History – And Moving On

I have a very bad habit of living in the past. Something very good in the present will happen to me – of the times I allow myself to actually LIVE in the present – and then I smother it. Hold on to it with everything I have because I don’t want to lose that feeling. So fearful that I may never feel it again.

And so it is with this. It’s the third anniversary of this taking place today. Would it even mean this much to anybody else? Probably not. For most it would just be deemed a little “added extra” to an otherwise good day. Or perhaps a nice touch to a mediocre day. Either way, their day would have just been somewhat enhanced…a little.

For me though? It felt as though I had been defibrillated. Quite literally. The pace my heart ran at upon waking up and seeing this on the morning of January 5th, 2016 was nothing short of life affirming. It actually felt like I had been brought to life.

But how silly is that? I mean what exactly was it at the end of the day? Just some little doodle I made that some rock star liked? In the grand scheme of things…what did it actually mean and achieve? It’s just a poster. History.

Don’t mind me…I am in the stranglehold of melancholy right now.

I need to find my happy place again. And I am really not sure where that is right now. If I am still needing a crutch, then I haven’t found it, have I? Is it just an illusion? The “happy place”? Utopia…

Shrine Art No 1203

I just wanted to try something different…but with the same subject matter I fall back on.

In times of…descending melancholia, just…working on art around this beautiful face gives me focus, purpose. He’s my “human fidget spinner”, if I can be so crude? (I can. And now my mind is wildly wandering…GALLOPING…off elsewhere).

His sharing of the art from Cheryl Anne Grace a day or so ago. Of the NOLA “saints”? I mean, I’m obviously no Cheryl Anne…but I certainly have my own figurehead. My own deity.

I will forever regret saying what I said to him back in July. Because, coming from me, it was hypocrisy of the highest order. I portray him and treat him like a god in my art.

He is the centre of my artistic universe (and not just my artistic one).

I played around with this one for four hours. Am I pleased with it? Dunno…jury’s out. Did it put a stop to the descent into melancholy? Insomuch as it took the focus away from it for a while – Yes.

Sometimes I can attack a piece with sheer enthusiasm and delight, and it may come together in an hour. Other times, it is genuine therapy. I lose myself in it.

It used to be birds. But birds can only achieve that in daylight hours. This can happen any time of the day. And can start when high or low in mood.

But…am I an artist? I genuinely don’t know. A blagger? Most likely…

Seeing Through The Eyes Of…

In my wildest dreams it would be “love”. I’m still not even sure what that look is. Last week I had convinced myself he was looking at me “seductively”. I didn’t even see it as it happened…my eyes most likely checking the camera screen to make sure that he was actually in shot. Without my glasses on, looking at the screen, I’d have never noticed him even looking my way. And so, I never saw this until I played the footage back in the early hours of Monday morning.

I play it over and over, hoping it’s for me, and not for the loved up couple that were next to me to my right. They were getting quite a bit of attention from him. Happily interacting with him. Whereas I am a self-conscious bag of chicken shit who can barely look at him. Why on earth would the man ever want to interact with me?

But if he did…just for this brief window of time…it is all I ever need.



Please, Jim! If you EVER visit this godforsaken blog! Please! Just keep it in! For want of ever being able to hear Wonderful In Young Life or Boys From Brazil being played….or even Seeing Out The Angel for that matter.

You absolutely blew me away playing This Earth That You Walk Upon back in February. I will just be…just. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll never talk to you again. I’ll go and hide in a cave for etenity. Lol. Or whatever you’d prefer me to do (“fuck off in whatever style you see fit”, he says).

1. Hunter And The Hunted at Aix-Les-Bains
2. Delivered in the flamingo shirt
3. Accompanied with the Hokusai scarf – even if only used as a stage prop (ie: draped around the microphone stand…unless of course you deemed it too special and fragile to wear…then I’ll forgive you)



Remember this? What it means?! The love that comes with it…