11/8/14 status update

November 8, 2014

I’ve neglected my blog for so long that it’s hard to know where to start. While anyone who follows me on Facebook is pretty up to date with the gruesome details of what’s going on in my life, here’s the gist of it for anyone who’s not up to speed:

  • I moved in with a girl in Chicago in July. We broke up in August.
  • A day and a half later, I started seeing another girl in Chicago. That lasted three months, until Thursday, when I finally left.
  • I love the girl but the relationship was incredibly dysfunctional and it had me more fucked up, twisted around, confused, depressed, anxious, and suicidal than I’ve been since December 2012.
  • While I’ve neglected writing the statements for my artwork, I’ve still been actively creating new pieces. The lack of updates can be accounted for by (1) not having had the new pieces photographed yet, (2) not having their statements written, and (3) the fact that these new pieces are HUGE and the last two have each taken more than a month to complete.
  • My charges are still pending and still stressing me out but I’m still (sort of) optimistic that some kind of a resolution can be reached – or at least resigned to accept the punishment that’s being offered as part of the plea deal that’s currently on the table.
  • As the weather got colder in Chicago, I saw a dramatic decrease in my print sales when I’d go downtown to set up, paint, and sell. Consequently, my income this last month is lower than it’s been since January, which is stressing me out but not killing me.
  • I desperately needed to get out of Chicago to escape my shitty relationship, so I’m in St. Louis now. On November 22nd, I’ll go to Minneapolis for the Rivethead reunion. On November 24th, I’ll return to Normal/Bloomington, IL for my next court date. From there, I’m not sure what I’ll do but if I have to accept the plea deal, I’ll be put on two years probation and will need to choose a state to serve it out in, since my movement will be restricted and I’ll have to be physically present for monthly check-ups. My art career would warrant that I choose either New York or California but I would probably have to choose Florida for the sake of my mental health, as that’s where I’ve got the most emotional support. In theory, I would be able to apply for travel permits to leave the state for my “job” (for example, to go to Minneapolis for my exhibition in March).
  • When I left Chicago on Thursday, I left without Chris Spillane. It was six months ago that I petitioned the court to have him picked up by police and put into detox and six months since I picked him up from detox and brought him out on the road with me. He now has six months clean, a job, a place to live, and everything else that could be reasonably expected of relatively well-balanced kid of our ilk. When I return to Illinois for my court date at the end of the month, he’ll have the option to rejoin me but I suspect that he’s gonna keep on in Chicago, building up his new life.
  • In September, I started seeing a psychiatrist in Chicago. In October, she put me back on antipsychotic and antidepressant medications (in addition to the Adderall that I’ve been on for ten years). The last time I was on antidepressants was as an inpatient at Tranquil Shores in February 2013. The last time I was on antipsychotics was (I think) as an inpatient at the Wellness Resource Center in February 2012, though I almost went back on them in January 2013.
  • In addition to the psychiatrist in Chicago, I’ve also started meeting once weekly (via Skype or Facetime) with Tracy, my counselor from Tranquil Shores.
  • Anxiety and depression destroyed my appetite the last month or so and I’m skinnier than I’ve been in at least twelve years. That’s good because I have body dysmorphic disorder and being this thin makes me feel good about myself. It’s bad ’cause… I don’t know… ’cause people say it’s bad…?

1182014

I have no idea how this all comes across as a whole but here’s what I think should be the important point to take away from it all: October was a bad month but – here, in St. Louis – I am safe, and cared for, and feeling eight million times better. I am no longer suicidally depressed and though I am afraid of what will happen once I leave St. Louis in two weeks, I am okay and I am once again grateful.

I’m going to spend the day with my current work-in-progress, possibly do some layout work for a new flier or work on written statements for finished pieces, and – tonight – I’m going to go downtown to see Rational Anthem play with The Copyrights and The Murderburgers.

If you wanna buy some art right now, that’d be pretty great.

The World Can Be Cold and Mean But I’m Gonna Try to Do My Best Anyway

September 22, 2014

"The World Can Be Cold and Mean But I’m Gonna Try to Do My Best Anyway." 8/13/14. Acrylic paint. 60x40".
“The World Can Be Cold and Mean But I’m Gonna Try to Do My Best Anyway.” 8/13/14. Acrylic paint. 60×40″.

