don't want to need money. There's plenty of other ways, but they dont seem to find me. I feel like Van Gogh, or Don Quichot, or Jesus. Misunderstood, misplaced. Bad timing?
So what if you dont fit in? Why am i here then? What to do? For 24 years i lived of welfare. A decent life: roof over my head, food, clothing, some pocket money. Not much, no extra's like holidays abroad or drinking cold beverages on a terrace on a sunny afternoon. I did learn to enjoy nature. Its always there, for free, though if you live in the city you do need to travel to get there. So i used to watch people. In crowded places like the market, the library or central station. Like ants, or bees buzzing, busy, always busy. Rushing from place to place. To survive? You call that living? Sounds more like prison.
So why is it, that i'm here. I lost my welfare, left my hometown, went on a journey, now running out of money and thus out of options. Where to go? I want to be of service, but 24 years of doing nothing. Well not much useful in the eyes of corporate society. No relevant work experience. No diplomas, degrees or title. A-levels (Havo), after finishing high-school i tried to become a bio-chemic engineer in Dordrecht, but couldnt keep up. Tried another academy in Delft, no success either. I did get paid, and used most of that money on drugs, and food. Surviving.
So i became a musician. Or at least tried to be. But ive never been good at being good in one thing. So much potential, so many gifts. I could pretty much learn anything in a relative short time. But never to excel. Never got to that point. Fear of failure, so they say. I just got bored and had already found another way, another thing to do, to keep me busy, so i wouldnt get lost in it.
So now i'm losing it. Watching this movie about Vincent. He just got released from the asylum. A place i might end up in as well, soon. Unless this welfare thing works out. So i can perhaps rent a place somewhere. Guess i'd prefer a camping, somewhere close to or in nature. Dont like humans, crowds, cities, they remind me of Mark, who died, alone, in misery, poor fuck!
So here i am, writing this, as if it matters, as if anyone is gonna read this. So many people doing so many wonderful things. Who wants to buy ugly paintings? Who wants to read miserable stories? Would i? I do like a good drama movie. Makes me feel good, to realize i'm not alone. Misery does love company. Though they hardly ever meet. Hahaha.
#15. $82,500,000. Portrait of Dr. Gachet. Up for auction in 1990 and purchased by Japanese businessman Ryoei Saito, this was – at the time- the most expensive painting in the world.
On July 27, 1890, Vincent went out to paint in the morning carrying a loaded pistol and shot himself in the chest, but the bullet did not kill him. He was found bleeding in his room. ... On July 29, 1890, he died in the arms of his brother. He was 37 years old. Poor as fuck
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So what if you dont fit in? Why am i here then? What to do? For 24 years i lived of welfare. A decent life: roof over my head, food, clothing, some pocket money. Not much, no extra's like holidays abroad or drinking cold beverages on a terrace on a sunny afternoon. I did learn to enjoy nature. Its always there, for free, though if you live in the city you do need to travel to get there. So i used to watch people. In crowded places like the market, the library or central station. Like ants, or bees buzzing, busy, always busy. Rushing from place to place. To survive? You call that living? Sounds more like prison.
So why is it, that i'm here. I lost my welfare, left my hometown, went on a journey, now running out of money and thus out of options. Where to go? I want to be of service, but 24 years of doing nothing. Well not much useful in the eyes of corporate society. No relevant work experience. No diplomas, degrees or title. A-levels (Havo), after finishing high-school i tried to become a bio-chemic engineer in Dordrecht, but couldnt keep up. Tried another academy in Delft, no success either. I did get paid, and used most of that money on drugs, and food. Surviving.
So i became a musician. Or at least tried to be. But ive never been good at being good in one thing. So much potential, so many gifts. I could pretty much learn anything in a relative short time. But never to excel. Never got to that point. Fear of failure, so they say. I just got bored and had already found another way, another thing to do, to keep me busy, so i wouldnt get lost in it.
So now i'm losing it. Watching this movie about Vincent. He just got released from the asylum. A place i might end up in as well, soon. Unless this welfare thing works out. So i can perhaps rent a place somewhere. Guess i'd prefer a camping, somewhere close to or in nature. Dont like humans, crowds, cities, they remind me of Mark, who died, alone, in misery, poor fuck!
So here i am, writing this, as if it matters, as if anyone is gonna read this. So many people doing so many wonderful things. Who wants to buy ugly paintings? Who wants to read miserable stories? Would i? I do like a good drama movie. Makes me feel good, to realize i'm not alone. Misery does love company. Though they hardly ever meet. Hahaha.
On July 27, 1890, Vincent went out to paint in the morning carrying a loaded pistol and shot himself in the chest, but the bullet did not kill him. He was found bleeding in his room. ... On July 29, 1890, he died in the arms of his brother. He was 37 years old. Poor as fuck
continues in Dutch
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