DIY History | Transcribe | Iowa Women’s Lives: Letters and Diaries | Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s

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Eve Drewelowe's journals, volumes II-III, 1950s

Page 208

ends of time. Furthermore I flatly refuse to partake again of the roiled existence that was forced upon me before.
It is always rather interesting to me - although I am the guinea-pig - what the next chapter will reveal. I used to be more eager than now to know how the last chapter will unfold; but now I am perhaps more content to have it wrapped in oblivion. I don't want to know what is ahead. Perhaps I am a little fearful even though I still think my stomach may all right itself eventually.
Insert preceding pg.
The past is dead in any event. Long live the future. A future dedicated to painting and devoted to the interests of my own physical well being, and untorn tranquility. In this case I am the person to be pleased and protected Whether I may ever paint anything of note is relatively unimportant, although that would be gratifying in the extreme and especially fortunate. Temporarily, all that really matters is that life may be lived in accordance with the primary need of the organism, and not as denoted by a society. A social order that is not fundamentally unkindly unsympathetic, but rather inexperienced in knowing and detecting a something which may exist outside itself.
I am after all the person to be pleased; the one who has to live my life. It matters little what anyone else may say or think but to have a belief in myself is a fundamental prerequisite to creating. Furthermore in the name of all creative power it is needful to maintain a spirit of independence of thought and action, I must walk the road of aloneness.

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ends of time. Furthermore I flatly refuse to partake again of the roiled existence that was forced upon me before. It is always rather interesting to me - although I am the guinea-pig - what the next chapter will reveal. I used to be more eager than now to know how the last chapter will unfold; but now I am perhaps more content to have it wrapped in oblivion. I don't want to know what is ahead. Perhaps I am a little fearful even though I still think my stomach may all right itself eventually. Insert preceding pg. The past is dead in any event. Long live the future. A future dedicated to painting and devoted to the interests of my own physical well being, and untorn tranquility. In this case I am the person to be pleased and protected Whether I may ever paint anything of note is relatively unimportant, although that would be gratifying in the extreme and especially fortunate. Temporarily, all that really matters is that life may be lived in accordance with the primary need of the organism, and not as denoted by a society. A social order that is not fundamentally unkindly unsympathetic, but rather inexperienced in knowing and detecting a something which may exist outside itself. I am after all the person to be pleased; the one who has to live my life. It matters little what anyone else may say or think but to have a belief in myself is a fundamental prerequisite to creating. Furthermore in the name of all creative power it is needful to maintain a spirit of independence of thought and action, I must walk the road of aloneness.