Some Art You Can Only Do Alone
There are people who hate being alone—I’m not talking about loneliness, as that can strike even when around tons of people. I mean solitude, which some people can’t stand and others are completely fine with. I’m not talking about solitary confinement—that will push even an avowed hermit over the edge. I mean just being by yourself—there are people who hate that. I’ve never understood that, because there are great things artistically that you can only do alone, art forms that only open up to you when it’s just you there. It’s different for everybody, but here’s how it is for me.
I can write with people around—as long as they’re not looking at the screen, I’m fine. Headphones help too—I like to blast music while I write, such that I can’t hear my own typing. The words feel like they’re flowing out of me in a more liquid way. It’s great if it’s dark too—a room that is mostly dark except for the screen. Great writing environment, that.
I can definitely make movies with people around, as it often takes other people there in order to make a movie. As far as editing, I prefer an environment closer to how I like to write. All this to say, the two main things I do creatively—write and make movies—I don’t need to be alone for. But there is one love of mine that I must be alone for—and no, not masturbation. That I do on the public bus.
Writing and recording music, I can only do alone. The only exception is if I need to record someone else playing or singing something, but the vast majority of it, I need to be alone for. Music makes me into a raw nerve like no other art form—as I receive, I feel like I have no skin. It’s a very uncomfortable thing, the only thing similar being doing live standup. Not my fake standup videos, I mean being on an actual stage and genuinely trying to be funny. But that art form requires people—music requires me, and me channeling on a very emotional level.
I had a breakthrough last night musically—I found a guitar tone I really adored, one that was instantly album-ready. I felt like I was playing an important moment in time—that’s the best I can describe it. I will never forget that moment, of it coming through the axe and my fingers and blasting into my headphones. It sounded so good that I almost forgot I was playing it. I definitely didn’t feel like I was in control of it—it was as though it was some CD I was listening to that I’d never heard before, and was an instant favorite. I was swept up by music I was making for the first time in a very long time.
My girlfriend Chloe has been gone the past few days, and will be gone a bunch more. She’s away on a trip, the first in our six years or so of being together. She’s usually always around, and as such, I haven’t been making music—not that that’s the only reason I haven’t been, but it’s a factor. It’s just not something I can do with her around—it’s too trial-and-error, the mechanics of it, and it’s too vulnerable. Though I miss her, I’m glad she’s gone, as I can do this art that I don’t normally get a chance to do—art that I love as much as I love writing and filmmaking. Gotta take advantage of everything life brings you. Gotta know that nothing dead stays dead—my love of making music sure hasn’t. I look forward to showing you soon what I’ve come up with.
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