What Makes Life Feel Worth Living

“What Makes Life Feel Worth Living.” 6/16/24. Acrylic paint. 24×24″.

This painting was essentially the product of my second month clean and single. To be fully honest, I was still pretty hung up on codependency issues and  the fact that, for once, I didn’t have a girlfriend. I found myself experiencing kind a low-grade depression a lot of days, not really wanting to get out of bed. In my head, I kept thinking that finding a new girlfriend was the answer to all my problems but I knew that, really, that would just be a way to distract myself from my problems. In any case, I was too embarrassed to make a painting about that immediately following one about my ex. I pushed myself to really try to get at something deeper in my journal writing. It took a couple weeks and quite a few attempts before I felt like I got at anything remotely meaningful. That’s what’s written across this canvas (in the upper left and just to the left of the very bottom center).

I struggle a lot with meaning and purpose. “Does anything matter?” “What’s the point of doing anything?” “The world’s a mess,” “I’m a mess,” “is anybody really happy?” I don’t know the answers to those questions but – as long as I’m gonna not-kill-myself and keep living – I’ve gotta try. It’s really hard sometimes. I’m not alone but I feel like I am a lot of the time. One person can really make a difference in that. Whether it’s A GIRL PAYING ATTENTION TO ME or someone deciding to GIVE ME MONEY (for my artwork).

When I tell people about my first month clean and making art again, it’s a success story, mostly on account of the commissions I got from Rick, a stranger walking down the sidewalk. But because I was painting outside and because he stopped to talk to me and took an interest, it’s given me concrete reasons to keep painting and writing. Pretty random, very easily could have NOT happened.

It’s genuinely INCREDIBLE when someone tells me how much my art means to them (and I don’t wanna discount that) but when they PUT THEIR MONEY WHERE THEIR MOUTH IS, it’s crazy validating in a way that’s rivaled only by A HOT GIRL WANTING TO FUCK (or date) ME. (Which is totally unrelated and indicates just how broken I am but that’s an issue for other days). It says that what I’m doing has actual value worthy of supporting human life – MY life. That hard validation can bolster my spirit against any/all of the negative feelings I have that could otherwise overtake me.

Even when everything else is wrong, one well-timed “yes” can make all the difference. A thousand rejections are nothing against a few key “yeses.”

These things are small and inconsequential in a world that’s so random and meaningless but when nothing matters, we choose what matters and I choose what makes my life feel worth living.

Taking a chance is worthwhile. Saying “yes” to someone is meaningful. Helping another person, offering encouragement, supporting an artist (ESPECIALLY WHEN IT’S ME). These are things that count. We never know what small act might be HUGELY CONSEQUENTIAL for someone else.

I still don’t know if I’m going to be able to revive my art career and make a living like I was, but it’s working out so far thanks to just a few people and a few key moments and decisions. It reminds me of the last lyric from one of my favorite songs: “just one good thing, that’s all – sometimes that’s all it takes.”

I lined up a handful of commissions right out of the gate upon getting clean: paintings that I had no idea what they’d be but that were pre-paid-for before I even started them. Knowing that a painting is already sold while I’m working on it is really motivating. It gives me a push to get to work. That’s over (at least as of this moment; no one has pre-purchased my next painting). That makes me a little nervous but it’s also how most artists operate – not to mention the only way I’ll ever be able to amass enough paintings to ever have another exhibit. I’m on my own for the first time in a while and need to start hustling again – whether that’s going out on the street to paint in public while slinging prints or putting more effort and thought into my social media. Probably both. It used to come so easily to me but now it seems almost impossible – though much less so than it did even a month ago. One of the main reasons I stayed on drugs so long was because it was an excuse not to do anything else. I’m so afraid of trying and failing. But I’ve got to try. I’ve gotta put myself out there. And hopefully I’ll get the “yeses” I need to keep going.

I’m in danger of rambling now. I wanna say something about how those “yeses” are less-than-ideal external validation in the same way that female attention is, but that’s a subject for another time. The spirit of this painting was about the positive feelings that come making something meaningful that resonates with another person and the positive consequences of that other person’s response. Not everything needs to be overanalyzed. Nothing is perfect but sometimes little things spark joy and pride and feel an awful lot like fulfillment – even if only for a moment. And sometimes that’s enough.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=vOHM7uEcBj4%3Fsi%3DM-_1DYtllIKRfA6Z
The song quoted in my painting (on the little blue guy’s black t-shirt): “Precious on the Edge” by Drunken Boat

This painting has already been sold but limited edition 12×12″ signed, hand-numbered prints are available for purchase WHILE SUPPLIES LAST.


