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Category: Round 4

Common Denominator

September 18, 2024

“Common Denominator.” 8/12/24. Acrylic paint and pigment ink. 8×10″.

We all know people who refuse to take responsibility for their problems. Anything wrong is always someone else’s fault. I don’t think I’m guilty of this, but a recent set of incidents gave me cause to reflect. 

Two spats with friends but, in both cases, I was confident I’d done nothing wrong. When CONFLICT #3 happened though, I knew I needed to examine my part in it. After all, I’m the COMMON DENOMINATOR. It must be my fault, right?

And, generally speaking – usually – I think that’s true. If a person is repeatedly having the same issue with different people, it’d be pretty unbelievable if they weren’t responsible for those issues. So I set my hurt feelings and anger aside for a moment and went back over everything that had happened. But I couldn’t get there. I genuinely didn’t believe that my actions were the root cause of the problem. “Y’know what the real common denominator is here?” I thought to myself, “It’s that these people are immature, insecure fucking diaper babies, incapable of having a conversation about their feelings and actually working through (something that shouldn’t even be) a problem.”

That felt pretty shallow though (TRUE AS IT MAY BE) – to be placing the blame in that way. It also wasn’t lost on me that if my friends suck, that definitely says something about me as much as it does them.

It’s long been a point of pride that I have so many, decades-long friendships. I felt it spoke to my character that I maintained so many relationships for so long. But there’s a reason that’s uncommon. Human beings aren’t really capable of maintaining deep, meaningful relationships with too many people. We’re lucky if we can manage as much with our family, a partner, and maybe a friend or two. No matter what Facebook tells you, no one has hundreds or even a dozen friends. What we actually have is friendly acquaintances. People we have affection for but aren’t consistently, intimately involved with. We might be there for one another when needed, but until those moments happen, we’re just hanging out. It’s not very deep.

My problem was that I’d confused acquaintances for friends. We’ve been on good terms for decades but we don’t really know each other. We’re not committed to one another’s well-being in any serious way. I’d presumed an understanding of one another, thought we had shared values, and expected them to behave consistently with those values. I treated these people as I would treat actual friends and made the mistake of expecting that they would do the same. That’s on me.

Real friendships aren’t unlike marriages; they’re tested by conflict and are only as meaningful as their commitment to finding solutions. If someone doesn’t care enough to resolve a problem (or doesn’t have the emotional maturity to) that makes for a weak relationship and not much of a friendship.

Friendly acquaintances can be fun, rewarding, and even ultimately become real friendships. But unless one does, I need to keep it in the proper perspective and not be emotionally invested in something shallow. I’m grateful for the meaningful relationships I do have – which are more than enough to occupy my attention and energy.

Hey, YOU! I count on your support! The original “Common Denominator” painting has already been sold but limited-edition 8×10” prints are available for purchase. As always, each one is beautifully-packaged, hand-numbered, and personally signed by YOURS TRULY. Buy one and help KEEP THE DREAM ALIVE.

If you haven’t yet read my SALACIOUS prose poem from a week or so ago (OR EVEN IF YOU HAVE), because it wasn’t already embarrassing enough, I made it into a video. And because THAT’s not embarrassing enough, I specifically made it into a TIK TOK video. Go watch it. And follow me on there. My understanding is that that’s where all the KIDS AND MONEY are these days, so I need to build a FOLLOWING.

https://www.tiktok.com/@sammythrashlife/video/7416041826924170542

untitled prose poem

September 8, 2024

I wrote a stream-of-consciousness prose poem. It doesn’t have a title. It may or may not find its way into the painting I’m working on right now. It’s about the girl who says she can’t live without me – and the guy that she rebounded with when we broke up – who she’s still living with because she’s too piss-scared of change to crawl out of her rut.

If you’re going to cling to a safety net
Could you at least choose one that’s less pathetic?
A chronic masturbator, jerking off in his car
Into socks that he lets pile up in the back seat…

I know you like having someone you know will never leave you
Or hold you accountable for anything
But how about a chronic masturbator
who jerks off into tissues that he throws away?

