(I’m) So Smart (I Got Life Lessons Dripping Out My Butthole)

Inpatient facility. 2012. The assignment was to write a list of ten “core beliefs” – my absolute truths – through which I filter every experience. They were pretty dark. 

  • #1: I am ugly.
  • #2: I am a problem. 
  • #5: I am only tolerated.
  • #10: Nothing matters.

But there was one out of the ten that was positive.

  • #4: I am smart.
“So Smart” | 11/23/2025 | acrylics and pigment ink on canvas | 12 x 36 in

When I was a kid, I thought I was so smart that things would just sorta work out for me no matter what. I ignored all conventional advice. Took nothing seriously. 

As a teenager, I told my dad that I’d been shooting heroin for a year, (I think mostly) just to see how he’d respond. He kinda sighed and said, “Well, at least you’re not smoking crack. I hear that’s the drug that will hook you immediately and destroy your life.” 

So the next day, I smoked crack for the first time, just to prove my dad wrong. Everything everyone believed was wrong. I was smarter than everyone.

When I was first introduced to “expressive art therapy,” my response was something along the lines of: “I’m a suicidal basketcase, I can’t keep a needle out of my arm, and you want me to color? Go fuck yourself.”

But treatment pushes the idea that you’re “powerless over your addiction.” That you can’t solve the problem on your own. Eventually (VERY SLOWLY) I became more receptive to taking advice even when I thought it was stupid and pointless.

Art, it turned out, could keep a needle out of my arm. It went from being a frustrating chore to all I wanted to do. It gave me an outlet to express myself, validation, and (something that at least resembles) self-esteem. And eventually it gave me a path. It gave me tasks and goals – a fucking to-do list to keep me busy and off drugs, while also supporting me financially. It gave me freedom from addiction, from poverty, and from the kinds of jobs I’ve never wanted and could never do.

That kid who thought everything would work out for him on the basis of his SPARKLING WIT and KEEN INSIGHT – he was a fucking idiot. Things have not all worked out for me. I spent years living in hell.

But I don’t anymore. Shit is working out. And as hard and as often as I work, it could be argued that I’m kinda skating through life on personality. Even the work I don’t enjoy, it’s all in service of something I love.

With all the money and praise regularly FED to me by strangers, all the people who look to me for advice or tell me how brilliant some painting, writing, or element of my business model is, it’s easy sometimes to feel like I just might be SO SMART I GOT LIFE LESSONS DRIPPING OUT MY BUTTHOLE.

That said, all of this is built around something I’d initially rejected with total contempt. So it’s maybe not the worst idea for me to remind myself of the remote possibility that – despite my REMARKABLE LIFE EXPERIENCE and the TREMENDOUS WISDOM I regularly bestow – I maybe don’t know everything about everything.

MAYBE.


Statement is done. Tap here to read the personal updates that will soon embarrass me.


I Took a Picture of You While You Were Sleeping Because I Think You’re Extraordinarily Beautiful and Because I’m Kind of a Creep Insofar as My Respect For (or Maybe Just Conception of) Personal Boundaries Leaves Something to Be Desired; Also: Slumber Party!

"I Took a Picture of You While You Were Sleeping Because I Think You're Extraordinarily Beautiful and Because I'm Kind of a Creep Insofar as My Respect For (or Maybe Just Conception of) Personal Boundaries Leaves Something to Be Desired; Also: Slumber Party!" 3/8/13. Oil pastel, tempera, pencil. 7x18".
3/8/13. Oil pastel, tempera, pencil. 7×18″.

Gift Horse” was the best birthday present I’ve ever given to anyone. I don’t mean for the recipient – but for me. Because there’s nothing better in the world than going into the bedroom at night or waking up in the morning to find Heather fast asleep cuddled up with it in her arms. When I see that, I feel so loved. I mean – I’m not the horse but (maybe because I made it[?]) it feels like I’m getting to look at her cuddled up to me…. [or something like that…]  – that’s the best explanation I can come up with anyway. But she’s so beautiful and she hugs it (even in her sleep) with such conviction that… – it’s just really nice. It makes me really happy.

