The elephant in my brain

Revisiting “Adventures Per Minute,” I felt compelled to write an addendum because I don’t love the way that it ends. After writing much of it though, I realized that these were words I’ve had in my head for years, as I continually postponed writing my statement for “Things You Can’t Come Back From.” Rather than simply tack on to a ten year-old blog entry though, I decided to give this its own space. Here it is.


APM addendum

I’m very tempted to remove (or at least change) these last two paragraphs [which are about a sexual experience involving some very aggressive role-playing]. That feels dishonest though. It would be disingenuous. Because I don’t actually think there’s anything wrong with them; I’m just afraid of how they might influence strangers’ perception of me. And I shouldn’t let that corrupt or influence my art.

I would never actually sexually assault or hurt someone, nor would I get off on it. It would make me physically sick. There’s a difference between playing pretend and reality.

I’ve always felt confident that my willingness to share all the darkest, most private parts of my self (through my art and writing) would be all the evidence anyone would need to know exactly what kind of person I am. Sometimes emotionally erratic, occasionally petty or spiteful but – above all – deeply sensitive, empathetic, and caring. Vulnerable to depression and hopelessness, but – just as often – filled with joy and light, ridiculously silly, generally optimistic, and too trusting for my own good.

If there are people in the world who want to believe otherwise about me, that’s their business – not mine – and I can’t let my fear paralyze me. Not anymore. I already lost nearly eight years of my life to that. It’s time to be brave and that means living (as I did back when I made “Adeventures Per Minute”) with my whole truth. Sharing everything, hiding nothing. That’s what made my work powerful (and popular) in the first place – even if it did eventually hurt me.


As mentioned up top, it occurs to me that much of what I just wrote is part of what I’ve been putting off as I continue delaying the writing of my statement for “Things You Can’t Come Back From.” It’s been six months now since I’ve been clean and making art again, and I’m starting to feel a little steadier. I recently wrote the statement for “Sorry for Overdosing in Your Bathroom” (another one I’d been putting off for similar reasons). But “Things You Can’t” is on a whole other level. That painting is about the single most traumatic episode of my life. I’m committed to finally writing its statement soon. Absolutely before the year’s end. (I will tell the whole story). In any case, I really only mention this (1) as explanation for why this addendum kind of dances around something without fully addressing it; and (2) for the very trivial reason of: Please don’t be annoyed with me if some of what you’ve just read gets repeated, whenever I do write/publish the blog entry for “Things You Can’t.”


In closing, a quick acknowledgment: I want to thank everyone who’s stuck with me. Not only through the years of relapse and inactivity, but through that life-shattering event in 2015. I won’t even try to describe the nightmare of that experience; just know that your trust in me and your continued support means more than I could ever put into words. I did not get it from everyone. Without you, there’s not the slightest chance that I would still be breathing today.


Going to Charlotte

"Going to Charlotte." 12/27/13. Ink. 4x6".
“Going to Charlotte.” 12/27/13. Ink. 4×6″.

This is the less objectionable of my two pieces from Thursday night. I started it while Heather and I were actually talking about all this (and finished it after she went to bed). It was strange because I felt like I had gotten to such a good place after my journal the other day but by late Thursday / early Friday, I felt more convinced than ever that our relationship was over. Today [by which I mean Friday; I haven’t gone to sleep yet] I sort of accepted that I honestly have no idea. It makes me feel less in control than I’d have been comfortable with in the past but – these days – I’ve sort of come to terms (or am at least gradually coming to terms) with the fact that my emotions (and my ideas or plans that find root in them) are subject to unpredictable, radical change at any time. At one point while this was happening, I actually said, “I wish you’d let me break up with you so we could just be friends already.”