I’m facing felony charges for possession of a controlled substance. These are not old charges pending from my days on heroin; I was arrested earlier this month for possession of Adderall, the prescription medication I’ve been on for nearly ten years. Adderall is one of those meds that can’t be refilled with a phone call each month. The patient has to actually go in to the doctor’s office for an appointment every thirty days, physically pick up the prescription, and bring it to the pharmacy. My prescription lapsed before I found a doctor, here in Chicago, and a friend with a prescription gave me a few pills to hold me over until I could get my own. (I have an appointment with a new doctor tomorrow but – a little late).

My case is still pending but the offer from the state that’s currently on the table includes two years of supervised probation, a shit ton of fines and fees, community service, and enrollment in a substance abuse treatment program. Everyone can always benefit from counseling but, these days, I get invited to speak at substance abuse treatment facilities; I don’t need to be a patient in one.

At the moment, I’m optimistic about a resolution to my case but don’t necessarily have any reason to be. For a while, it looked like the state was actually going to push for a conviction and, possibly, even a jail sentence. No one (defense lawyers included) seems to care that I’m not actually abusing drugs or that my entire life and career are pretty much based on that fact. No one cares that I help other people suffering with addiction and other mental illnesses, on a daily basis, both directly and through my art and writing. In the eyes of the court, I’m just some faceless degenerate that got busted with some pills. Just to get released on bail, I had to pay $1,025 in cash. Getting that money together (without even being allowed access to my bank account) through collect calls in a city three hours from anywhere that I know anyone was not an easy thing to do. Being stuck in Illinois, on probation in Normal, is not conducive to what I’m doing with my life. Two years of criminal fines are not in the budget. And god forbid I somehow fuck up, get tagged with a “violation of probation” and actually get put in jail after all. I’m caught up in a shitty, unfeeling system that doesn’t care about me and it hurts and it’s scary.

This was the last painting I finished before my arrest so the journal written on the canvas isn’t actually about this situation but … it seems even more relevant now than it was when I wrote it.

My world gets pretty dark some days. I try to smile, try to have fun, encourage other people to do the same but sometimes the world just spits at you. At me. Negativity is poisonous and infectious. I don’t let tragedy beyond my immediate vicinity affect me these days but a single mean word directed my way can still obliterate me.

I understand why people kill themselves and I don’t fault them for it but, today, I’m gonna try my best to not succumb to my darker impulses. I’m gonna listen to pop punk songs with my friend, Chris, and I’m gonna walk into five galleries, bare my soul, and try to get my funny faces and emotional instability up on their walls. I believe in myself and what I do and if you don’t get it or you don’t like me, that’s nothing I need to focus my energy on.

The world can be cold and mean but I’m gonna try to do my best anyway.

This painting already sold but BEAUTIFUL 12×18-inch prints are available in the webstore. They’re one of my favorites.

Yo – I Painted a Fuckin’ Unicorn

March 2, 2014

Friday, I sold art at the Civic Media Center in Gainesville. Drove back to Jacksonville last night and sold at the Four Families album release show. AND NOW – after seeing Gord post something about Atlanta – I’ve keenly deduced that not only are Iron Chic playing in Gainesville tonight, but they’re playing with Off With Their Heads and The Slow Death! Couldn’t be more excited. I hit up Johnny to see if I could sell art at the show tonight and – now that I’ve got the go-ahead and know that I can make some money to cover gas – I’m about to hit the road and drive right back to Gainesville.

Things couldn’t be going better lately.  That (and the fact that I’ve been off Adderall for MORE THAN A WEEK now) has had an interesting effect on my artistic output. I’m less in my head, less troubled, and painting nonsense like this:

"Yo - I Painted a Fuckin' Unicorn." 2/28/14. Acrylic paint. 16x16".
“Yo – I Painted a Fuckin’ Unicorn.” 2/28/14. Acrylic paint. 16×16″.

Which is cool, I guess. It’s not the first time it’s happened.

My favorite element of the painting is the arrow at the bottom center – directing the viewer’s attention to the unicorn. You know – IN CASE ANYONE’S HAVING TROUBLE FINDING IT.

