I live under bridges sometimes when I visit my hometown.. mostly when I'm looking to catch a freight train outta here. Here is a sticker I put up under one of them. I think I don't care about being good or creative with art any more. And that might be a good thing. We'll see. I'm gonna put up some more on my adventures east. Love you.
| so a few months ago i was heading home to new orleans and fell off a train. in Las Vegas. it was beyond dumb and i'm beyond lucky to be alive and with limbs. i'm beyond lucky for my amazing angels/friends. the thing is, i came back up to portland for what i thought, the most noble and destiny-inspired of things. and perhaps, sure, ego driven as well; an art show in the pearl disctrict of portland oregon, a blossoming capital of the art world in america. my first actual solo gallery show. big deal for a kid who has lived on the streets more or less since he was a child, who has always dreamed of a better life without compromise of his self. but i'm a sensitive as fuck artist queer. people are harsh, i feel misanthropic and long for the warm people and life of new orleans.. i've made three sheets of paper, painted nothing on one sheet, collected three bibles (germanenglishspanish) to shred in front of your eyes for another sheet. here i am, most likely throwing everything away because im too weak. too weak to stay here. despite the richness of this life. portland is gorgeous and green and full of life and privileged EVERYTHING. perhaps is my self destructive nature. born bad, aint it a sin? perhaps i have a better life waiting for me and my body just knows it. perhaps i miss giant cockroaches and mosquito bites. i'm leaving oregon. it's possible i can finish the paper, paint the rest and submit my work to joseph at timeshare gallery, but actually i might not give a shit at all. i love joey, i love art, i love you, i love or at least want to validate my love for you creeps. believe it or not. i actually love myself, which, in a world that says "you cant love others until.." i've found a bit confusing. a great friend of mine wondered on the question herself, whether to do unto other as they would have or do unto other as you would have, which one of the two was more wisdomic. love. thats the word isnt it? i have such a hard time with being able to love others the way they seem to need.. but i love the heck outta me and it's just most other things i find disappointing.. i think every lawn should be a garden. does this make sense? the normals are actually why everything sucks. seems like if we go with the flow of society we will consign ourselves to be very unpunk. and man, i'm punk as fuck. i dont give a shit about how unpunk you think that sounds. i look at the world and it's ills and i feel like to even interact with it at all is folly for a person of wisdomic integrity. the bourgeoisie dont need or want what i have to say and i dont like feeding bullshit to the morons anyways. i'm kinda bitch like that. whatever. oh and yeah i invented the word wisdomic; of or pertaining to wisdom. deal with it. here is a few pictures. i love you and happy mothers days! i love you mom!  | |
| this is some paint on a piece of paper i made. it woulda been so good, but i'm flesh and not machine, my weakness is so terrible, her inability to manifest itself in a visual/auditory way for you to perhaps empathize with my desperate ass is beyond painful to me. y'all dont get me. its ok. maybe a small margin of you do. thanks guys. you're swell. :) |
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| waterfall in the california redwoods |
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| me, st. johns, portland oregon, spring. |
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| i thought it fun to take pictures of tiny things in the redwoods. |
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| anddddd a snail. redwoods california. |