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I've been thinking about this lately.
I've come to realize that people don't really know me or love me or like me or hate me. Their emotions are directed at their concept of me, or if you prefer their mental image or their logical construct of me, the me that exists in their head. I notice this a lot in any artistic works I do. What they get out of it as the observer and what I get out of it as the creator is so completely different. What I am trying to convey is so distorted by the difference's between their reality and mine, I wonder what is the point of public self-expression if nobody understands? Is it the hope that someone will listen and hear it or look and see it the same way you do? Or is it to avoid being chastised for artistic masturbation?
I've noticed another thing. People seem to define these golden moments that define who people they know are. There are things in my life that people will refer to me with. That is me to them, in a nutshell. There were photos from one such event, and a friend of mine took some from my brother that were of me to get copies made. To them it seems, that is the Julian they know and love. The one in that picture. But that isn't me. That Julian doesn't exist. The only Julian that exists is the one at this very moment.
But people aren't existed in the present existent julian, they are more interested in the Julian who played that show that one time and made a lot of noise, or the julian who said that funny thing one time.
An ex-girlfriend of mine kept a picture of me from that very same event. She was deeply infatuated with that concept of me, the me in that picture, the concept of this long-haired rock and roll loving good natured gentle spirit. Not me. So I eventually broke up with her.
Can you truly know someone? Would you want someone to really know you? It seems kind of scary, having your very soul exposed to someone like that.
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