 

UPDATE! / ADDENDUM! (April 24, 2014)

In April of last year, I was at an art fair kinda thing, where I met an artist named William Somma. He asked me if I’d like to collaborate on a painting. He threw a bunch of colors onto a canvas and then handed it off to me so that I could paint a bunch of my funny faces on top. The result was our painting, “Limp.” When it was done, he asked if I’d like to do another. He threw a bunch of colors on the second canvas but they didn’t dry before the day was done. I took it home with me and didn’t pick it up again for almost a year. That second painting (eventually) became, “Yo – I Painted a Fuckin’ Unicorn.”

Here’s the thing… None of Will’s colors were still on the canvas by the time I was finished with it. His texture was still underneath my paint but I felt guilty about it. I argued with myself over whether I should acknowledge that this was the same canvas (and risk hurting his feelings) or say nothing and – should he ever ask about the canvas – LIE and say that I lost it. In the moment that I decided to share the painting online, I didn’t even think of the whole dilemma.

A couple days ago, Will sent me an email: “Hey, question… I was browsing your paintings and I noticed the unicorn one. Is that the one I gave you at Art Pool underneath? The texture made it turn out pretty neat.”

Holy shit, that kid’s got a good eye! That was a year ago!!

I told Will all about my guilt and shame and he was totally cool about it. The whole thing was a giant relief.

AND CHECK IT OUT: Now my Unicorn painting has a way better story! Being mentally ill sure keeps things interesting!

The original painting is sold, but check out the prints in the webstore!

Raygun Youth

February 28, 2014

"Raygun Youth." 8/3/13. Acrylic paint and ink on wood panel. 24x6".
“Raygun Youth.” 8/3/13. Acrylic paint and ink on wood panel. 24×6″.

I painted this for the cover of Billy Raygun’s posthumous discographic cassette. Each of the three bits of text is a lyric from a song of theirs that means something to me.

I thought I heard you calling; it was just the emptiness ringing in my head. I still think about you a lot. I still think about you a lot. I still think about you a lot.

In April 2011, my six-year relationship with Taylor came to a close. She broke up with me. I didn’t take it well. I had been pretty strung out on heroin, in a pretty bad way, for a little while but had just gotten into my first “treatment program” a few days prior (it was just methadone maintenance – not exactly the best path to wellness but what did I know?) On top of that, final exams for my final semester at Georgetown Law were about to begin and I hadn’t been to any of my classes all year. I didn’t even own the textbooks. I had a lot of studying to do if I was gonna graduate on time and I knew god damn well that if I didn’t graduate now that it was never gonna happen. I needed to keep it together (get it together) real, real fast if I was gonna keep everything in my life from crumbling into absolute shit, misery, and failure. Between the methadone, the heroin, the Adderall, and the sleep deprivation that goes along with studying in 24-hour shifts, I was … not entirely well. For a while there, I started to experience regular auditory hallucinations. Mostly, it was people (strangers) screaming at each other. It was like channel surfing on a TV where every single show featured nothing but loud, angry people. Occasionally though, I’d get a break in that and hear something softer and sweeter: “Sam…” It was a voice I knew; it was Taylor’s voice. Every single time, I’d turn around without fail, hoping (and actually believing) that this time she’d actually be standing there. She never was (of course) but it still broke my heart a little bit every time. It was a miserable cycle of studying, drugs, and crying.

All of this care / not caring is killing me.

This lyric isn’t tied into any one specific memory as much as it serves as an all-encompassing description of my relationships (romantic and otherwise) throughout my life. Oscillating frantically back and forth between giving a shit and shutting down. Between feeling loved and feeling abandoned and rejected. Sometimes it seems like my emotions are wired to a light switch. It doesn’t take a lot to flip from “perfect” love to total apathy (or even hatred). And since “we’re attracted to those at our same level of sickness/health,” I’ve gotten mixed up with plenty of girls who are equally skilled at unintentional (often drug-fueled) emotional back-and-forth. There was one night in early 2012 when my then-girlfriend professed her deep, unending, profound love for me in one moment, and was swearing that I was a disgusting, ugly, unlovable piece of shit in the next. And before the hour was up, she was right back to telling me how wonderful I was. Experiences like that can fuck with a person…

I’ll just admit that it’s a different girl, the same old story.

