Poetry By Girls I’ve Brutally Fucked

February 20, 2014

"Poetry By Girls I've Brutally Fucked." 2/7/14. Acrylic paint and ink. 12x24".
“Poetry By Girls I’ve Brutally Fucked.” 2/7/14. Acrylic paint and ink. 12×24″.

I painted this as the front and back covers for a split 7-inch by Apocalypse Meow and Todd Congelliere, coming soon from Rad Girlfriend Records. It’s the first time I’ve done a commissioned piece in my regular/preferred expressive style instead of taking the more labored cartoon/comic approach.

The caption says: “I was talking to this girl I fucked pretty brutally. She said she wrote a poem about it. A poem about my fucking. That made me smile.”

I figured that might be a little much for a pop punk record so I replaced it with the band names for the actual record layout.

I hadn’t actually seen the poem yet when I made this, but I’ve read it since.  Turns out it’s only partially about “my fucking.” It’s actually about way more than that and way more beautiful and affectionate and insightful than I feel like I deserve. It’s really great and – in that way – makes me feel kind of shitty, even though I didn’t do anything wrong. We had sex, it was fun; we hung out, it was fun; and then we repeated that cycle a few times. I guess friendship and fucking don’t really go together without feelings developing.

I’ve been sleeping around lately, getting involved with different girls to different degrees; I’m probably asking for trouble. I’m probably about to fuck myself – one way or another. There’s a lot more I could write about all that but I don’t wanna push myself to be too honest / transparent right now. That feels okay.

There’s this one girl – I wrote (what I guess I’d call) a long prose poem about her and about my experience with her in the week after we met. I’d developed feelings of my own for her [how novel!] But I was conscious of the fact that – this sort of thing – it does happen fairly often with me. I wrote a little bit about that as well:

I’ve got these fucking warm, fuzzy feelings for a lot of people. My male friends – I love them, I hug them, all that. But when I have these feelings for girls (it doesn’t matter how many) I love them and I also want to kiss them, sleep with them. I don’t think that’s wrong or weird but you’re not supposed to do that. You’re supposed to have feelings for one person that are strong enough that you don’t even want to connect with another person in that way. That seems like bullshit.

I don’t know… maybe I’m just selfish. Love and sex are all twisted up and make for difficultly-navigable terrain. I just wanna love and fuck without being confused.

The Most Efficient Path to Loneliness

January 22, 2014

"The Most Efficient Path to Loneliness." 1/22/13. Ink. 7¼x9½".
“The Most Efficient Path to Loneliness.” 1/22/13. Ink. 7¼x9½”.

I’m still outta town. Mechanical problems are slowing me down. Not sure when I’ll have them resolved. I still plan on hitting the other coast of Florida before heading back to Jacksonville but I don’t yet know when that will be. I had wanted to get to St Louis this weekend as well (to see The Transgressions reunion set at Stay Retarded). Doesn’t look like that’s within the realm of possibility anymore. Had told Ben I’d plug that set on here… not sure that this counts. Sorry, buddy. I know I’m a little late…

Before I left Jacksonville I was THISCLOSE to being done with my latest (and largest to date) painting. I’m kind of bummed that I’ve now been away from it for so long. I really wish it had been completed before I got on the road.

In the meantime, I’ve been working on other pieces. I finished one that was started more than a month ago. Another that began on the 4th. I even made some progress on a third that I had lost track of in November. Those will all go online soon enough (I really hate posting from the road on my phone and without the ability to get decent photographs or scans).

In the meantime, here’s a new one that I started on the 19th, while sitting out by the bay, late at night. I finished it just now, which seems sort of appropriate. It’s hard to explain (or maybe I just don’t want to). The feelings I’m feeling, the circumstances of that night and this one. I’m kind of dancing around my own insecurity. I think I got honest when I was scribbling but it’s hard to know sometimes. This whole week has been a strange experience and it’s only looking to get stranger in the coming days. There have been plenty of solid healthy (non-manic) emotional highs, absolutely no bottom-of-the-barrel-“time to kill myself” lows; there’s been good judgment, questionable judgment, self-improvement, honest reflection, self-delusion, avoidance; basically, I got the whole fucking gamut covered.

