Mad , Bad and Sad

Its been a very long time since I am debating about writing again a journal, a space of text that can be very simple and very automatic , like my secret journal at my old website ( now down) Club Esther.
Been on crisis for so long and every each time for different reasons all of them correlated and a in a very same way to be conscious of being and of been alive on this context on this times on that past ones and even more ago.
Some how I have the sad suspicion that what's about to be my fate clearly it is consequence of something much more complex and obscure , and it is related with the fact of been female, woman, a girl in the past..
But it is also as well, related with the fact of been an out classed bourgeoise , of been poor, of not been too famous or known on my field , of not been much more than a bit of a cult figure , but very very frail one , almost phantasmatic , and of not belonging to any of the zones that will secure me as a worth wile artist, and then by consequence a worth wile human been it seems...
Yes , I feel extremely sad, and deceived, and have to make a huge effort to not became sour, cynical or a murderer ( why not...)
Living in London, the Victorian Monster City that makes sure that you enter a code of values all set up since Victorian times.. all about morals of success and money and conservative , individualistic behaviour , rations of alcohol , and indifferent people crossing my path, does not matter we can be near, I always encounter indifference. Solitude, fear, depression...
Because here relations are transactional, Marx knew it all... we have to be useful, if beautiful we are useful as a gadget that symbolise wealth and glamour, if you are young the same more or less if you are rich great! if you are old and rich great!! but if you are old, poor, and just attractive..... sorry but its not very good news.
Not for this kind of world, not at all.... this is why I feel like a sort of out dated machine, and more and more often I feel like auto exterminate my self, but my way of doing this is getting drunk and wild and take huge risk like end up maybe at the hands of a Jack the Riper..
I had been thinking so much about his victims and I do think they where all a sort of Junkie of the times ( they where Gin Ladies ) and did the streets to pay for the liquid gear.... Some times I need to drink and forget, some times is too hard.. I need evasion and some times it works.. I am still here in London and not at my home town because in there things are even worst.
But what is success?? and unsuccessfoulness
In the world is just Money... in my field art is money and visibility, been in certain galeries, museums, biennales, collections etc etc.. if this is not the case then one can convince one self that still is relevant of course but its quite possible this will be just a subjective angle only, and the sad truth will be that not, one is not and will never be relevant.