861 it never stops
on creativity and living in the real world
Last year I wrote a lot about being disconnected from music, or feeling rather unmoved by music that I knew I should love. I experienced a loss of identity in my apathy towards art that reached me in a logical but not emotional way; I could appreciate, but not feel. Every year I write a letter to myself, and this year I compared myself to the desert after rain, soaking up greedily but not growing anything. I hoped that I was, like the desert, saving up for the spring.
I like the new year. I buy into it, deciding more than anything else that it’s a fresh start, a romantic time full of possibility. I am fresh and open, ready for change and challenge. This year, I wanted to reinvigorate that creativity I had lost. In my letter, I also wrote to myself that I feared I was living in the “real” world maybe a little too much in 2024, thinking about my future and finances and becoming exhausted by the monotony of daily tasks. Looking for a new job will do that to a person.
Early this year, I started reading a lot of fiction and memoir, and thinking more about the enchantment I used to see in my life. I’m realizing in an effort to be more stable (a noble pursuit, I still think), I’ve been more closed to the emotional transformation art (and the real world, if you’re lucky) can provide. You can see this shift even in the writing on this newsletter: more pieces analyzing trends and fewer about my personal connection to or experience of music.
Music, suddenly, has been vibrant again. The world is sharp, and music adheres to my days like syrup, leaving sweet traces. I made a few playlists last week in quick succession, once again seeing (hearing?) the connections between songs the way I used to. I repeatedly perceive the kinship between the music of Friendship and Jess Williamson, the serious and the silly together at once. I took pictures of the sunset, the moon, the shadow of leaves on my walk. I wrote lyrics down in my journal to save for later, something I haven’t done in years. I’ve also been crying a lot more.
I made a conscious effort to be more grounded in reality in the last few years, because I felt like a little boat tossed around on the stormy waves of myself at times, and because I want to be perceived as a person who can take care of themselves. I took stock of my material conditions, and it was a great exercise in being grateful for everything that went right for me every single day. After a year of relatively peaceful seas, I think I feel ready to be a bit more open again, receiving the world like a gift rather than a burden. That’s the plan, anyways.
Music is a part of that plan, both curating and writing. I saw an affirmation (barf) the other day that read: “I can achieve my wildest creative dreams by going slow and resting often.” I thought a lot at the beginning of this year about what I wanted to cultivate more of in my life in 2025—I want to write more, read more, see more art, make more art. All these things require time and space that I historically haven’t allowed myself, choosing instead to fill that time with activity and productivity. I want to teach myself to root down and wait to see what comes up with water and sun.
Thinking of everyone in LA. Mutual aid resources here.
“I can achieve my wildest creative dreams by going slow and resting often.”
I'm told this is true; I genuinely want to believe this is true; and yet!
"I also wrote to myself that I feared I was living in the “real” world maybe a little too much in 2024, thinking about my future and finances and becoming exhausted by the monotony of daily tasks. Looking for a new job will do that to a person."
Hard relate! Thanks for putting all this into words so nicely. And Happy New Year.