I wrote some shit “in between the lines” of my drawing. It touches on some of the above but it was pretty stream-of-consciousness and it’s way more representative of the moment tonight than it is of my trip as a whole (up to this point). It says…

Watch me fly. If you wanted to see me but didn’t, it’s your fault. Word has it that I’ve become a pretty great guy but might be completely sociopathic. I’m so full of hurt and evil. I try to do the right things. With mixed results.

I hurt a lot so I hurt a lot. It’s ’cause I hurt a lot. I hurt a lot. I hurt a lot.

I’m so melodramatic. I’m fucking fine (I think). Why do I wanna be this tragic fucking figure? Celebrity. Icon. Shining shooting fucking star. I’m so in love with myself. I’m so disgusted with myself. I’m ashamed. I’m a shame. I’m a joke. I’m okay. I’m everything I don’t wanna be. I’m living out my dream. I’m losing track of everything. This is how it’s supposed to be.

I’m never satisfied. I’m filled with pride. I’m lost. I might be home. This isn’t home. I might be home. I have no home. I’m cool with that. I’m done with this drawing. I think it’s done with me.

How I Make My Soup in My Belly

January 5, 2014

I’ve got this group show coming up and, last night, the organizers hosted a reception for the artists to meet each other. One girl was in another room most of the night but I did eventually get to know her a little bit when she asked if I’d like to sit down and draw with her. As it turns out, she just tagged along and isn’t actually participating in next week’s show. Although (while I’m not sure if she meant “professionally”) she did tell me that she’s an artist.

She ALSO told me that she has two nannas (who are both very nice), that Madelyn and Mikaylyn are twins (her favorite twin is both of them), and that she likes to make her own soup in her belly. Yeah, right.  “How do you do that?” I asked incredulously. “I eat sweets and vegetables and that’s how I make my soup in my belly.” I had to concede. That’s a dynamite soup recipe if I’ve ever heard one.

So Marley’s pretty great and I’m not saying that just ’cause she gave me some of her drawings.

Marley's drawing for me. (I'm an idiot; I forgot to ask the title).

 

Is it just me or is this way too close-for-comfort to my art (considering it was drawn by someone who won’t be starting pre-kindergarten for another eight months)?

In any case, I DON”T MEAN TO BRAG but I’m pretty sure I’ve got at least a year or two before she catches up to me in terms of technical ability. I mean – she’s good, but not Sam’s-motor-skills-are-fully-developed good.

Here’s the picture I drew for her.

"How I Make My Soup In My Belly." 1/4/14. Crayon, pen, and marker. 8x10"
“How I Make My Soup In My Belly.” 1/4/14. Crayon, pen, and marker. 8×10″

Shit… Looking at these side by side… If I’m being honest, I think the only real difference is that she got bored and moved on to another drawing (and then to dancing, and then to showing me some toys, and then to watching TV) in the time that it took me to draw mine. Focus might be my only edge over Marley… If she gets a Ritalin ‘scrip when she starts school, I’m gonna be shit outta luck.

Oh well. No use in worrying today about what may or may not happen tomorrow.

What more could an idiot ask for?

January 3, 2014

6 AM. Walking home.
It’s 40 degrees outside and I still haven’t gone to bed.
Pineapple soda, a cigarette,
BRAND NEW RATIONAL ANTHEM playing in my headphones.

What more could an idiot ask for?

—–

I stayed up all night, clearing out my house,
Getting rid of the things in my life that I don’t need.
Some of it is really hard to get rid of.
I still don’t know if I’ll actually be able to part with my zine collection.
And (honestly) I haven’t even considered the records.
But I’m young, itinerant,
I’d rather not be weighed down by possessions.

Do you ever fantasize about your house burning down
And starting over with nothing?
I do.
I’m working to be okay with the idea that if something is important
It’ll come back to me.
I don’t need to cling to anything.
Or only to so much, in any case.

