Wallis is gone

I dropped Wallis off at the airport this morning. For our last day together yesterday, we went to the LaBagh Woods, rode the Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier, and walked through Millenium Park. I’m gonna miss her a lot. Writing this short blog post will probably be the most active I get all day today.

Here’s a picture from the ferris wheel.

I Have Borderline Personality Disorder and I Accept Credit and Debit

“I Have Borderline Personality Disorder and I Accept Credit and Debit.” 9/26/14. Ink. 40×32″.

You could call this piece the second in a series of three, detailing my second “romantic entanglement” in Chicago last year. The caption/title of the piece is (obviously) an acknowledgment of the way I’ve commercialized my “disease.” The text scattered throughout this piece is a pretty good document of that disease. It was all written as the piece was created (between August 15th and September 26th, 2014) and is as follows:

AAAANNNNNDDD – emotional attachment severed in 5… 4… 3… 2… gone.
And I don’t give a fuck about anyone.
Good thing I told Spillane earlier how much this girl likes me – and how (obviously) that means I need to be cutting it off soon. By nonchalantly bailing on our (admittedly) tentative (but – as of an hour ago – confirmed) plans for tonight, she’s given me all the cause I need.
Except I know she’s gonna materialize by my side tomorrow when I’m downtown working on this piece and selling prints.
So we’ll see how the fuck THAT pans out. Or – fuck it – maybe she won’t and maybe we won’t.
Did I mention that I don’t give a fuck? ‘Cause I really wanna stress that point. Does it sound like I’m trying really hard to prove it. If not to you, then to me?
Whatever. (Forever).
If I were feeling mean (and I am), I’d say: “That ‘love letter’ I wrote you is nothing but another product for my inventory. You’re just a couple pages in a chapter in my story. A subplot, a side story, a tangent.”
ON/OFF. ON/OFF. I still keep my feelings wired to a light switch. And I don’t care anymore.

Oh – wait – new day. Don’t care about any of that nonsense yesterday. Switch back on! I’m “in love” again!

Ink requires so much more precision than paint. I’m having a hard time finishing this drawing without my Adderall, which the police took, as evidence, the other night. A little over a year ago, I got out of Tranquil Shores and turned myself in for an outstanding warrant. As I sat in jail, I remember thinking, “This is the last time I’ll ever have to do this.” And now I’m facing charges again. FELONY charges. Felony DRUG charges. For my fucking Adderall. I need to get my shit together for my case. Letters from doctors, counselors, Tranquil Shores – to prove that I’m not some kid abusing this stuff – I just happened to let my prescription lapse (irresponsibly, I know). But that’s hard to do [manage my prescriptions in new cities] without my Adderall. Everything is. Everything is more difficult. And I’m overwhelmed. I can do it. Call a lawyer, call the doctors, get my suit shipped up here from Florida.
It doesn’t sound like much but the anxiety of it all has me almost to panic mode. I want to shut down, block it all out, and just leave the state [of Illinois]. If this had happened in Kansas or Oklahoma, I’d just never go back. But it was on this side of the Illinois line. I hate it. This court doesn’t care about me. The judge, the prosecutors, the system. None of them care. I hate it so much. It’s cold and mean and awful and it makes me wanna give up.
Two Saturdays ago, I got invited to two parties. I invited Nicole to go with me to both. I went to pick her up, anxiety set in, I told her to forget it, and I went out to my car to… I wasn’t sure. She sent a text: “Are you okay? What are you doing?” I was online, researching dope spots in Chicago so I could go cop. I told her ‘cause she’s twenty, might not understand how serious that is, might be naive enough and like me enough to just want to do it with me. But she knew better. She stopped me. Saved me from myself. Not that I didn’t put up a fight. She cried. I felt terrible. It was a mess. But she stuck it out. She really cares. That’s scary. We’re still seeing each other. That’s scary. I’m [this] close to referring to her as my girlfriend. If I were a better person, I’d probably break it off with her and stop getting involved with girls. IT ALWAYS ENDS THE SAME. Or maybe I should quit playing fortune teller, just live life, and let what happens happen.

OUT OF ADDERALL PROBLEMS: Meanwhile, I won’t shower or even get dressed until I have clean socks to put on. But I won’t have that until I go to the laundromat and I can’t go to the laundromat unless I get dressed and I can’t do that until I have clean socks to put on.

We’ve been seeing each other for six weeks. Became “boyfriend/girlfriend-official” last week. I haven’t put it on Facebook because I guess I just figure it won’t last. We got into an argument this morning. I started repeating “idon’tcareidon’tcareidon’tcare,” she goes “and you don’t care about me so FUCK OFF,” and then she hung up. (I think – I did anyway). I think that’s it. I think we’re done now. I talked to my south Florida girl last night. It was great except she sounded high but assured me she wasn’t. She invited me to come stay with her when I go back down there. If she’s clean, that’d be great! She called again this morning, moments after hanging up with my girlfriend. It turns out she is getting high and everything’s a mess.
I’m stuck in Illinois on bail. Mike and I butt heads. I don’t feel secure here. I’m always walking on eggshells. My relationship with Nicole is dicey if not over. I’m ready to get the fuck out and go somewhere new. Sometimes I feel like I’m floating – for what? Is it about art? A career? Or do I do it all for girls, sex, love? Is it for myself – ego, fulfillment, ACTUALIZATION? What am I looking for? What am I after?
UGH – WHO THE FUCK CARES???
Oh – WAIT – SHE JUST TEXTED ME. We’re still cool. (Or cool again). Game on. I feel better, I guess.