Raygun Youth

"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.

—–

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.


Minor Threat and Ramshackle Glory

My friend, Kyle, has me listening to Minor Threat for the first time in years. And these days, I can’t think about Minor Threat without thinking of a song by Ramshackle Glory (that’s one of my favorites). Here are two songs with selected lyrics from both.

http://youtu.be/5p9xfMSP71M

Minor Threat – “In My Eyes”
You tell me that nothing matters
You’re just fucking scared
You tell me that I’m better
You just hate yourself
You tell me that you like her
You just wish you did
You tell me that I make no difference
Well at least I’m fucking trying

Ramshackle Glory – From Here to Utopia (A Song for the Desperate)

I’ve been listening to Minor Threat records all day and – shit – if I do not know every word. I sing along, as I tie off. And Ian screams he’s “out of step,” as I throw the cotton into the spoon and draw up into the syringe. I’ll know just what he means until I hit a vein. After that I won’t have to bother with knowing who I am, for a while at least. In a moment, the whole world is gonna melt around me and I’ll swear I don’t miss it, as I lie to you tonight. ‘Cause I’m afraid to look the world in the eyes. If nothing’s gonna change, well, then I ‘d rather die. … I’m too hopeless to look for a solution; I’m afraid that if I found one I’d be out of excuses for the way I waste away in the gutters that I chose, like fashion accessories to go with my dirty clothes. …
I want something more than an apology to say, when I look the world in the eyes. I’ll tell you, man – my friend William came to me with a message of hope. It went: “Fuck you and everything that you think you know. If you don’t step outside the things that you believe, they’re gonna kill you.” He said, “No one’s gonna stop you from dying young and miserable and right. If you want something better, you gotta put that shit aside.” ….
I’m not saying that we can’t change the world; everybody does at least a little bit of that. But I won’t shit myself – the way I’m living is a temper tantrum – and I need something else to stay alive. … I know it’s hard to give a shit sometimes, but promise me we’ll always try. ‘Cause I don’t wanna hate you and I don’t wanna hate me and I don’t wanna have to hate everything anymore.

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  • For more Ramshackle Glory, hit up their Bandcamp page, which has a ton of audio as well as links to buy physical records.
  • For more Minor Threat, visit your local mall.

Bug Problem

"Bug Problem." 8/11/13. Colored pencil and ink on newsprint paper. 3¼x9¾”.
“Bug Problem.” 8/11/13. Colored pencil and ink on newsprint paper. 3¼x9¾”.

There have been a bunch of big, mean-looking ants, trolling around my front porch like they own the place. And they’re biters. Yesterday, I sprayed some poison around. I went outside this morning: not a bug in sight! I don’t have to be hyper-vigilant when I got outside anymore; I can sit outside and relax.

I thought about how nice that is. And how simple. I’m all fucked up right now. I’m supposed to be celebrating one year clean this week and I’m not. Money makes no sense to me. The future scares the shit out of me sometimes. Life without heroin… it sometimes reminds me of why for so long I chose life with heroin. I needed a little victory today. A problem I could act on and resolve without years of uncertainty. Like I said: simple.

But then I started thinking about how the poison might effect the lizards that hang out on my porch. Are they gonna be poisoned by it too? Am I destroying their food supply? What other environmental consequences does this spray have? Is this really all that simple?

But ultimately, I’ve got too many real problems to let myself get caught up in shit like that. Sure, it’d be nice if I could save all the trees and the lizards and we could all live happily ever after, but – first – I think I’ll just work on saving myself. Not from bugs. That’s not what I mean. From the stress and anxiety that comes with taking on problems that I don’t need to. (“Precious on the Edge” by Drunken Boat is one of my favorite songs: He knows he’s gotta save the world somehow, but first he’s gotta save himself and that’s the hardest trick of all).

I’m also reminded of a Riverboat Gamblers lyric: It seems we’ve been conditioned to think it’s unreasonable not to be miserable. That was definitely one of my core beliefs for a long time and something I had to work on a lot in treatment. If I felt good, I felt like an idiot. Like, “Hey, dumbass! Look around you! What the fuck is there to be happy about??” I try not to think that way anymore. It hasn’t been easy to shed a lot of those old ideas. I held on to them for at least two decades.

I’m glad that I have the capacity to be thoughtful—reflective. But sometimes I need to tell my inner-critic to just shut the fuck up already.

Here are both songs (and the full lyrics to “Precious on the Edge”).

Precious on the Edge lyrics

 

This cartoon is available as an 8×10″ print.