Consumer of judgment.
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.
Things we think we know about a person, relative to what we think we know about ourselves, relative to what we think we know about the world.
Ghosts, judging ghosts, judging dust.
So I stopped trying to answer their questions.
Even better, I stopped trying to explain myself to myself.
I built my own monolith in a field.
Mountains from dirt.
Incredible for no reason, and to no person.
Winds in any direction still lift, after all.
So tell me, what’s the difference.
Better yet, don’t.
It can be a little unnerving when the walls you spent so long building up get washed away in a high tide. Like you’re building with sand, and making no progress.
It’s no matter though, you always knew the walls were built out of sand.
You don’t find comfort in thinking they’ll protect you from getting washed away.
You find comfort in knowing they can be rebuilt.
Image note: This is a re-work of my previous post ‘Tracheal’ in preparation for its addition to the Super National store on Society6. All new colors and textures in 6k resolution for those who enjoy scrutiny! I actually ended up liking it a lot more than the original.
Super Nervous Cow is–for the first time–actually selling something! Say hello to my new store ‘Super National’ on Society6 and get free shipping with this unique link: http://bit.ly/2avo2x3 (Limited time).
There are currently three prints available for a limited run in various customized formats. I’ve started illustrating in nearly 6000 x 6000 px to make sure the larger prints and small prints alike are crisp as morning dew.
I hope you enjoy! Look here for extras and all the usual art of course.