Can you hear it?

He rubbed his face and eyes. It looked as though they were going to pop from his head.
She cringed as she watched, telling him that wasn't a good thing to do.
He ran his fingers through his hair and held his head.
Something was going on and she knew better than to ask. He couldn't explain it to her. He didn't understand it himself.

He's hard to live with when he gets like this. Like a caged animal with O.C.D.
He paced around the house, over and over. For hours he paced rubbing his face, running his hands through his hair.

Every now and then he would stop to stare blankly out over the ocean, sometimes for hours without moving. Silent tears would run down his face.

"You can't hear it can you?" he would whisper to her. "It's so loud."

"What?" she asked. "What do you hear?"

He would look at her with a pain on his face like she had never seen before.
Pure anguish. Something had hold of his soul and was squeezing the life out of it.

Then he would pace. He had told her long ago that it had nothing to do with her. He was like that before they met. He had always heard it.

He drove her crazy when he got like this. It was happening less often that it used to. Sometimes it would last for days. He would go without sleep or food. Rarely stopping for a Vodka Martini that did nothing to ease his pain.

It had been many years since he had smoked but he could still taste it. Still feel it on his fingers as he rolled them by hand. The sensation of it on his lips.
One joint and this would all go away. He just wanted it to stop.

He knew that if he gave in all of the years of going without were gone. All of it would have been for nothing. It had been too many years to go back now. You can't go back for just one visit. It all comes back as if it were never gone. It wasn't the answer. The pain would come back and he would be in this same spot again. It had always been there, even before the drugs. Even after, it remained.
Times like this made it hard. The cravings were so real. The temptation so great.

He would pace for miles. The same routine over and over. It drove her crazy. She couldn't watch it anymore. After years of this she knew enough to leave him alone.
The others tried to help him and it destroyed them. The last one used to tell him,
"I know you better than you know yourself...". This one knew, that only made things worse. What a stupid thing to say.

He would always go back to them. He needed them. They filled him. This one need him too. She would wait. Trying to be patient. Trying to understand. Trying to stay clear. Before she started to hear it too.

The only one who could reach him now...

Was himself.

Thank You FOX News...

Thank you Thank you!
There is still some sanity in the world.

FOX News has canceled O.J.s book and the televised interview.

My message was heard. I am so happy.

Thank you Thank you! A sliver of faith in humanity has been restored.

Don't Give In To The Haters...

Why...
Why...Someone please tell me why.

Why do humans have this sick need to slow down at an accident?
Why, do we insist on holding a protest rally when Haters like Skin Heads have a rally?
Why do we care that O.J. has written a book?

Let me explain something to you.

As far as the accidents go...
Wanting to see people hurt, dead or dying is just sick and it makes you a sad, disturbed individual. Try to think about how you would feel if the situation were reversed.
Do you want a bunch of people gawking at you?

If you said "I wouldn't care" or "Yes", STOP READING RIGHT NOW. I don't want you visiting my site anymore.

With the Hate rallies and the O.J.'s of the world...

What they want more than anything else, is to have the rest of us paying attention to them. By holding rallies to protest the haters and by watching FOX or buying "If I did it"... you are giving these creeps exactly want they want.

ATTENTION!

They win. Sure you can justify the rally that is against the Haters, but you are letting them win. You can tell yourself and your friends that you just have to hear it for yourself, or you are doing it for all the women who were hurt by someone else, or you just wanted them to confess...

You know what? No matter why you do it, you are giving these people exactly what they want and they win.

If you really want to make a statement that you disapprove of the haters and the O.J.s...

IGNORE THEM!

I know, it is one of the hardest things to do, but it works. The next time the haters hold a rally and no one goes to protest and they get no media coverage. How many more rallies will they hold? It is the perfect way to say, ..."you guys suck and we're smarter than you are."

They don't care about standing around listening to one another talk their trash, they want the attention of the rest of us. If you ignore them, we win, not them.