When I half-heartedly tried to kill myself in December 2012, I didn’t write a suicide note, but I did scribble something down on the back of one of many scraps of paper that were laying around my room. All that it said: “different girl / same old story.”

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Ideally, I’d have held on to sharing this until this release was announced but – shit – it’s been more than six months since I painted it so… sorry, kids!

Here’s a stream of their self-titled full-length. The first song is the first song I quoted lyrics from.

Because Nihilism

December 30, 2013

"Because Nihilism." 4/22/13. Watercolor and acrylic paints, charcoal, and ink. 12x16".
“Because Nihilism.” 4/22/13. Watercolor and acrylic paints, charcoal, and ink. 12×16″.

 

I painted this in April. I like ants. It’s expressive art and the story behind it is enough like a million others that it’s not worth telling. Instead, here’s the story of my life in April 2011.

—–

When Taylor finally called me back, she sounded weird. “What’s going on?” She wouldn’t say. She was being evasive. I just came out and asked – “are you done with me?” She didn’t answer right away but – when she did – yeah, that was pretty much the gist of it.

Six years… I was in total shock. I had just gotten into my first “treatment” program eight days prior. (Methadone maintenance). I was cured! How could she break up with me now?!? Life was about to become a dream! This is preposterous!

Not to mention, I was in the middle of my final exams. My final final exams. She couldn’t wait two fucking weeks to do this? I was gonna be so busy for the next few weeks that, at most she might have seen me once. By breaking up with me now, it was guaranteeing that I’d fail my exams, not graduate from law school, lose at life, and DIE. What a selfish, miserable human being. (Her, I mean). (I’m really cool and great).

Granted, her timing was a little poor but I’m obviously still alive, and my interpretation of things has changed with time. Taylor didn’t leave me that day – because I had already left her – when I let heroin overtake her on my list of priorities. For the last eight months, I had barely existed in her life. I spent all my time hiding from her, out all day, out all night, shooting up at school or the basement of our building, ignoring her phone calls. Now that I had a couple pleasant days I thought everything was gonna be okay again?

But I couldn’t see that; I couldn’t see anything. I just hurt. More than hurt. I was fucking leveled. I didn’t want to use but… I had to. If I didn’t relapse, that’d mean I wasn’t really hurt. And I was really hurt so… I had to shoot some heroin to prove it. To myself. To Taylor. To the world. (I’m not really sure). And I had to buy a lot (two hundred bucks’ worth) ‘cause that was the best deal. (Money management’s an important skill!) My little bundle lasted me through the day with a few caps left over for the next. And then I put it out of my head and got back to the task at hand.

I hadn’t been to any of my courses all semester (I never even bothered to get textbooks). I logged in to the school’s website, found out which classes I was enrolled in, and settled into a couch in a (usually) empty room at school, where I’d spend the next few weeks, trying to learn as much as I could and just maybe graduate. When I couldn’t stay up any longer, I’d put my computer in my backpack and sleep on that same couch where I was studying. I didn’t get up for anything. Almost. Every six or seven days, I’d walk to the closest store to stock up on bagel bites and apples, which I kept in the fridge of a student organization to which I (of course) didn’t belong. There were three other reasons I’d occasionally leave the couch: to smoke a cigarette, use the bathroom, and (most importantly) – once a day, between the hours of 6AM and noon – go get my daily dose of methadone.

At one point, I saw myself in the bathroom mirror and was pretty impressed with how strung out I looked. (I guess the methadone / Adderall / sleep deprivation combo will do that you).  I took a picture for posterity.

April 2011
Less than a month after this photo was taken, THIS DRUG-ADDLED FUCK UP GOT A LAW DEGREE FROM GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY!

—–

“Barkmarket Fuckacy” by House Boat is my favorite song on the last record [The Thorns of Life CD/LP] to bear the Traffic Street Records logo.

In the liner notes for the record, there’s a special “thanks to Sam North for basically ruining his life to help get this record made.”

(On our way to the studio for the recording of the album, I caught two felony possession of heroin charges and more misdemeanor charges for needles and other paraphernalia than I can count/remember). And if that wasn’t bad enough, the cops didn’t even give me back my drugs when they let me go! So on top of everything else, I had to spend the next day scrambling around Indiana looking for heroin.

