Excerpt from My First Novel Yellow Socks Confessions of a Non Don Juan

June 4, 2012

An Excerpt from my 2010 novel Yellow Socks- Confessions of a Non Don Juan

 

Skeleton Woman or Things Like Me Don’t Happen To You

 

Christ it happened again. Another notch in my “girls that want to be my friend” belt. It made sense. We were perfect friends and she was real cute too. I kept thinking that I was ok with it. I’d be happy just being a friend again. I keep turning to God for strength to accept my fate as “Friend to all women” that I’m attracted to. My acceptance level seems to be ok. I go to my happy place. I go to my cave. I say the serenity prayer over and over I am sure that I will be ok with this. Yes I will. (no I won’t)

 

Cut to a scene from Fight Club

 

TYLER

Stop it! This is your pain — this is your burning hand. It’s right here! Look at it.

 

JACK

I’m going to my cave. I’m going to my cave to find my power animal!

 

TYLER

No, don’t deal with this the way those dead people do. Come on

!

JACK

I get the point, ok, please!

 

TYLER

No, what you’re feeling is premature enlightenment.

 

Ok. I get the idea. Feel the pain. Feel the hurt. Feel the rejection saturating my heart until I bleed more than just these words all over the place and finger my open sore of a brain as it wants to dwell on her over and over again. Screaming and roaring her name with anger and grief and sometimes a slight relief that it’s done and I know that she will not reject me again unless I go back for more and more or less or a little bite of her cheeseburger and a sip of her Pepsi to tide me over until the next one comes along with better food and spirits for my, for me for. Four scores of seven years itch as I scratch the weathered tired out mongrel of an ego that was left stray years ago in a pound for wayward hearts and letches that can only love and never be loved.

 

The pain of being a friend. A friend. I’ve heard that “Let’s just be friends” millions of times in my life as I gargle a new mouthwash and toothpaste hoping my breath will be the answer to my problem. My problem is as follows: me, myself and I. We altogether are the problem. We want to be loved so bad that we give off the vibe that scares the shit out of women so they just want to be friends. Friends. Friends. I think to myself that will be fine. Friends is ok. It’ll do. I can accept that. Bullshit! Feel the pain I tell myself. Embrace it. the pain is your friend. To hurt is to be alive. I’ve never been so alive. I’m alive. So alive.

 

“Did you ever hear about the skeleton woman?” Morton asked.

 

“Was that a Glam rock band from the seventies?” I ask.

 

“Ha. Ha. Nah. It’s an ancient Indian story. This guy was fishing in the middle of a lake. He was totally into it. He was relaxed. Not a care in the world except catching the next fish. All of a sudden he feels a tug on his line and he yanks it up. A skeleton appears on his line. He doesn’t realize that it’s attached to his line and he gets scared. He starts paddling his boat away from it but it follows him. He still doesn’t realize that it’s attached to his line. He gets out of his boat and runs into the village and he is carrying his fishing rod and the skeleton is still right behind him. He jumps into his Tee Pee and it follows him in. He lies down and tries to hide not looking at it for a while. When he finally turns to look at the skeleton it has changed into the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She is his. The moral of the story is that he was minding his own business doing something he enjoyed and that’s when the right woman came along. In other words when you are not looking for love is when it will find you. ”

 

“I know that but it’s so fucking hard to stay focused on other things without thinking about how much I want to be loved. Fall in love. Ya know?” I responded.

 

“I know. I know.” Morton said.

 

“We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.” Tyler Durden

 

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NIGHTMARES ON SALE – GET 2 FOR THE PRICE OF 1

April 1, 2012

I TRY TO IGNORE THE WHISPERS LOUDER THAN THE SCREAMS. IN DREAMS I WALK WITH YOU. You Roy.  I AM TRAVELLING. Always traveling. Moving. New apartment. New house. New CCITEE-Y. NEW STATE. STATE OF MIND. Party goers and house warmers and birthday goers and CHRISTmas mass attendees gather. I know some then I know everyone. I am no one. They don’t see me this way. He doesn’t see me this way. She. You.

 

MR SANDMAN BRING ME A DREAM.. I know you. I love you LOVE! I carry buckets of paint to your house and the party has just begun. I GET NO KICK FROM CHAMPAGNE either Frank, baby. Seven sisters of love pies stare at me and glare at ME AND THAT LOOK. THAT LOOK. IT SENDS CHILLLS DOWN MY SCARS- inside and outside that run against my heart. Let’s get this CHORDETTEONIAN PARTY STARTED MR JIMMY!

 

I put my arm around Grandmom to say I love you. People STARING. People caring. Empty people fill the crowded party. Acting hearty. Listing their character defects. Last chance. MY DEAD GRANDMOM TURNS HER HEAD AND SAYS “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID!”

