I Myself The Artists

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CHAPTER 1

I MYSELF THE ARTISTS

Tellingly as ever, i myself was standing where the concrete meets the grass near the top of the hill, looking down over the city, and i myself was being an artists.

And then i myself walked down to the mall, where i myself was an artists some more.

Then i myself went over to the bridge, where i myself was an artists, and then i myself went downtown where i myself continued to be an artists.

And it was hard to be an artists and i myself had to suffer to be one. Yet this did not stop me from being an artists, from living my full life as an artists, because it is difficult to be an artists and someone, perhaps, by which i myself mean definitely, has to suffer to be an artists and i myself was strong enough an artists to be the one suffering to be an artists.

Then i myself walked back up the hill, where i myself looked down on everyone again. And i myself knew that there probably wasn’t anyone within a hundred miles who was as pure an artists as I.

And then i myself paced around the hilltop, aware of the concrete then grass then concrete then grass then concrete then grass again beneath my feet, until i myself knew that there undoubtedly wasn’t anyone who was as pure an artists as I myself within a hundred miles.

And then i myself walked down to the river and watched the ducks where i myself was even more of an artists than i myself was before and i myself suffered even more than i myself had before to be an artists.

And i myself knew that it was deemed wrong by conventional society to begin a sentence with and and that by disregarding convention, the rules by which the vast majority live their lives, i myself was showing the world that i myself was a true artists

And i myself looked at everyone with their little lives, which paled beside mine as an artists.

And i myself wondered how they could not know that their little lives were tiny and insignificant next to mine as an artists.

And i myself wondered what they would think if they knew they had such an artists walking among them.

Would they feel better that i myself was there? Or would they feel diminished?

And on my hill, and by the river, and in the mall, and under the bridge, i myself had felt anguish that it was so hard to be an artists, that it was made so difficult by the world for me to be me, the artists.

And it was a very deep anguish that i myself felt in those places and i myself strongly doubted that anyone within a hundred miles felt as true an anguish as I.

For i myself was a true artists, so everything i myself felt was truer than what everyone else felt.

And i myself felt reassured at the truth of my suffering, the purity of my suffering, the truth and purity of my life as an artists, the truth and purity of me, the artists.

And i myself read some Dostoyevsky and i myself cried out to the empty and unanswering sky O Sonia, Sonia, why must you suffer so?

And i myself read some Knut Hamsun, which left me invigorated in my task of being an artists, though i myself did not believe he had suffered as much as i myself to be an artists.

And i myself read some John Fante, though i myself did not believe he had suffered as i myself to be an artists, and i myself didn’t like the way he was so pleased to be an artist and was so unwarrantedly convinced that being an artist made him so different to everyone else.

And i myself wore a beret. And then i myself took it off, for i myself had no desire to follow the conventional rules of society, to wear the uniform of the anguished and suffering

And i myself knew that my experience was privileged, though it was a difficult experience to be experiencing, even for a true and pure artist such as myself .

And i myself felt a need to cry out to the empty and unanswering, O me me why must i myself suffer so, but the sky did not answer and only some joggers looked oddly at me, the artists, in my difference.

So then i myself went over to a there, and i myself was an artists, and i myself sufffered. And then i myself came over here, and i myself was an artists, and i myself suffered. And i myself again thought, it is hard to be an artists and suffer so much anguish. And i myself thought, for how long is this going to go on?

And, tellingly as ever, i myself found myself to be standing where the concrete meets the grass near the top of the hill, looking down over the city, and i myself was being an artists.

And then i myself walked down to the mall where i myself was an artists some more.

Then i myself went over to the bridge, where i myself was an artists, and then i myself went downtown where i myself continued to be an artists.

And it was hard to be an artists and i myself had to suffer to be one. Yet this did not stop me from being an artists, from living my full life as an artists, because it is difficult to be an artists, yet someone has to suffer to be an artists and myself i myself was strong enough an artists to be the one suffering to be an artists.

CHAPTER 2

THE REAL ME.

I …