—–

Here’s a cartoon I drew in an Alcoholics Anonymous.
It was the second of three that night.
The third being My Favorite Cartoon.
This one’s not important.
It’s just about me,
Being a resentful little jerk-off.

"Broken Records." 1/15/13. Pen on scrap. 5x3½".
“Broken Records.” 1/15/13. Pen on scrap. 5×3½”.

There’s no way for me to explain what I was thinking when I drew this without sounding like an asshole. Which is okay – after all – sometimes I’m an asshole!

This kid was rambling on and every word out of his mouth reeked of “here’s some shit I heard some other clueless bastard say at a meeting, so now I’m gonna repeat it at all of you so that I can walk back to my halfway house confident that you guys will think I’ve really got a handle on this recovery thing.”

Which – who knows – maybe that’s me projecting. Or maybe it’s just me being bitter about some girl not paying enough attention to me. And – honestly – what the fuck should I even care? I guess it’s easy to fall into this kind of judgmental/negative thought when you’re compelled to go to more meetings than you’d otherwise elect to on your own. I might have needed that many at one point early on (or I might not have) but by this time last year, I was definitely ready to move on to the next phase. And within a month I had done just that.

Cool!

—–

Some (more recent) pieces on the subject of twelve-step groups are Save Yourself and Snowflakes Anonymous.

Another reason I love punk rock (and the world)

December 31, 2013

There was a little confusion at the printer and – after getting home – I had to turn around and go right back. I got everything sorted/fixed (free of charge!) and flipped on the new Iron Chic album, The Constant One, as I made my way home. I like to put off listening to albums until I have a physical copy and can sit down with it but it’s been long enough that I didn’t wanna wait anymore. (Money’s not too tight but tight enough that I’ve had to put off picking up a few records that I’d have otherwise bought by now).

The first song, “The End,” is a fairly ambient intro to the record and it was the perfect soundtrack as I made my way down the quiet little backstreets of Riverside. Under a perfect grey sky, I passed a kid sitting on the sidewalk with a book.

After just one minute, “Bogus Journey” kicked in and I had a thought about the guitar tone. It’s different, which is kind of cool. We don’t need to reinvent the wheel here but it’s nice when someone puts a little bit of thought into making something interesting.

But guitar tones aren’t really important. What is important is that I had a big grin on my face before Lubrano had even started singing. This song just sounds joyful. I became conscious of my smile and it grew even more. And then I laughed out loud. This is wonderful.

I love punk rock.

—–

Here’s a piece with the same kind of sentiment as Everything Works Out Exactly As It Should that I painted in March, as a gift for someone that needed it.

"Leaky Sinks and Stupid Fucking Garbage Disposals." 3/18/13. Watercolor and ink on canvas. 5 ½x13 ½.".
“Leaky Sinks and Stupid Fucking Garbage Disposals.” 3/18/13. Watercolor and ink on canvas. 5 ½x13 ½.”.

 

  • Iron Chic are building a discography out of the basic idea that life is ordinary most of the time. Buy their latest album, The Constant One, on CD or LP here.
  • I’m building a portfolio out of the basic idea that I don’t have to be a fuck-up anymore. Buy some of my art here.

Limp

December 29, 2013

"Limp." 4/28/13. Acrylic paint. 12x12".
“Limp.” 4/28/13. Acrylic paint. 12×12″.

In my mind, the word “limp” is usually an adjective associated with something weak or ineffectual (like a wiener, you guys!) but it’s also a verb (Professor North’s dropping knowledge today!) and – in that sense – it’s got a very different kind of connotation. You limp when you’re hurt – when you’re struggling – but what’s important is that you’re still going in spite of whatever’s slowing you down.

