That’s a lie. I’m stressed as hell.
As I was trying to fall asleep the other night, the gerbil wheel began spinning, and I started dwelling on life… And this wasn’t a ‘who am I, where am I going‘ kind of reflection. This was a sudden, and overwhelming recognition that I am utterly lost. I suppose it could be argued that any of us are, but this sudden upheaval of everything I knew to be real- The loss of my true North, as it were, is indescribably discombobulating. How do people manage through this sort of strife without coming completely unhinged? How does one mourn the loss of someone who hasn’t died?
I ask these questions rhetorically, but also because perhaps by putting them out into the either, I’ll find my own conclusions. It’s as if I open my eyes every so often, and see that I’m back adrift in an open ocean. There’s no current, and no anchor. One thing I know for sure is that this weightless nothing isn’t sustainable.
Anyway, that’s what’s been on my mind lately…
Moving on from the rusty cogs of my brain to matters of a far more clown sort- A couple of years ago I first released an archival edition of a drawing I’d done for a show with Paul Urich, which was a tiny rendering of even tinier clowns;
Alas, the show never happened, but that little drawing began an avalanche of similarly inspired projects, the latest of which was a second edition of a revision of that first drawing;
Clearly, the colors are more vibrant, there’s more detail, and most notably, the new edition is 16″x20″
If you’d like one of these for your own, alls you gotta do is head to the store.
By the way, if you haven’t checked it out for a while, I’ve got a gob of stuff in said store, all of which you likely can live without, but I can’t live without selling, so take a trip and spoil yourself.
Not relating to that, or the next thing, but if you all haven’t caught up on this past weekend’s New York Hardcore’s super spreader event, you really gotta;
I mean, if you thought punk rock remained a bastion of forward thinking individuals who are not as wholly idiotic as at least 49% of the rest of society, it’s safe to say you’re wrong.
In news of a blindingly different day to day, I’ve spent my days when I really should otherwise be applying for a new business/resale license, getting new health insurance sorted, figuring out how to re-register, and re-license my truck doing anything but those things, because grown-upping sucks.
Thankfully there’s no shortage of places to play not so very far outside of my door, and when the emotional clouds come rolling in, I’m grateful to have it, as well as a small gaggle of homies to help me remember who I am as a reprieve;
At least as visual representation, it helps me remember who I am.