Says: “I don’t accept what you consider fact, truth, or reality. But I do believe in freedom right now. And I’m gonna do my best to try to be happy. I’ll let you know how it works out.”
It was in response to being told that – what I’m doing / how I’m living – is okay for now but will have to end really soon. That I’ll need to get a real job or learn to draw boardwalk caricatures.
“Whatevermind.” 5/12/13. Pen. 9×10¼”.
I drew this “for” the insert for (Rational Anthem’s) Whatevermind LP, but decided that it didn’t fit and – beyond that – almost seemed antithetical to it.
Actually, I just remembered: this didn’t start out as an expressive piece, I had something in mind, but I made a mistake (and since I was using ink, I couldn’t correct it) so I just worked around it and it turned into this.
We’re en route to Des Moines. Show tonight should be good. Rational, Copyrights, Tight Bros, and Lipstick Homicide. Kind of strange though: doors at 4, show at 5, and it’s 21+.
Found out The Heat Tape got added to the show tomorrow in Carbondale. Their album was my favorite thing on the planet that first week in Sarasota to make “No Real Than You Are.” It was actually when one of those songs came up in my headphones and I didn’t immediately feel great that I knew something was wrong. I wanted the feeling back – the one that I had gotten, riding around town listening to that album just a few days earlier. Raccoon Valley Recordings (and my response to it) were literally my mental health gauge.
I once pitched “Another Successful Human Interaction” as a song title to Chris (for Rational Anthem). That’s the phrase that’s in my head again right now. I’m sure it’ll strike anyone that knows me as pretty absurd, but (as if I hadn’t covered this just earlier today) I get nervous in social situations sometimes. And when I have conversations that I can walk away from without feeling embarrassed, I feel proud of myself. Self-esteem requires a lot of maintenance, but (having a little bit these days) I can… it’s… I don’t know. I guess what I wanna say is that I’m able to use it to build up more. Just by having *some*, I’m able to develop more.
And it’s an easy slip, a fast fall, back to zero, but it’s not *really* zero anymore, even if it feels that way sometimes.
The Slow Death are playing soon and I’m excited to see them.
Just now – wanting to include a piece of art in this entry since I’m trying to get it all up on the site, piece by piece – I checked to see what I had photos of on my phone. This one seems appropriate.
“I’m Building Up To Something.” 6/3/13. Crayon and digital. 8×10″.
I drew this with crayons in group back when I still lived at Tranquil Shores. Later, I played with it on the computer and turned it into something else. When I get home, I’ll add a photo of the original to this entry (if I have one, which I may not). In either case, I’ll upload a bigger picture of the “computerized” version. (That’s something I’ll have to do with everything I’m posting from the road). I can’t recall the specifics of why I was drawing in group on the day that I made this because I don’t know what day that was. Again, when I’m home, I’ll look into it. But I remember feeling a little inadequate, but – at the same time – a little hopeful. Like, “I may not be much now, but… you’ll see.” I guess I could call it a “letter to my detractors” of sorts. And – as noted – the original is entirely crayon – which I think is sort of perfect for this. I could call it “naive,” I could call it “immature,” but I’d rather call it innocent. I like that.
Chris is vomiting out the window on our way to Grumpy’s. We’re pulling over so Pete can drive. Today is going to be an excellent day. For so many reasons.
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This summer, I spent four weeks in Sarasota working on “No Real Than You Are,” a short film in which I had been cast. The last stuff filmed (on the last day of principal photography) were the exterior shots of a house party. My character had no dialogue but it was important for the audience to see that my character is there, at the party. So even though I had nothing to do, I had to be present so the camera could pick up on me at some point, if only for a second.
I had the lead male role in the movie. Throughout filming, everyone on the production team treated me like I was the coolest motherfucker on the planet. It was easy to feel important. (I wasn’t/I’m not, but in the context of this film: sure). Since this was a party scene though – and since I had no important part in it – there were a ton of random people on set and, so far as they all knew, I was just another extra.
For most people, I have a feeling that none of this would be an issue. But – for me – it kind of was. It’s embarrassing, but I’m not good in situations where I’m just an anonymous part of the crowd. I need to have something to do, to somehow stand apart. At shows, since I don’t play them myself these last few years, I need to be selling records or working the door, or – at least – have someone to hang with (with whom I’m thoroughly comfortable and at ease). Otherwise, I have to go hide out somewhere every so often, if only for a little bit.
