the art of dying

finished some new paintings.  and it felt good. 
this one is called Tsunami Tsurvivor. i immediately gave it to my friend jenner 
for helping me cope during that difficult break up with the guy who sent me 
into a post-traumatic stress induced psyche ward visit, involuntarily...

not fun. 
it's always easier to let go on a piece of free foam core or wood that you found 
in the street for free than it is to get all stressed out about how Good it might 
turn out having spent too much money on canvas and shit...

lately, i've realized i'm one of those people that's always late to the party. 
most of the things i become interested in are on their last legs in terms of 
viable options in this ever expanding smart phone world with apps up the ass. 
i have neither. but i still use an slr camera with black and white film when i can 
cuz the magik of light on metal will somehow always mean more to me that the 
digital interpretation of that alchemic dance. 

not that i don't love low light situations 
and the flexibility digital cameras can have at night. they're also good for shooting 
weird pictures in your room at 3am while naked and freaking out about 
what the fuck yer gonna do when the unemployment check runs out....



though i'm still learning the ins and outs of tattooing, i love it already.
whenever a certain mood comes over me, it's the best and most
productively creative cure.

this first attempt is a quote from an Emperor song 
that is one of the most beautiful lines i've ever felt  
toll on my death bell.

there are a lot of other things i could do to myself 
that would be a hell of a lot worse than  
drawing into my skin.

and i can't be all that bad of a tattoo artist 
as it just got included on Word Made Flesh! 
a site for literary tattoos..
makes you wanna read more.

thanks to the recluse for validating my little cold world...


blinded by the blight.

so angry... 
booze and/or drugs don't even soften it up anymore. 
the lies, betrayal, the manipulation, the self-deprecation, etc.
all the wonderful things intimacy brings out in people.
even the few "good" memories just seem like a huge pathetic waste of time now.
oh well. 
i'll make the emotional hail come out in some manner of productiveness,
(as if i had a choice) 

in some volatile burst of creation. 

relationships continue to be the one thing i cannot master.
art and music are so much more fulfilling.
they might be equally disappointing though, when no one notices 
and you hear that voice in your head say,
"all that work for nothing." 
but it's better than being beaten to death by some dickhead 
for absolutely  
no reason.

it's the simple things that keep you in line with yourself.