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Article #331 (Lost Journal Entry )

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  • Mathew Morrell
    Probably the only reason I would have for indulging in large amounts of drugs and alcohol is if I was cresting as an artist, and felt that I needed an X
    Message 1 of 1 , May 18 9:17 PM
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      Probably the only reason I would have for indulging in large amounts of drugs and alcohol is if I was cresting as an artist, and felt that I needed an "X factor", a little push from behind, to advance my art work beyond mediocrity into the artistic spheres of genius.

      Then I would consider it, knowing full well that the blessings of drugs are short lived. After a while drugs don't assist in clairvoyance; moreover the type of clairvoyance they do provide is backward and atavistic.  They only worked what, 3 years with Jimi?  Absinthe and booze took Hemmingway through one decade, perhaps.  Most of the time, the blessings are pathetically small—a poem if you're lucky ("The Flight of Icarus").  And the fall from artistic genius, back to mediocrity, is soul-destroyingly painful.  Jimmy Page, Bob Dylan, Tony Illomi—none of them have come back yet.  They're still dead.  They're still morons.  They're still geniuses.    

      Nonetheless, I would do it—I think.  I think I'd do it if I was a talented artist and I thought drugs would take me to the next artistic level.

      The sober life is worth living, don't get me wrong.  My life is based on discipline and mental clarity, right now.  I love the clean life.  

      But I would make a pact with Satan himself, for just a little bit of Hemmingway's gift.  I would sell my soul at the crossroads to Lucifer in return for the power to write something as eloquent as Powyse's "Glastonbury Romance" or to compose an album as poignant and savage as Cobain's "Bleach."

      For just a morsel of artistic genius I would slow burn my brain and nervous system with an endless supply of heroin, dope, pot, brandy and rum---until I achieved my goal:  a great novel, a great film script, a great CD, a great canvas.    

      Lucifer, Ahriman, Beelzebub, Jehovah, Christ, anyone—if you can make me into a writer or a musician—here  I am.  Possess me.  Use me.  Kill me.  Burry Me.   

        

      Billy Bayber
      The Kansas City Art Institute

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