‘Cause it’s embarrassing having to try to explain
Why we’re not together
Even though you’re in love with me
That this is a tough choice for you
DOES NOT REFLECT WELL ON ME

I think you’re afraid to be in a healthy relationship
Which is why you never leave the bad ones
I know you’ll try to come back to me
(Because you’re still trying)
But I know you’ll try harder
You will eventually make a real effort
But even if I took you back for real
And we made a real go of it
I don’t think you’d stick around
Because you wouldn’t be comfortable
With someone who makes you happy
With someone you like fucking
With someone who loves you
And dotes on you
You’re too used to neglect
And alienation
And watching TV on separate couches
And sleeping in the same bed
Without ever making physical contact

It breaks my fucking heart
How scared you are
How broken you are
How much fun we have
How much love we have
Until you self-sabotage
So I pull back
And you go back
To living alone
In a house with someone else
Where you drink
And cry
And are always sick
And never happy
Until we reconnect again
And you start to heal
And start to love
And start to smile
And laugh
And everyone can see how happy you are
And how in love we are
Until you fuck it up all over again
And the cycle goes on

I’m too old now
To be wasting time repeating the same mistakes
I’m ready to be happy
It breaks my heart
That it won’t be with you

Because you’re everything I want
You’re my dream girl
I can’t imagine
Being more attracted to
Having more fun with
Having better sex with
Sharing more love with
Anyone else
You’re perfect
Except for that one little thing
Inside of your brain
That nullifies everything else
That makes it all worthless
Because it’ll never work
Because you’re too afraid
to just let yourself be happy

And you hate yourself so much
You can’t believe anyone could really love you
Unless there’s something wrong with them
So you stay stuck in your rut
With someone that you know you at least have control over
Because he’s the personification of a wet paper bag
Except that wet paper bags
Don’t get drunk and watch Andrew Tate videos
Or have a dozen jizz-crusted socks in the backseat of their car
You can cheat on him
(And show him videos of you cheating on him)
Show him what it looks like when you’re with someone else
Who you actually love
And actually fuck
And enjoy it
You can scream at him
You can say awful things to cut him down
To make him feel totally worthless
You can be cruel
Because you resent him
Because he doesn’t make you happy
And he’ll just take it
And resent you
But never leave
Just sulk
And get drunk
And text you Andrew Tate videos

That’s the life you’re choosing
That’s what you’re afraid to let go
It’s a tragedy
A genuine fucking tragedy
Because unlike the movies
This won’t have a happy ending
Unless you make it happen
And I don’t think you can

Update from two days later (Tue, Sep 10): The same day that I wrote this (but before I’d posted it) I got a phone call from someone on this girl’s behalf. I was told that she’d been looking at keepsakes of her father (who died a little over a year ago) and had come to the realization that she didn’t want to waste one more single day of her life living without me. I was asked to please call her and hear her out. I was skeptical when she gave me all the usual lines. She was going to officially break it off with that guy and let him know that she was moving out at the end of the month. She also told me she’d already found a couple of prospective apartments. She begged me to believe her and give her another shot. I told that, frankly, I didn’t believe her but that she could come over. So that night, she asked me to pick her up. When I told her I was outside, she told her sockboy (actually, we usually call him “Lumpy” but his real name is Brett) that she was going to the kitchen for a glass of water, but instead came out and got in the car. She stayed the night and – when I dropped her back off the next day – she said she was gonna tell Lumpy the truth about everything when he got home from work and that she’d call me the next morning to come pick her up so we could spend the day together.

Instead, she texted me just to say, “I’m an idiot.” I called to ask what that meant (as if I didn’t already know) and she said that she’d only gotten as far into the conversation with Lumpy to say that things weren’t working out, but hadn’t been able to muster the courage to tell him the full truth about her and I, or that she was planning on moving out. I asked if she was still planning on moving out and – oh so predictably – she said she didn’t know. Said she needed “time” to figure it out. Even though I had already been giving her all the time and space in the world and she reached out to me (as always) to once more say she was certain now.

So I’m cutting off communication again. And hoping that’s the last time I get dragged through that same cycle. I could make excuses for why I keep letting it happen or explain what I think needs to happen for me to stop but I’ll just leave it at that for now.

Oh, wait – one more thing. Remember the part where I mentioned that she sent Lumpy a video of me fucking her in order to hurt his feelings? While drunk, he told her that he had kept the video. Because he jerks off to it. Probably while sitting in his car. Into a sock. That’s probably still lying in his back seat. What a champ. Cheers, Brett Riddick. Or Reddick. Or whatever the fuck your name is. If anyone ever has cause to Google your name one day, I hope they find this page.

SECOND UPDATE!: This poem is now also a TikTok video because 🤪.