When I did Crafty Fest at Artpool, I met some good people, including an artist named William Somma. He does mostly abstract paintings with lots of neon and fluorescent colors, which I liked a lot. (Before I met Will, I didn’t even know they made paint like that; that day, he let me use some for my first time). He also asked if I’d be interested in collaborating on a painting. He started it off and once his paint was dry, handed over the canvas for me do with it what I might. I had never done anything collaborative before and I didn’t quite know how to go at it. That coupled with the fact that I didn’t want to disappoint Will made it a little bit of a difficult process. I didn’t know where I was going and I wasn’t used to working with the anticipation of someone else’s reaction or response in mind. But I kept at it all the same until I finally had something I thought we could both be proud of.

While it wasn’t exactly the greatest mountain I had ever scaled, “limp” came to mind and it felt right. In a sense, being out in the world – creating and selling art like this – was a culmination of more than two years I had spent limping. Or – it would have been if I weren’t still limping. Which isn’t a complaint; it’s just what I do. And it’s working out.

——

There is (or at least used to be) a band called Fiya that had a handful of really excellent songs. When I heard a couple of those kids had started a new band (Nervous Dogs) with one of the guys from Grabass Charlestons (a band I really liked), I picked up their 7-inch immediately.

Avenida Sevilla is three songs and, if I’m being totally honest, the first two didn’t really do a lot for me – but the third was one of the most beautiful songs I had ever heard and (nearly eight years later) remains a favorite.

At $2.70, it’s way  than worth picking up. I couldn’t find the song online though so I threw a few images together and dropped it on YouTube myself.

“Walk With Difficulty” by Nervous Dogs
Dad was looking at my brother and at me and said, “I don’t know what I’d do – or if I’d even try to fight a thing like this disease – if I didn’t have the two of you.” He used to go out running in the mornings before work but he walks with difficulty now. But he walks anyhow…

—–

I’m Sorry

December 28, 2013

"I'm Sorry." 12/26/13. Pen and markers. 6½x9½".
“I’m Sorry.” 12/26/13. Pen and markers. 6½x9½”.

This is the other new piece from Thursday night – the one that’s mean and shitty and makes me not like myself.

I’ve been arguing with myself for longer than I want to admit – whether or not I should break up with my girlfriend. This drawing is something I scribbled out in between some petty bickering and a more serious conversation about the future of our relationship. That conversation yielded its own piece (“Going to Charlotte”) which I started while we were still talking. It’s not all that different but it doesn’t make me feel like as much of an asshole as this one does. The text here (ordered as written) reads:

I feel small and trapped and I don’t really care about the saga of the customer with the unreasonable return and what happened with the credit card company and the store credit and the employee and fifteen dollars. That shit is boring and I don’t know – maybe my shit is boring to you (I DON’T KNOW) but this sucks and I’m annoyed by you and am… Fuck…

I just realized something… Even when we’re getting along, I’m never excited for your days off work. I don’t look forward to your getting home each night. And the times I feel very in love with and happy to be around you are greatly outnumbered by the times I spend wishing you’d go to work or go to sleep so I can just be without you. But you’re so fucking sweet and I’m the one that wanted you. There’s nothing wrong with you. I feel awful. I’m lucky to have you but you don’t deserve me. You can do so much better. I’M SORRY.

“Diaper Baby” by Sass Dragons seems appropriate right now…

I don’t care. I want attention. It doesn’t matter just where it comes from.
I’m as needy as the day I was born. Like a crying baby.
SOMEBODY CHANGE ME. 

—–

28 [image]

Before I went to bed at 8 AM, I uploaded the new high-resolution photos of 28 and Eradicating the Threat of Happiness.

Both are available in my webstore, as are prints of these newer pieces.

Eradicating the Threat of Happiness [image]

The good people of the Wunderground collective have been sweet enough to include me in their quarterly event at 1904 Music Hall. If you’re in/near Jacksonville, come hang out with me on January 11th. Art, music, burlesque, spoken word, food… IT’LL BE AN EVENING.

wunderground-flier

Update (April 2025): This drawing just went up on display in THE RINGLING MUSEUM OF ART. ‘Cause – y’know – my work is so EDIFYING. I can’t wait ’til it’s being taught in schools.

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