Shoot Me

December 11, 2013

"Shoot Me." 12/6/12. Pen. 5x7"
“Shoot Me.” 12/6/12. Pen. 5×7″

I drew this in the same Alcoholics Anonymous meeting as the original (lost) Autobiography cartoon. It’s one of the random scrap drawings that I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually add to the site but – while going through files, sizing artwork for my next batch of prints – I decided to clean it up a little bit and I sorta like it now. Besides – this little character’s got history! He popped up again just two days later in Group Therapy.

Anyway, I’ve been at it now for virtually all of the last twenty-four hours. I was up all night doing all sorts of basic maintenance/inventory kinds of stuff so that I can reorder out-of-stock prints, get some others for the first time, and buy more of the supplies that I need to package ’em all. I think I’ll probably stay up straight through the day and just go to sleep tonight. I can’t remember the last time I did that, but I feel pretty okay. I’ve been so productive that – until this moment – it hadn’t even occurred to me that I haven’t taken any Adderall today; I’m just on a streak, I guess.

Around 7 or 8 this morning, I took a break from the boring business end of “being an artist” and started working on a new cartoon, which I’m going to finish today but (for TOP SECRET REASONS) won’t be able to share with anyone for a month or so. I’m pretty excited about it though; it’s coming out really well.

—–

When I looked up that Atom & His Package song for yesterday’s entry, I stumbled into this one first, which I had never heard before. I saw Atom & His Package play when I was fourteen (at The Orpheum in late 2000). It’s never really been my thing but after more than a decade of not being even slightly interested in anything beyond “Punk Rock Academy,” it’s starting to grow on me. This one’s really good. It’s total nonsense but it’s just too god damn catchy and energetic to ignore.

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  • 4×5½” prints of “Shoot Me” (numbered, signed, and sealed) are available in my webstore. In the same listing (for the same price) you can also buy the original.
  • “I’m Downright Amazed” was included on Atom’s final release, which my friend Alex told me is one of the best live albums he’s ever heard.

Everything Sucks When I’m Out of Adderall

October 9, 2013

"Everything Sucks When I'm Out of Adderall." 3/23/13. Watercolor, pen, marker, and acrylic on 140 lb cold pressed paper. 9x12".
“Everything Sucks When I’m Out of Adderall.” 3/23/13. Watercolor, pen, marker, and acrylic on 140 lb cold pressed paper. 9×12″.

I don’t believe that drugs are always bad. Even drugs like heroin. I think drug use is a problem when it starts to cause problems. If you’re able to use heroin recreationally, sporadically: congratulations! Have at it! If it’s not draining your bank account, if you don’t ever develop a physical dependence, if your use isn’t destroying your personal relationships – well, I say, shoot up to your little heart’s content.

I did that for a while… Five and a half years. I can’t seem to pull that trick anymore though so – for me – the party’s over. I don’t take any drugs these days. Except for Adderall. Every day. Do I have attention deficit disorder? Um… yeah – sure, probably. [Whatever that means]. What’s important though is that it helps me; I do well with it.

Until I run out. In March, there was a hiccup in getting my prescription. [Adderall is controlled to the extent that a doctor needs to write a new prescription every single month]. I had been getting it from the doctor at Tranquil Shores, but I wasn’t in Tranquil Shores anymore. And once I actually run out, it gets even harder to get my prescription. I’m pretty debilitated by its absence in my system. (I’ve been on it for almost ten years). So I had been out for at least a few days and I was struggling to get out of bed or even move. If I’m being honest, part of this is probably psychological but – if that is the case – it’s a tough fucking psychological hurdle to overcome. I feel thoroughly drained.

I dragged myself to the edge of the mattress so I could reach at my backpack on the floor. And I stayed in that position (hanging off the side of the bed) painting or – more accurately -just swiping at the paper. Raising my arm and letting it fall. I wanted to be productive, I wanted to create, but I just didn’t have it in me. Eventually I found the strength to lift myself back onto the mattress and finish the piece with my pen.

You know – having written this all out – I come across as way more pathetic than I’d intended.

The caption says, “I remember when I had ideas. I remember when I had Adderall.”

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