The Boy Nobody Wanted Wins the Super Bowl

July 31, 2024

“The Boy Nobody Wanted Wins the Super Bowl” 7/26/24. acrylic paint. 36×36″.

“Stick with me and I’ll pay off someday.”

That’s a lyric from The Copyrights’ “Keep Me in the Dark.” It’s one that’s resonated with me since it was released fifteen years ago. 

I have a lot of core beliefs about myself and all but one of them are negative. The one, good one is that I’m smart. I’ve been told and I’ve seen objective proof of it all throughout my life, going back as far as I can remember. Because of that, I always believed growing up that I’d be successful no matter what. Even when I was in high school and totally fucking off and getting terrible grades. Even when I got fucked up the night before SATs and blew them off by not showing and never rescheduling. I still believed on some level that I’d wind up at a prestigious college. And sure enough – despite a total lack of financial support or connections of any kind – I finished my education with a Juris Doctor at Georgetown Law. Granted, I did eventually start working hard to earn that when I was at a community college, but still.

That kind of positive reinforcement – that I’m always going to succeed (eventually) – might not have been the best thing for me. It hurts to admit it but I’ve been through quite a few relationships since “stick with me and I’ll pay off someday” and – quite arguably – I have not. Not in a financial sense anyway. Not for good. Maybe here and there. Certainly not now.

I am “the boy nobody wanted” (as far as I’m concerned). Whether or not I’m going to “win the super bowl” (in the sense alluded to by the preceding paragraphs) remains to be seen. And it’s the subject of some controversy in my life at the moment. (That is to say, the question of whether or not I can support a family or even myself). But in another, more immediate sense, I have won the super bowl.

I don’t generally like to borrow from other people’s art, but I made an exception in the case of this painting.

Bart Simpson is trying to be a part of his family’s Thanksgiving. He’s also arguably trying to be the center of attention but the key fact is that he wants to participate. And in doing so, he accidentally destroys an elaborate centerpiece that Lisa had made for the family’s Thanksgiving table. His parents scold him. His mom says he’s “ruined Thanksgiving.” He’s sent to his room. Feeling that he’s the victim of a great injustice, he declares that he doesn’t care about or need his family and he sneaks out his bedroom window.

After a day out in the city on his own, he returns home and imagines the reception he’ll get. Even though his family has been worried sick about him and just want him safely back home, Bart imagines walking in the front door only to be chastised and shamed further. Again, he responds to (what he perceives as) his family’s rejection of him by declaring that he doesn’t need his family but – having nowhere else to go – he climbs up onto the house’s roof. Once up there, he finds a trove of forgotten toys. Balls, frisbees, water rockets, and more that were lost when they went too high and got stuck on the roof. He’s thrilled and begins playing by himself. Tossing a football into the air and running to the other side of the roof to catch it, he shouts (as the balls lands in his hands), “The boy nobody wanted JUST, WON, THE SUPER BOWL!!!” Bart is achingly self-conscious, feels unloved – tolerated at best – and alone. But in this moment, despite all that, he’s found a little bit of joy.

That’s how I felt as I painted this. I can’t even express in words how I felt many times in the last few weeks as I worked on this piece. Taking a step back and examining my work, I was filled with such joy. Pride. Really, a kind of awe. I love the way this painting looks and that was the case for much of the process. Often enough, it’s quite some time before I start to really like the way one of my pieces looks. But so many little, inconsequential details that (I’m sure) very few people will ever even notice in this painting, made me so happy. The contrast between two neighboring swaths of color. The expression on one of my little “creatures’” faces. The pattern in some area. The texture of a background. These things delighted me.

It’s always great when someone else appreciates my art but I’m so grateful that I’m my own biggest fan. That I’ve found something that can make me so happy. And that it’s something that I make myself. It doesn’t exist without me. That’s a pretty great feeling.

Rejection – even just perceived rejection – hurts, for sure. And on some level, I always have and always will feel like “the boy nobody wanted.” And so far as the rest of the world’s concerned – yeah – I’ve not won anything close to a super bowl. But I also know that all the financial or material success in the world won’t fix that feeling in me that I’m “the boy nobody wanted.” Money’s not gonna make that go away. But so long as I can get a few wins – even alone, up on my roof – hey, things could be worse.

In a RARE TWIST(!), this painting hasn’t already been sold yet. (At least not as of the time of this writing). Contact me if you’re interested in buying the original or one of the limited edition, signed prints.

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