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.


Bad Things Happen (to Kids That Fuck)

"Bad Things Happen (to Kids That Fuck)." 8/11/14. Ink. 5x7".
“Bad Things Happen (to Kids That Fuck).” 8/11/14. Ink. 5×7″.

Whether we’re talking VD, getting slashed to pieces by a hockey-masked killer, or EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT, it’s clear that bad things happen to kids that fuck.

I’m pretty pleased with how clever that title and I are but this piece is kind of shitty. Like the others in this series, it’s pretty angry and that bums me out. This one’s about trust; it says:

I think it’s strange when people are inherently untrusting of others. Your mom said you shouldn’t trust me. Which is funny ‘cause I put my trust in most everyone but have grown to trust you less and less. I can’t remember the last time I came to be suspicious of so many of the things someone said to me. I don’t think you’re a bad person; I don’t think you have ill intent. But you’re so guarded, it makes you dishonest. It sucks.

The relationship with the girl detailed in these four drawings ended in August but I’m sad to report that my distrust didn’t. I carried it forward with me into my next relationship. In the past, if the girl I was dating wanted to go out to do something I wasn’t interested in, my response was simply “have fun – see you when you get home.” I don’t wanna be solely responsible for anyone’s social life anyway and I value time to myself. So when she goes out without me, we both win. In my last relationship though…

(Actually, let me just take a moment to cut the shit. I left Chicago a week ago but this relationship that I “walked away from” is ongoing; it’s not over).

So in my current relationship, I’ve responded differently. When Nicole wants to go out, I get suspicious. I’m afraid there’s something going on. That she’s going to be flirting with someone or worse. Has she done things that have sparked jealousy or suspicion? Sure. But she hasn’t ever actually done anything to warrant distrust. Which means that my jealousy and suspicion aren’t really justified. And that sucks. I don’t want to be some “jealous boyfriend.” That’s never been me in the past and it’s not who I wanna be now.

This isn’t the kind of distrust or the kind of lies to which this drawing refers but that shit doesn’t feel relevant anymore so I’d rather write about what is. It’s all the same anyway insofar as not being able to believe the things someone says to you is awful. And like I said, I’m so accustomed to just trusting everyone, having faith in people, and assuming the best that my newfound distrust is especially disconcerting. It’s negatively impacted my entire outlook.

I don’t really know what’s going to happen with Nicole and I, but I am going back to Chicago on Thursday. If we try to give it another go, I’m going to ignore my negative impulses and just put my trust in her. I’m going to have to have faith in her. If it doesn’t work out though – for whatever reason – I think maybe my next relationship ought to be with someone where trust comes more naturally. That is, assuming I’m not totally broken and that I’m still capable of real, genuine trust. At this point, the problem may not have anything to do with anyone but me. I genuinely don’t know one way or the other.


 

When Nicole and I first started seeing each other, I recycled this drawing’s title to caption a photo that I posted on Instagram.

skyfactory

The caption read: “Sexy adventures in creepy abandoned waterfront factories. (BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO KIDS THAT FUCK). My life is awesome.”

Here’s to hoping my legal problems and relationship issues are soon resolved and that statement becomes true again.


What I Do When I’m Not on Tinder

"What I Do When I'm Not on Tinder." 6/21/14. Ink. 11x14".
“What I Do When I’m Not on Tinder.” 6/21/14. Ink. 11×14″.

Check me out! I’m being an angry crybaby ’cause I heard second-hand that someone (that I don’t even know!) implied that I can’t really be trusted because I’m a drug addict.

You know how long it’s been since I injected drugs? You know how long it’s been since my compulsion to inject drugs inspired me to do something dishonest? Not to mention: I’m itinerant as fuck! Nobody knows me. I’m in a new city every day. I can be whoever I want each time I roll into a new city. The only reason anyone I encounter these days knows that I am/was a drug addict is ’cause I fuckin’ tell them. I wear everything on my sleeve ’cause I’m okay with who I am. I’m fuckin’ proud of who I am. Good and bad.

So fuck off with that shit.

What’s this have to do with my new piece, “What I Do When I’m Not on Tinder?” Very little! I’m just trying to kill two birds with one stone by venting and simultaneously writing a statement for a new piece. But if I wanted to contrive a connection, here it is: Even my Tinder profile introduces me to “potential matches” with an opening salvo of, “I don’t shoot heroin anymore but I still have a personality disorder. It’s nothing you’d notice most of the time.”

“What’s Tinder?” you ask. Well, you poor unfortunate soul, it’s a dating app for smartphones that matches people based on geographic proximity (“[this user] is two miles away”) and whether or not you swiped left (“nope”) or right (“like”) on their profile – which is comprised of no more than six photos and 500 characters of text. It’s superficial, shallow, and lots of fun! Once two people have swiped right on each others’ profiles, the lines of communication are open for messaging and (potentially) making plans to meet in real life. And now that Tinder’s introduced their newest feature (the hilariously-named “Tinder Moments,” a Snapchat-like feature which allows you to upload an additional photo, revealed only to your “matches” for 24 hours (who are then prompted to “like” or dismiss it by way of swipe)) it’s also become one more social-networking-avenue for a sad little boy like me to collect the validation-via-clicks for which I’m so desperate.

My mood right now is definitely corrupting my usually joyful description of Tinder. It’s shallow, superficial, and a lot of fun. It’s super speed dating. Say the wrong thing to some girl? Who cares! Just scroll down to your next match and start again! It’s totally meaningless (just like everything else in the known universe)!

I finished this drawing three weeks ago but have held off on sharing it on my website, Instagram, and Facebook until now because I only just got a proper high-res photograph of it. There was one venue through which I shared it immediately upon completion though – and it proved to be my most popular TINDER MOMENT to date!

I’m ridiculous. (And pretty okay with it).

Full disclosure: As revealed in the statement accompanying my commissioned “Bleed Blue Tatoo” piece, I’ve “started getting laid again,” am getting all the female attention I need, and have consequently been inactive on Tinder for a week or so. I’m also taking bets on how long ‘til I fall apart again and rediscover its utility. Hit me up for the current odds! Who knows? Maybe this very entry will be the spark that burns it all to the ground!