In watching a "documentary"/dramatic recreation of Caravaggio's life, I admire his don't-care attitude, amongst my envy for his God-given hand and eye. Although I will never have the balls to live that sort of lifestyle, it's interesting imagining myself in attempting to do so. I feel as though my short-lived Space Mountain moments are the closest I can get and the brief present moments are what allow me to live that life.
WITHOUT FEAR, WITHOUT HOPE
Can one live by such a phrase? Caravaggio did and look where he ended up: in jail half a dozen times, a murderer, seriously loco, and stranded on a beach to die, right before his pardon back into the world.
So perhaps I do like my six hour classes where I get to learn that living in the 21st century won't allow me to paint anything new and revolutionary, and that being an "artist" (though I can't call myself one yet) is probably hopeless.
What's (literally) written in my mouth stands and will always. Without it, there is no point. In anything.