This shit’s retarded… This fickle / flighty bullshit. I can’t possibly be worth it. There’s no self-pity in this – it’s just a reality and I feel at peace with it. I tried to make the case that I’m probably not fit for a relationship and was reminded of the (positive) impact I’ve already had. Okay – I can accept that; I’ve heard it before. But that doesn’t necessarily make me a good life choice. Taylor and I dated for six years and while she’s said her life would be wildly different (almost definitely for the worse) had it not been for me, that relationship wasn’t meant to go on; it served its purpose and it ended. So – I don’t know – maybe that’s the role I’m supposed to have. I might not be the best partner but maybe I’m a great detour – a stepping stone to something that, ultimately, makes more sense… something not necessarily better but … just … what it’s supposed to be.

Today – I don’t know what the fuck to make of any of that but there’s my explanation for all the dumb CLT/airport metaphor stuff.

My favorite part is where it says, “I’m pretty okay at fucking!”

—–

My title’s a Mountain Goats’ reference (for reasons that are too dull to bother sharing). But, in light of that, it seems like I oughta throw one out here. “No Children” is about wanting for the end of a relationship, but that’s the extent of its relevance to this piece/last night. The song’s all hostility, bitterness, resentment, and snarky, cynical hate, which has definitely been relatable at other points in my life but I didn’t feel that way at all when I made this. Not during our conversation and not at any point afterward. As crazy as it might sound (which I’m going to take as indication that it probably is) I felt like I was being practical and considerate…

In any case, the parts of the song that are self-deprecating or self-loathing – well, shit – that stuff’s always right on target! Even when I don’t feel it, I fucking love it.

But I wasn’t listening to this stuff then ’cause – like I said – it would have been too angry to fit. I was listening to Shorebirds and Pipsqueak (again), which matches this drawing way better.


Ali-Jae

"Ali-Jae." 7/22/13. Pencil and pen on newsprint. 8x13".
“Ali-Jae.” 7/22/13. Pencil and pen on newsprint. 8×13″.

I sat next to Ali-Jae in fifth grade science class. She knew who No Use For a Name and Ten Foot Pole were, which – of course – automatically made her the coolest person that ten year-old Sam had ever met.

About ten years later, somebody told me: “Ali-Jae is a Republican and a Christian now.”

I thought they were fucking with me! But it was true! I figured it was some kind of a weird phase; it’d only be a matter of time before she snapped out of it and went back to normal.

But she didn’t… Instead, she became a major obstacle in my endeavors to brand all Republicans as soulless destroyers of human life and (to a lesser extent) all Christians as passive and thoughtless. There was just no way to reconcile her existence with my ideas. Eventually, I had to grow up (just a little bit) and change the way I thought about other human beings.

Which is bullshit, man. (Life is so much easier in black and white).

Oh well – it’s still cool. People are people, I guess.

—–

Speaking of which…

http://youtu.be/-u05Yc5zurI?t=32s

The final lyric in this song (“People” by Andrew Jackson Jihad) – “I have faith in my fellow man and I only hope he has faith in me” – (I think) is wonderful. At least in an aspirational sense. It’s not too far off from something I wrote in my statement for “Tola’s Approach to Demons”:

I don’t believe in evil. I don’t believe that there’s such a thing as bad people. I have to think that way ’cause if I’m wrong, then I’m most certainly evil (I’m definitely a bad person). But I try really hard. So I give other people the benefit of the doubt. If someone does something fucked up, I choose to believe that they’re doing their best. (Their best just happens to be pretty terrible relative to average/acceptable standards). I try to keep that in mind whether we’re talking about some asshole on the sidewalk or someone like that kid that shot up Sandy Hook. It’s hard to give everyone that credit – that empathy – but I try. In return, I hope to get the same.

Humanity (as well as perception) are at the heart of a lot of Jihad songs. In “This is Not a War” (a song about the Occupy movement), Sean sings: “There is no enemy, there’s only dummies that also love their families.” And the refrain they’ve used more than any other is: “It’s harder to be yourself than it is to be anybody else.” So long as I remember to give that to other people at least as often as I give it to myself, that’s… – it’s not a bad mantra.

—–

(Somebody help me out… I could’ve sworn that lyric was used in a song before “Distance” and “Big Bird” but now I’m doubting myself).