But I couldn’t do any of those things here. There was no performance required of me. There were no records to sell. The people I knew (the production team) were busy with the scene. And the people I didn’t know… I don’t want to be judgmental and I’m sure anything I was picking up on was more about my own state of mind then anything they were doing…. But it might be possible that there was something to it. After all, it’s a little strange that – in the city in which I grew up – of the people that came to this party (even if it was a *fake* party) I didn’t know a single person. These were the people that came out to a fake party on a Thursday night so that they could be be seen in frame in this movie. And that strikes me as a really shitty thing to say and I know I should be grateful that they came because the movie needed them. You can’t film a party without people. And shit – I’m sure a lot of them came out just for that reason; some of them were probably there just to support the film.
Really I’m just trying to explain (or justify) why I didn’t make new friends by talking to some of the people around me. It’s my own failing.
Instead, I sat there with a pen and paper, isolating myself as a hundred people excitedly milled around me, until I felt like it was reasonable to ask the unit production manager to prod the director and cinematographer in my direction, so they could get whatever the shots they needed. And I asked her to “find me a friend” – someone for my character to talk to, so that he wouldn’t appear to be as much of a mentally disturbed, self-absorbed twerp as the actor playing him. (For that “role,” we recruited the producer. It was good; he got a cameo and I didn’t have to talk to anyone I didn’t already know).
It’s not that I think I’m “better” than other people, it’s just that I’m (sometimes) terrified of them.
Here’s what I drew as I sat alone at the party.
“I Don’t Do Well With Crowds.” 7/16/13. Pen. 8×11½”.
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And here’s another similar drawing from another similar night.
“I Don’t Go Out Much.” 5/18/13. Pen on scrap. 3×4¼”.
“Spotlight on Mental Illness b/w Drink Bleach + The Barney Generation.” 4/27/13. Acrylics and ink. 12×12″.
I made this piece on the least successful of my four art-fair-days back in St. Pete. The text on the left says, “Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I’ll go drink bleach.” From the top, it’s a little more sincere.
Embarrassingly so, actually. It says, “I think I’m special and that my artwork is really different and really great. I think my story is really interesting. I don’t know how much of that is self-esteem, how much is pride, and how much can be chalked up to my being a member of the Barney generation. I get really impatient though. I suffer from the same sense of entitlement as the other brats my age.”
Went to the Hexagon last night for the first Dave Strait Fest show. It was cool and it was fun and it was really great getting to see a lot of the people I haven’t seen in the last two years. Everyone was really sweet and supportive and – though it shouldn’t have – it made me a little uncomfortable at times. Not because of anything that anyone said or did, but my own response to it. It’s still hard sometimes for me to receive that kind of support/encouragement/love. I wanna say “thank you” because that’s how I feel – I feel grateful. But at the same time, I still struggle with whether or not I really deserve that kind of love and support so I get kind of awkward and sometimes sort of dismiss it with a shrug and a little self-deprecation. I need to be more cognizant of my behavior in those situations and force myself to respond authentically and gratefully.
I saw Ryan, one of my best friends from when I was living in DC. He invited me to come hang out with him at Extreme Noise today, but we’re staying on the outskirts of the city so I’m not able to get over that way until we all head out for the show tonight. We talked a good deal last night though and, at some point, he mentioned the “Diazepam” painting/blog entry. No one said anything when that went online, but it made me realize that more people probably saw it and were affected by it then I thought. I think I might have alienated some people with that. I think people were/are disappointed in me for that slip. But it happened and I’m glad that I was able to be honest about it, even if it is damaging to people’s impressions of me. I’m not proud of my behavior that day but I’m not upset that it happened either. It is. It’s real. I’m not perfect and while I’d like to be the shining-star-success-story that everyone can be proud of… this is real life. It’s not a narrative in three acts with simple conflict and resolution. Sometimes the path winds, sometimes things get messy.
None of this is to suggest that Ryan made me feel this way. It was just in his bringing it up that I got to thinking about it. Sometimes I’m so caught up in each new day that I forget that I have a past and that certain impressions from different days will last longer than the time between each post to my website. And – let’s be real – I’m talking about something that happened two weeks ago. It may feel like a lifetime to me, but – really, in some ways, it might as well have been two days ago.
