I’m still talking too much. I don’t know if this is ever going to change. What I’d prefer is to use my ears more than my mouth and my fingers more than my tongue. One of the things I dislike most about talking is that most of the time what I’m doing is trying to sell myself. But you see, the thing about that is, actions speak louder than words, and my words are my action. Talking about them only provides people with expectations. It would be better for me in fact to talk about how bad I am so that when people actually see the work I’ve done, they’ll be surprised by how much better I am than what I’ve been telling them.
It’s better for me to be here, on the page, working my words into the form that I’d prefer they be presented as. One should take energy and its conservation into account. I write for a reason. More reasons than one. This is my career. It’s my duty to write. Nobody’s paying me to talk, and if they start doing that, then we’ll have a different conversation. Because those words that I’ll be speaking will be built upon the ones that I’ve written, and I won’t have to go in trying to convince people that I’m doing so great because of this, and here’s another reason that I’m great. No, because when this sort of speaking starts taking place, then my greatness will already have been established. It is a greatness having come from the written words that I’ll be speaking upon. The speaking will then have become another aspect of the career. It will be another part of the presentation. You could call it the saving of face and the building of an image.
It’s got to start now, this method of speaking, in order for it to get to its next stage. I’ve got to be the change that I want to see in this world. I don’t need a stage to be a physical embodiment of my work. I’ve got to make it to make it. This isn’t a sudden revelation. I’ve known it for a long time. That’s why I’m frustrated. It’s difficult embodying a persona. There are animalistic impulses that I’m struggling to get a grip on. My body is resisting incorporating itself into my vision. There’s no secret baptism that suddenly rebirths me. There’s no groove to suddenly click into. It’s a slow methodical merge.