I love her a lot.

And I don’t wanna disturb her by turning on the lights just to take a picture but, luckily, I have this one from a few weeks ago.

heather pierce
9/22/13.

And – just this moment – I’ve realized that this is the perfect opportunity to share a piece that I haven’t yet… [yes – the one with the title]. “Took a Picture” was the product of one of my Friday afternoon expressive art therapy groups, back when I was in outpatient mode. Earlier that day…

I opened my eyes and looked over at Heather. “Do you know how much you laugh in your sleep?” she asked. I smiled. “Is it a sinister, maniacal laugh? Do I sound like I’m plotting evil?” She laughed. “Not at all. It’s really happy. You sound really happy.” “Hmmm, well – don’t tell anyone that… or  tell them, but say that my eyes are open at the time – my cold, dead eyes.” She rolled hers at me.

Heather didn’t have to work early that day but – when she did have an early morning shift – she’d only come sleep over the night before if I agreed to “no funny business.” Of course, I would promise. And though I don’t think I ever once actually honored that promise, she’d take my word for it every time (like a total sucker). And even once I did go to sleep, she said I’d sometimes contort and throw my body across the mattress like a maniac. What a joy it must have been to share a bed with me!

It hadn’t even been three weeks since I moved out of Tranquil Shores and back into the real world. How was my life this wonderful already? How could I possibly deserve to be waking up next to this girl each day?

This piece existed in a strange limbo for a long time because I titled it as soon as I finished it and immediately wished that I had used the title for the caption as well. Because the original caption – though based in authenticity – felt contrived. I wrote it without forethought in a “stream of consciousness”  sorta way, but I had essentially quoted myself… which I didn’t like at all. I had this “rule” though – against altering anything once I had deemed it finished. Eventually, I got over that and – now – the title and caption are one in the same and the piece finally feels right.

  • That original caption was: “She stays over even though I keep her up. (I’m a sexual terrorist). And when I sleep, I thrash. And I laugh. A lot. Not with cold, dead eyes. It’s joyful. Don’t fucking repeat that.”
  • took-a-picture-framedThis piece is available as a 14×6″ print.
  • The original drawing is also for sale but given its strange dimensions, the frame isn’t quite right. Then again, it looks kinda cool like this…
  • Check out “Gift Horse,” the catalyst for this entry.

Ready When You Are

"Ready When You Are." 6/7/13. Oil pastel. 9½x12”.
“Ready When You Are.” 6/7/13. Oil pastel. 9½x12”.

It was Friday so I drove up to Tranquil Shores for my session with Tracy and my weekly expressive art group with the kids that were still inpatients. Earlier that week, I had found an apartment in Jacksonville. When I told Tracy, she was really surprised. (I had been talking about moving, but it was just a few days prior that I actually started looking for a place, so it all happened really quickly). “Seriously?” she asked me. “Well, let me get the papers for your discharge.”

Somehow that hadn’t occurred to me: that moving away would mean I’d be officially discharged from Tranquil Shores. My life was about to change and it was just now registering. It made me sad. It even made me a little angry, though I’m not sure with whom. (Probably myself). It was a really great afternoon; everyone at Tranquil Shores couldn’t have been sweeter to me or more supportive. But… I didn’t wanna leave. I didn’t want it to be over and I guess I was as caught off-guard as Tracy had been.

After my session, I went into the art room for group. I felt good overall, but had that little streak of darkness in me. I got an idea in my head of a sorta vulture and I liked it. I wanted to draw something that lived off dead flesh – something sustained by failure.

But still sorta comic and fun.

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(Especially relevant) status update: Heather’s friends are getting married in Englewood next weekend, so I won’t be too far from Tranquil Shores. On Friday, I’m going to drive up that way and meet up with a crew of kids I went to treatment with for lunch, and then I’m gonna go in for the expressive art group just like I used to. I’ve been really excited about it but am getting more nervous as it gets closer. It’s gonna be a totally new crop of kids. I’ll still know all the staff obviously, but it seems kinda strange to go to group with a bunch of patients I’ve never met before. I hope I don’t wimp out. I hope it goes well.

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