I just want to lead by example. I just want be a person who goes out and says 'Fuck everything. This is me. You like it. Or you don't. Choose. Bitches'
Well, maybe without the bitches, and a little less gangsta attitude.
Some people will say yes. Some people will say no. I'm cool with either. No artist worth anything is truly loved. It would be nice, but it's not essential at all to what I've got to do. I know people will get it one day. Maybe. Fuck, I hope so. Only time will tell.
I can't convince anyone of anything. All I can do is keep doing the thing I think I was put on earth to do. And that is make groundbreaking art of Warholian proportions, scope and scale in a little niche I've found that ticks the first box in semester 1 of film school - write about what you know. Write about yourself.
And then do stuff. Like making stunning sexy documentary/reality/drama/interviews/visual montages
that many liked minded people can contribute to through their
interactions and reap the benefits of their contribution. But always polite.
Always respectful. Always non-judgmental. And always with their
I am guilty. I have some naked ambition. I want to change some shit about porn and the porn industry.
Damn fucking right I do
(how butch did I just write then??!! )
Now I just gotta back it up. Talk is cheap around my neck of the woods.
committed myself to documenting my thoughts on this journey through
Missyville. I think they are interesting, and would be enlightening to
read at a distance and another time - you know, was it all worth it.
Yes. Or no.
This is me de-constructing me piece by piece, and making very sure there is no collateral damage along the way. This is my shit. I want no one else to be affected or hurt. But I can't control everyone's reaction to me being Missy. This is philosophy, sexuality, music, art, pornography, psychology, drama and humour thrown in a moshpit and something bizarre emerges at the end of the night - and it's all a little bit weird and out of focus until some light shines on it. So I want nothing lost to memory. Because this is brutally real. And really painful.
Writing this giving me the opportunity to document something that I have been trying to grab hold of for a long time. And that is - what could be the worst thing about just being yourself?.
This is it.
The last 24 hours
you know that isn't who you are. When you know to your soul........well.
You just know some shit. About who you have been, and who you are now. And what you're trying to do.
And that feeling of judgment is such a horrible, beautful feeling. Because for so long I did nothing because I feared it so much. Now. Not so much. It just washes over me. Now I know what I've got to do. It is finally clear. Thank christ, after 31 one years, something finally makes sense.
To me anyway.