happy new year! it snowed today. it's the first time in a few years, i think.
the last time snow this thick rested upon the cars and bushes must've been back when i was in high school, so that's a good five or six years ago now.
where we walked, it was all but sludge, and under the cars it had all melted. sand and salt had been thrown around the streets and stairs of public transportation
to avoid any accidents, but even then, the floors remained slippery.
when i say "the snow laid thick", it isn't anything really impressive all things considered. barely a few centimeters, but enough for parisians to panic and
for transportations to be affected. a canadian would scoff at what we call "heavy snow". to them, it must only be some kind of gentle, early october fall, or something of the like.
it's funny how woefully unprepared us parisians are.
today was also my first day back at school, after over two months of break, one month and a half of which having been spent at the psychiatric wing of a public hospital.
i felt really rusty, despite the fact half the time i spent in my room at the ward was spent drawing. i missed class, i missed life drawing sessions, i missed having a proper artistic setting.
a hospital room, no matter what movies or books or what have you tell you, is no place to draw, or paint, or write, even. if it is done in such a space, it is out of desperation, not out of genuine inspiration.
there is no such thing as a "mad artist", or anyone who genuinely enjoys creating only within the confines of a hospital room. at least so i think.
class went by fast, with us reviewing what we had previously viewed with teach six months ago or so. shot composition, overlaps, so on. making the creation of images easy above everything.
by the end of it, the side of my palm and of my fingers was tainted blues from the colored lead of my mechanical pencil. my jaw hurt from my clenched teeth, and as i twisted my wrist around i heard loud bubbles crack around the articulations.
i couldn't help but swear out loud and laugh.
"is your wrist okay?" the teacher asks, smiling.
i answer "yes", still laughing.
i missed this kind of effort, both physical and mental. i yearned for it, even. it felt rejuvenating.
since i've returned from my trip to lucca comics, and right back into the maws of public healthcare institutions for the mentally ill and disabled, i've been struggling to draw pornography again.
it's rather upsetting. not content from passive suicidal ideations and constant reminders to harm myself, i am also removed access to my libido and all the erotic imagery that my mind conjured as comfort and sexual expression,
all from medication that is supposed to make me feel "better", as in "more sociable and approachable to healthcare professionals". i would be lying if i didn't feel a little better, but i still feel like i'm slowly losing a part of myself under this treatment.
drawing porn felt freeing, it felt nice, and from what my peers told me i was good at it. it feels as if i'm losing a quality to the unnamable eldritch monstruosity that is living in a society full of people who'll never understand me, my disability and my mental illness.