wordsforhire

April 17, 1905

Dear Journal,

Today I am filled with joy one could almost describe me as a giddy school boy.  I mustn’t act that way, though, for I am living my life as an adult now.  My bohemian adventures start here in Vienna, Italy, where I will pursue a career in painting.  I love the painted image.  It is, to me, the true perspective one sees.  There are no lies in art.

Though I am currently not ready I intend to apply for a position as a student at the Academy of Fine Arts.  With patience I work to compile a portfolio greater than any at that school has ever seen.

For now I must stop writing for my train should be arriving to take me further into Italy where I will be riding a coach the remainder of the way.

*    *    *

August 23, 1907

Dear Journal,

You wouldn’t believe what I have to tell you now.  I am still in shock…there is a bitter taste of bile in the back of my throat: I have been denied entry into the Academy of Fine Arts.  My years of working and painting and living this life have been for naught.  They informed me, when I questioned their inexcusable rejection, that I would be more suited to architecture than painting.  Architecture!  Bah!  The thought is ludicrous.  Painting is my life and passion.  I cannot do anything if I cannot paint.  Still, this is a blow to my ego I had not expected to ever have to take.  I look at this watercolour and see perfection.  How could they deny me entry into my dreamed profession?  I feel like weeping.  For now, however, I will ju—

The audacity of that man!  I was sitting here in the park writing and this man walks by and tsks me.  From his manner of dress I could tell he was one of the many Orthodox Jews I have come across frequently in my days here.  I couldn’t just sit back and let him look down upon me when he doesn’t even know who I am.  I asked, “Kind sir, what reason have you for sounding so displeased with me when I have done nothing of offense?”  He just kept walking, ignoring my question so I stood before him and asked again.  He just looked at me with judgment in his eyes and replied “’Tis the Sabbath, boy,” and walked away.  The behavior of that man just makes my blood turn to fire!  I have done nothing wrong.

Now I cannot concentrate on anything but the feelings of hatred I am feeling for both that man and the Academy.  Perhaps a whiskey will calm my nerves.

*    *    *

June 12, 1908

Dear Journal,

I have just successfully resubmitted my application to enter the academy.  They are sure to select me for the paintings I produced were astounding!  They were full of emotion, my true emotion.  Perhaps they will see I paint from the heart and soul, that my paintings are deeper than the childish colorings that I have seen many so-called artists have produce.

I received a letter from my mother today.  She says she misses me and wishes I would come home and end my foolish dreams of becoming a painter.  Oh mother, how your words scorn me with lashes sharper than those that I physically received from my father.  I wish you had faith in my dreams or at least in me.  I don’t think I can handle another rejection.

*    *    *

August 22, 1908

Dear Journal,

They denied me once again.  There is no point if I cannot paint.  I am through with living.

*    *    *

April 14, 1920

Dear Journal,

I have found a purpose for living again.  It resides in a party called Nazis.  They are idealists, at the moment, but I know I can bring them to their full potential if I could become their leader.  Right now they just talk big as if their words have power.  I can show them how words can have power.  Words are the most powerful weapon when used correctly.  I have learned to master words and hone them with a poison edge to wield the crowds speechless.  I will turn the idealisms of this party into the real power they desire.

*    *    *

July 14, 1921

Dear Journal,

Today I was appointed the leader of the Nazi regime.  I will show that Academy of Fine Arts with their Jewish professors that I have talent far above what their school could teach.  And that man that dare scoff at me will learn what it means to scoff at Adolf Hitler.