I don’t want to take my focus off of myself, but there were two people I saw last night that … sparked different sorts of thought or concern. (A luxury for someone like me, I know). One, a close friend; the other, an acquaintance. I journaled a lot about it last night, but I don’t think there’s any way to share any of that without compromising somebody else’s privacy.
I know I’m not the champion of mental health, but I’ve got a little something and it makes me sad when I can’t give that to someone I care about. I wish there was more that I could do to help. Maybe there is, but I don’t know what it looks like. I might have to risk hurting some feelings for the sake of honesty. That’s being a better friend than keeping my mouth shut and letting someone fall apart without so much as a word. I’m not talking about “calling anyone out” but just genuinely expressing real concern. I need to tell the people that I care about that I care about them.
Anyway, I’m doing well and I’m looking forward to the rest of my day, which has already been nice so far. Andrea, Mike, and I went to the grocery store and brought back a feast of a breakfast, which Pete, Luke, and I then cooked up. Right now, everyone’s just resting up for tonight or doing their own thing. We’re staying at Natalie’s house with Servo and the Lipstick Homicide kids and it’s really nice and relaxed. It’s pleasant. Sometimes, on tour, in someone else’s home, it’s easy (for me anyway) to feel like an imposition or intruder, but Natalie does a great job of making everyone feel welcome and at ease.
Hit me up if you wanna buy this painting (assuming no one else has yet) or a 12×12″ print.
The tenth and final painting in my series, “The Weak End,” says: “When I think about hurting you, I get really excited.” People always think thatt’s an expression of anger, directed at someone I don’t like. Which couldn’t be more wrong. The title, “Hard Feelings,” is an allusion to a Radon lyric: “The only hard feelings that I’ve got are in my front pocket.”
Some of us are sicker than others. I’m cool with it.
If I can be sincere for just one second though, I used to think there was something wrong with me. Punk rock taught me that traditional gender roles and power dynamics are totally fucked and I let that influence my attitudes and behavior, even in the bedroom, for a long time. When it comes to sex though, I don’t feel guilty anymore about what I’m into and what I want to do. I’m still figuring it out and I might find a “line” at some point but (thus far) the more freely I feel able to express myself sexually, the better the outcome seems to be.
And no one’s even been seriously injured yet! So… you know… that seems like a good thing too.
I’m still a little uncomfortable talking about sex – well, when I’m talking to the fucking internet anyway. But I’m getting better. I mean, wrote this much, right?
—–
Status update: Tour’s been a lot of fun so far. En route to Minneapolis right now, running late of course, but I’m not stressed about it.
Got to hang out last night with the St. Louis crew. Saw The Humanoids play for the first time and got a copy of their LP, which was – at one point – slated to be on Traffic Street. After the show, Noelle and company drove to Iowa. Pete, Chris, and I stuck around. Hung out at Darren’s bar then stayed over at Shaun’s house, where he and I explained to Chris that Blink 182 and Fleetwood Mac aren’t punk bands.
I could go on, but this stuff’s not of any tremendous significance. What matters is that it’s good and that I’m happy and grateful to be where I’m at, with the people I’m with. Old friends and new friends. Looking forward to a lot more of that tonight and in the days to come.
I feel pretty good today. Not manically good, not hyper-excellent, but just good. Nothing is bothering me or clawing at me. It’s been a while since I painted. I made one piece on the 3rd, but it’s for a record so I’m not able to share it until the release is announced. Still, that was a week ago, so last night I decided to try and paint. Rather than take out a blank canvas, I pulled out one that I had painted a few months back but didn’t really care for. I repainted it and then decided to let what I had dry before I kept going with it. So I pulled out a second piece and repainted that And then decided to let that one dry too. Then I took out a piece that I started when I was sitting on the ledge, looking out over the water, and really having a hard time. I didn’t finish any of them last night.
Today I picked that first one back up and I guess it’s sort of finished now. It doesn’t look quite like my other pieces. Most noticeably, it’s missing any text. Well, it says “OKAY,” but not in any way that most people would spot it. I spent a lot of time on it, but it doesn’t seem quite right. I think that – maybe – I need to move away from paints for a little bit and work with a less fluid medium. And maybe work on some less abstract kinds of projects. I have some cartoons in my head that I’ve been meaning to draw, so it might be a good time to actually put those down on paper.
“Okay.” August 10th, 2013. Acrylics and resin sand on a stretched canvas. 10×13″.