If you stop watching FOX and don't buy O.J.s book, we win. He wants your attention.

Trust me people, Ignore them, don't pay attention, it's what they fear most.

Don't let them win, don't give them the attention they are craving, make a statement and say NO.

Falling Behind...

Somehow I have managed to get about three months behind in everything that I have been working on. Not sure how.

My studio is a complete mess. There are things scattered from end to end, floor to ceiling. I am a bit of a neat freak too so it is beginning to disturb me. I haven't painted since the "Quick Draw" either. Which means, it has been a mess for a few weeks now..

I have not touched my Appraisal Studies in two months. I should have a month to go and be done. Instead I still have three months to go.

The cataloging of my photographs started six months ago(alright, two years ago) and I swear it looks as if I have not touched any of them. They are still mostly in boxes, scattered across three rooms of the house. The negs are here, there, and who knows where.

Every surface in my studio is covered with multiple layers of...stuff.
With each stack I move or sort I manage to create three more stacks.
Where is all coming from? This cannot all belong to me.

I feel like a trailer park after a tornado.

It is time for a major overhaul of the place and a trip, or twelve to the Goodwill.

A flame thrower would be a very big help right now.

*****

For my three reader who have been curious. This is what my studio looked like three years ago. (Hufflelump Blue)


This is what it looked like 16 months ago after I moved it so we could redo our floors. (Sunflower Yellow)


And this is what it looks like as of five months ago when we moved back to the Northwest. (Buttugly White)


Ok there are more to each of them that what you see, but who the hell knows where those photos are.

A Cross Road...

This is a view from our gallery today. What you can't see is that it is raining fairly hard and the wind is blowing about 40-50 miles an hour. The only cars on the street belong to those of us that are working.
I have spent too many years in So Cal and am now freezing my buns off. I do have the fire place burning, so it is nice and cozy inside the gallery.

The last couple of days have been spent on reflection and going through the inventory of my work. I have decided that more than half of them are going to get painted over and given a fresh start.

Maybe it is a period of self loathing. My work is just not up to professional standards.

After 20 some years in the art business and countless years of study, I have reached a place where I can almost always tell the difference between 'good' and 'not quite'. It has nothing to do with whether or not I like it, but the quality of the work. The good ones have three things; Head, Hand and Heart.

It isn't even something I can describe. It is more of a feeling. To be a real professional you need all three. Sure there are many people who have made a living having only one or two, but their work will never have any lasting value.

Over the last two years I have put much more effort into my painting than I have in some time. I think I have a good eye. I can see the designs in my head and they're good. My heart is still there. I feel my work as if it's a part of my soul that I slice off and put on display. It is my hand that is failing me. It is just not where it should be. Every now and then, the three come together and I create a work that is great.


This painting I think is one of the best I have ever done. Technically speaking.

Once in a while however, does not cut it. If it were another artist that wanted to show in my gallery I would tell them they are not quite ready yet. Well...

I'm not ready yet!. I need more practice, more study, more time... I may never have it. I know that. Most wont. I have met thousands of artists who are good, but will never take it to the next level.

I'm close. I can see the next level and it is killing me that I can't take it up a notch.

It leaves me at a cross road. 1) I can keep going down the same path, painting when I get the time. 2) I can sacrifice some of the time I want to spend with my wife and son in order to spend it in the studio. 3) I can give up being a painter and go back to photography. Precious likes my photographs more than my painting and has been trying ever so kindly to tell me, that's what I should do. Replacing all of my equipment is another set of roads. 4) I can chuck them all and devote all of my energy to the gallery and sell other artists work. 5) I can just sit down and stare at these many roads until I decide which one to follow. There will definitely be more intersections on all of them. 6) I can lay in the middle of one of the roads and hope I get run over and wont have to think about any of it any more. 7) And there are I'm sure other options I have yet to consider.

I wish there was a bar on one of these roads. Is it too early for a drink?