Dot one letter.
When you start some nonsensical personal blog you never think about how it could hurt someone you used to love–or still do.
It can make it hard to speak, to draw.
When hurting them hurts you.
That’s never what I wanted.
I just want to keep creating anything until I find some way forward.
To keep running into the fog until I hit something.
To dive into the deep end of a cold pool and go numb.
And I know I have to keep going, or maybe I just want to.
But I hope they’re okay.
When nobody can make you feel better.
And you can’t ignore it long enough to distract yourself.
And there’s no such thing as busy enough to forget about it.
And you just go deaf.
You’re not bored.
You just want to remember you’re alive.
Get higher, board faster.
Turn the music up.
Forget how you got home last night.
Remember falling asleep on the couch so you wouldn’t wake her up.
She hogged the blankets anyway.
But you’ve memorized the hills, and the ride isn’t such a rush anymore.
At least not enough to forget.
Your tolerance goes up, you blow out all your speakers.
There’s no one to hog the blankets.
And you’re not sure if that’s how you want it.
So you’re just left with that ringing in your ear.
But you always wake up one day and realize you feel it again.
You just have to make it until that morning.
When you wake up, and you’re back.
You always come around.
Just hold on.
You’ll come around to save yourself.
It will level out.
I’m sorry, I know I’m not making enough money to keep the wolves fed. I know my finances are kind of a mess, I feel bad about that. Just understand that I had–have no choice. I have to wake up every day and do what I love, I just don’t see any way around that. I can never forget that I only have one life, and that I can’t waste it. It’s something inside me that I can’t ignore.
Don’t worry, the money will come. I’ve been preparing this stage for a while now. I just had to make sure I got it right. I can’t end up like Robin Williams, hung out in a mansion. I had to keep following that voice, no matter what, in spite of everything. I had to do what I knew would make me happy, no matter how ignorantly idealistic.
But the tickets are on sale for the show now. Spotlights are beaming into the low fog. I’m ready to show the world what I can do. Ready to leave their doubts behind me.
You know, in High School, there was this kid I hated more than anyone. I remember suppressing the urge to throw a punch once or twice. It kept me up at night.
But for the life of me.. I can’t remember his face.
So I wonder,
What was all the hate for…
So don’t ask me if I’m doing okay.
Ask me if I’m looking forward to waking up tomorrow.
The answer is yes.
This is your captain speaking, we’ll be approaching cruising altitude shortly. When the seat belt lights turn off please feel free to do whatever you’d like to do however the hell you’d like to do it for–god damn–ever. We’ll be arriving at your destination when you’re good and ready.
Enjoy your life and thank you for choosing Cow-Air!
It’s going to be a little hard to type this, I fractured two of my fingers in a high speed skateboarding accident involving myself (henceforth referred to as the plaintiff) and the ground (henceforth referred to as the defendant) of which you can view the aftermath here. Not to worry, I can still draw. Pending evidence I could draw prior to the accident of course.
The defendant is expected to have a swift recovery from his or her injuries as well. I digress.
I never was a magical thinker. Never believed in the paranormal. I think that always gave everyone the impression that I was a little bit pessimistic. After all the realities of life are a large and unbearably painful fire to stand next to, one that we all have to back away from sometimes. Maybe it’s TV, games, drugs, prescriptions, sugar, attention, consumption, adrenaline, or just old fashioned debauchery and religion. The great unmet dark that we all must fill and carry appears universal, as does our need to escape it. Having recently gone through another difficult breakup, I feel its sharp and familiar pull, but I find comfort in knowing it’s a widely shared pain.
It makes me wonder sometimes if we just weren’t meant to handle all this. What if our stone age bodies are collapsing under the speed and information of it all. What in my evolution–after all–could have prepared me to even begin to grasp all the pain we now know people to be suffering every moment, every where, every day. It’s too easy to lose yourself in the sorrows.
But, I digress again.