I reflected on how I’m feeling – on how I’m doing, overall – and I decided that I’m okay. During the painting process, I made myself look at the areas of my life that are… awry – in one sense or another. To see if maybe I could pull that into the painting and work with it. The only thing that came to mind was family. I’m not on speaking terms with two of my three siblings. I’m not on speaking terms with my mom. And the last interaction I had with my dad was earlier in the week, via text, and I told him to “fuck off.” And haven’t talked to him since then.
My dad’s done a lot for me lately, so I feel like I need to take a step to repair that but, at the same time, he said something that upset me. Still, “fuck off” probably wasn’t the correct response to that. I guess if I think about it – in each of these situations – I’m waiting for the other person to make it better when – really – if I want it to be better, I should probably take responsibility for that myself.
Which isn’t to say that I want to do that in each case. While it’d be pretty great if I could have good relationships with my parents and siblings, I’m not entirely sure that it’s even possible. Actually, I’m quite certain that it’s not. And that’s okay. I’m not aware of any rule that says I have to get along with everyone I’m related to. Life is easier without some of these people. And while – generally – I’m not interested in taking “easy ways out,” I can’t take on everything. Everyone has a breaking point. Somewhere along the line, what I know (or even what I want) doesn’t matter anymore. I get overwhelmed and negative feelings take hold. I’m not going to push myself into dealing with things that have the potential to ruin my day. Not today anyway. Outcomes aren’t guaranteed and now matter how I approach it…
[I’m done talking about this now]
I’m not stressed out about money anymore. Everything worked out this week and I don’t have a reason to be anymore. Which is a relief. And I’m grateful for that. I have all of the tools I need to maintain an income right now, I just need to remember to use them. For example, I still have a box of antique dolls and other stuff given to me (to sell on eBay) that I get to keep a share of the profits on. Granted, spending time creating eBay listings isn’t all that different from any other job, but I can do it on my own schedule and take time out for myself when I need it.
Having an online journal is tricky. When I was keeping a journal just for myself (with no intention of ever sharing it at all) I wrote differently. There are things I’d mention and things I wouldn’t. There are definitely more substantial, personal examples I could come up with, but – for example – Mike sent me the new Like Bats EP yesterday and it’s really awesome. And if this were a private journal, right now I’d be writing about why I think it’s awesome. But there’s something awkward about switching gears like that, here, online. Similarly, I joked with myself a lot more in my private journal, but – in this context – I find myself forcing myself to be serious so much of the time. Which just isn’t fun. And I like having fun.
Okay, I feel better about it now. That statement alone made me feel better about it. I’m gonna go listen to the Like Bats EP really loudly, smoke a cigarette, and then work on something else for a while. Today’s been good so far and I’m gonna keep it that way.
Oh – also, the fourth painting from “The Weak End” series in in the Gallery. If you don’t see the statement when you click this link, it’s just because you need to scroll down a little bit.
“Portraits of God, Nothing, and Fear.” February 16th, 2013. Acrylics and gold ink on cardboard. 15×19”.
The third painting of ten in my series, “The Weak End,” created in the last few days of my seven months living in Tranquil Shores’ inpatient facility.
The text in this piece (though barely legible) says, “I’ve basically stopped praying. I do (maybe) three real meetings each week. I don’t EVER think of you. And ‘you’ isn’t even you.”
By early February, I wasn’t technically inpatient anymore. Though I lived on property and was subject to a lot of the same rules as before, I had some special privileges. For example, I was still required to go to at least five meetings a week, but I no longer had to go with everyone else. If I could transport myself, I could go to whatever meetings I wanted, so long as I signed in and out, came back on time, had it approved by my counselor, etc.
On the night that I painted this, I left for a meeting. It was only my sixth one on my own. And I ran out of gas on the way there. For the third time. There were no gas stations in that area, but I was still really close to Tranquil Shores. I was too embarrassed to go back and admit that I had fucked up again though, and in such a basic/stupid way. I decided to hide out in a parking lot until the time when I was scheduled to return from the meeting. But then I got anxious and snuck back onto property early so I could go back to painting. Later, I pretended that I had just forgotten to sign back in.
I didn’t write a statement on this piece back in February and I don’t think I journaled that night either. I wish I had because I don’t even know who the “you” that I “wasn’t thinking about” is. If I had to guess, it was a girl, but it could have been any one of three girls that I would have been having thoughts like this about at the time.
—–
This was my favorite song that week. I was listening to it at least five or ten times a day.