Don’t let the fact that I usually sleep indoors fool you. I might be charming but no place feels safe. This is what it means to be really homeless. I’m reinventing homelessness. And I do technically live in a minivan. If you did, your art would have unintentional creases and pressure spots too.

Depression, isolation, giving up…
I started this piece over a month ago. My life was different then. It’s gotten worse. My faith’s been shaken. I’m so sad. It’s cold outside. I don’t wanna kill myself…

The first piece in this series was “Love Letter;” the third is “The Last Unfinished Work.”

Divine intervention and Milwaukee

Last week, Wallis and I got into an argument. It was nothing serious and we resolved it pretty quickly but it prompted us to consider parting ways. After all, life on the road is one thing for me but – for Wallis – it can kind of feel like putting “real life” on hold. She doesn’t have to work or deal with any kind of responsibility or – you know – anything. She’s kind of just along for the ride. So after traveling together for five months, it felt like maybe it was time for her to return home to Jacksonville and face off against reality and see if she can stay clean without me as a twenty-four hour baby sitter.

On Friday, I bought her a plane ticket for Monday afternoon (today). That’d give us a few more days to spend together, which is something we both wanted.

Over the course of these last few days, we’ve talked a lot about whether this is what we both really wanted. And it seems like our heads were pretty much in exactly the same place. We didn’t wanna let go of one another but agreed that it was probably time. Our feelings said “no” but we felt that, logically, this was the right move. Even still, I’ve felt sick to my stomach all day.

Just now, I took out my phone to check the flight information ’cause it’s time to go to the airport. I had a new email in my inbox: “Status change from Southwest Airlines. Your flight has been cancelled.”
There doesn’t seem to be any inclement weather anywhere between here and Jacksonville. I don’t know why the flight was cancelled but… it makes sense. It just sort of does. I don’t know where we go or what we do from here but… I guess we’ll figure that out.

On an unrelated/here’s-a-picture note, Wallis took this photo of me taking a break from painting (to brush my teeth) one night in the Iowa City downtown pedmall last week.


Okay, off to Milwaukee for Dummerfest.

6/2015 progress report

OKAY – SO… A lot’s been going on. Legally and art-wise. Let’s get the bad news out of the way.

The prosecution in my case was, at one point, offering a deal that would keep the felony off my record so long as I satisfactorily completed two years of probation. Before accepting that offer, my lawyer filed a motion (on my behalf) to suppress the evidence against me (which, had it been successful, would have meant there was no case against me and the charges would have to be dropped). That motion failed and now the prosecution has revoked their earlier offer. At this point, the best they’re willing to give me is my choice of two years probation or thirty days in jail but – regardless of which I choose – the felony will be on my record. Which would be problematic should I ever get caught up in a similarly silly kind of situation or if I ever want to use my degree and practice law. My next court date is July 1st and I’m hoping that, with the additional letters and documents I’m submitting, the prosecution will reconsider and let me take the earlier deal.

In similarly bad news, I’m currently in Chicago and had been planning on setting up to paint and sell prints downtown each day when the weather is nice, just as I did here last summer. Today, however, a cop told me to pack my stuff up and threatened to take me to jail if I didn’t. This despite the fact that it’s the same exact spot I used more than fifty days last year without any cops ever doing anything more than stopping to look at my art. Print sales are a significant chunk of my income and nowhere have I ever done better than downtown Chicago in the summer. So losing my spot here is a pretty big deal.

Luckily, I’ve still got Vito at MP Shows who lets me set up at night at the venues hosting his events. It’s nowhere near as profitable but it should at least keep me afloat and I’m super grateful that he’s been so accommodating. Here’s a picture of me drawing at the Worriers show the other night. 


In better, brighter news, after I got kicked out of my spot downtown, I spent the day meeting with galleries in Chicago and it went pretty well. Ann Nathan will be exhibiting one of my paintings, I’m in the process of scheduling a solo exhibition at Dreambox Gallery (to begin later this summer), and am in talks with several other galleries (both in Chicago and elsewhere) regarding potential exhibits a bit further into the future.

And my newest / still-in-progress painting is coming along really well. Here’s a picture of me just after starting it, in a park in Normal, IL. (I promise it looks much more exciting now that I’ve spent some more time on it).

 
That’s all for now. If you’re in Chicago, you’ll be able to find me at the upcoming Sundials, Toys That Kill, and Angel Lust shows. If you’re in Milwaukee, I’ll be around up there the whole week of Dummerfest.

If you’d like to write a letter to the court on my behalf, feel free to get in touch. No matter what happens, I’m still grateful to have such great friends, fans, and supporters. You all make it possible for me to have this amazing life of freedom, traveling around the country, making and sharing my art. I can’t thank everyone enough.