The fact is you don’t have to believe in magic to believe in the human spirit. The placebo effect isn’t magic after all. We know to some degree of certainty that if we believe something strongly enough we can alter our very reality for the better.
That’s why I always thought that If you simply refuse to kneel to the pressures. If you just decide that there is a next chapter, if you just know that you won’t stop. Then you sit in the fires of life, but you notice they don’t burn so much. And, if you’re lucky, you might even feel warm.
What else can you do.
Illustration note: I can provide government certified documents validating that I am in fact of legal adult age for a United States citizen.
Every day you have to wake up and find your own screwed up way to make peace with the world.
Sometimes night comes fast though, and there’s nothing in sight.
So look around, gather what you can from life,
And make a screwed up peace with yourself.
Illustration notes: Personal project, 2 days to complete, Adobe Illustrator
Some nights I want to disappear, but my body won’t let me.
I’m a physical object, and not a picky one. Always harvesting energy.
The flesh of a living creature.
I’ve made choices in life, good and bad. It hasn’t.
The machine simply continues.
Illustration notes: “Stomach” Part 3 in the organ series. I’ve actually had to make two of each illustration in this series because of Adobe Illustrator issues resulting in lost work. Each illustration seems to be becoming less abstract unintentionally.
There’s a time to think about what you want, when you’re at a fork in the road.
A time to think about what others want, when you’re needed.
A time to think about how much other people want to be you–and to be with you–when you’re feeling down.
A time to feel empathy for the needs of other human beings.
People who need new things,
People who want new things,
Their own toothbrush,
A new passion,
In the end though, it’s okay to be selfish.. sometimes.
Otherwise you’d drown.
Illustration note: Pt. 2 in body symbology: “Lungs”
Well I met with the cardiologist and I guess I’m just a healthy growing boy with a large set of insignificant unexplained heart anomalies that are guaranteed to kill me at any moment.
Okay okay maybe I won’t die, but it’s a good time to reflect on the awesome complexity and fragile nature of the human body.
As a kid you play Mechwarrior, and dream about having your very own super robot. Then you grow up and realize you’ve had a super robot all along.
Just to have an operating human body, even a rough one, is an unimaginable gift. Certainly a more luxurious toy than even the rarest exotic car.
Every day when I wake up I’m the pilot.
Illustration note: The illustration above is my second metaphor of the heart. The first one was lost forever to a crashed laptop.
Maybe I talk too much.
Nah, who cares.
They were wrong about me being a negative person anyways.
I was just curious, that’s all.
The curious and the morbid were always close friends, right?
And I do have friends.
What am I some kind of new age yuppie existentialist? Nay, I am a pirate, crucified on the pillars of apathy. A fat pacific tuna, drifting through the waters of a french film noir. An anxious floorboard in Ted Nugent’s abandoned Manhatten loft. An enigma. You think you know me, but you don’t, you never will. You have no idea what I’m saying, or why I accompanied this post with an insultingly out of season ice cream illustration. When you are crying in your car on the way to work tomorrow you remember that feeling. Nothing means anything, and so everything means something.
And if today you let a sink in, make sure it’s not that.
I drew a rabbit. Then I made a rabbit pattern. Then I used it on a book. No politics, no religion, no philosophy, no humor, it’s a rabbit. If you were looking for something that wasn’t a rabbit, I’m sorry to disappoint you. It’s just a rabbit. It’s not even a well drawn rabbit. It’s a rabbit. A rabbit. Rabbit is starting to look weird, It’s sort of a weird word. Rab, bit. RABBIT. RABBITRABBITRABBIT.
Turtle coming Fall 2015.
I wrote a lot of different things here that weren’t related to each other but then I deleted them. No worries though, I feel that the image above from my notebook pretty clearly describes what I was trying to communicate to you.
I also noticed that if I make a typo while writing these posts, rather than clicking back to where the typo is I will just backspace all the way back to the typo, re-write it, and then re-write the rest of the text again. So there’s that.
I hope you found all of this educational.