I had been craving red velvet cake since Friday, when The Bean was all out of their vegan version by 10-something pm that night. The first open coffee shop we saw happened to have it and I was satisfied. Van showed me the Banksy exhibit in the West Village, and then surprised me with my very own bootleg copy of an $800 computer program. Before handing me the disc, he asked, "before I give it to you, you have to tell me—what's your inspiration?"
He asked me if I would categorize myself as an Artist. These were all very interesting questions I had never thought of. I told myself I would consider this later tonight.He talks like an over-excited faucet with a sporadic southern accent and calls me "dude" a lot. I am overwhelmed, but I enjoy it. We talk about art and bullshit art-talk and I'm aware that that is exactly what I'm doing. I don't know art. The word goes through my mind so many times just then it begins to lose meaning. I decide to start over in my head, and I just listen to him being excited about things. I aspire to be excited about things. To me, that is an art in itself. When I get home I find an email from him quoting William Blake: "I must Create a System, or be enslav'd by another Man's. I will not Reason & Compare; my business is to Create."
To be honest, his enthusiasm in general is pretty inspiring. I leave the West Village listening to Billie Holiday and I believe that my capabilities are limitless. I am confident and flattered. I go home and make some decisions about tomorrow. I realize that all my choices are made depending on how much the results will allow me to sleep in.
I aspire to be excited about things once again, no matter how small.