 

 

I wake up smoking and drift back along the sea of asphalt, scraping my fat ass and ripping my favorite dream jeans still wondering what I did. WHAT DID I DO THAT GRANDMOM KNOWS I DID? Was it last summer Jennifer Love?

 

I am alone. ALONE. MY NEWEST OF THE NEW HOUSES. Sir Raleigh comes with news. I thought he said PRESIDENT REAGAN HAD DIED OF INDECENT IMPLOSURE. I didn’t care until I realized he wasn’t just dreaming about my Dream girl locked in his dungeon TIED UP WITH VINES and THE SISTERS OF REJECTION.

GIVE HIM TWO LIPS OF HATRED AND VIOLENCE. RESTRAINING ORDERS, BRIGHT LIGHTS AND SIRENS.

 

“SHE’S A COKE HEAD” HE SAYS.

“SHE USED TO GIVE BLOW JOBS TO HERMAPHRODITES.” HE SAYS.

 

My throat fills with vomit and joy. IN DREAMS I DO COKE WITH YOU.

 

Stolen emotions and borrowed gifts are shared at the airport and train stations and parking lots and I’M STILL NOT SURE WHICH IS WHICH. IN DREAMS I TALK TO YOU. Us is back and you is cornered and still slip away. Reptilian monkeys bred become bread for the children of Elizabethan peasants but I grab two of them and hand them to the girl with ruby slippers and she vanishes like the Dark Knight into the dark night when she hears Bruno approach.

 

“I’ll whip you now my pretty and your LITTLE MAN too! Hahahahaha” Bruno yells but not enough to find her. I find her in her Old Kentucky home with three wooden porch steps away and I go into seizures. Jules Vern hides Tu-Tu Hundred Feet Under The Sea Under The Porch. I pass out. DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM –DUM DUM DUM DUM DUM. MR SANDMAN WAKES ME. The ape lizards have grown by the time I reach the inside. The Dark Huntress awaits me wearing a smile and a bra. I am excited to see her but worry about poor Mr Vern. Guilt reddens my pink face knowing that I shouldn’t be THERE. The Queen would be quite jealous and take away my deconstructed addictive Kingdom. SHE IS THERE AND SHE IS THERE. IT WAS A DUBIOUS PLAN OF THE HUNTRESS OF DARK TO HAVE Mr Vern under the porch and watch my web of lies unfold. The evil one IS not Bruno and I NOW KNOW WHAT GRANDMOM KNOWS I DID. I JUST DIDN’T DO IT YET WHEN SHE TOLD ME.

 

Caught in the trap admiring the salamander gorilla’s ability to change in size determined by the cage they are in. I imagine if they were let loose if they could grow bigger than the entire world. My Darling Queen and my Miss Huntress dance and change clothes despite the height and come out laughing at me and yet forgiving me and I feel a calm as MY DEAD GRANDMOM SAYS “ I STILL KNOW WHAT YOU DID.”


Impressionist Edgar Degas was a Pervert?

May 6, 2011

Edgar Degas (19 July 1834 – 27 September 1917) is regarded as one of the greatest founder of impressionism. Degas rejected the term and preferred to be called a realist. He was an expert “realist” and painted many subjects through his life but over 50% of his work was focused on the subject of ballet dancers. Supposedly the paintings of dancers showed his mastery in depicting movement. His portraits are notable for their psychological complexity and depiction of human isolation.

“Early in his career, he wanted to be a history painter, a calling for which he was well prepared by his rigorous academic training and close study of classic art. In his early thirties, he changed course, and by bringing the traditional methods of a history painter to bear on contemporary subject matter, he became a classical painter of modern life.” –Wikipedia

I have been exposed to Degas years ago and thought he was pretty good but never really looked at it. I was exposed to almost every artist that had an impact on the world thanks to having an adopted father who taught art, constantly learned art and in retirement became a major contributor to the art world. A So, Degas kind of fell into the back of my head and I focused on modern artist I loved like Francis Bacon, Joe Coleman, Robert Crumb and a bunch of other outsider art.

In 2003 I landed a job at the Philadelphia Museum Art working in the museum specialty store at the end of the special Edgar Degas exhibit that was in town for 3 months or so. I was over exposed with his work. At first I wasn’t that into Degas’ paintings. Although I love looking at ballet dancers it seemed boring at first. I did my research. I read what I could about Degas at the museum, at home, and online. He seemed a little more interesting. I started looking at the paintings and this may or may not sound weird depending how much you know me, but I was attracted to the girls in his paintings. Even though Degas had the habit of blurring their faces or even making them ugly, they were painted with obvious sex on mind. The dancer’s bodies were painted with delicacy and strong sexuality. The younger the girl painted this way the more I kept thinking “pervert”.

“Degas, who believed that “the artist must live alone, and his private life must remain unknown”, lived an outwardly uneventful life. In company he was known for his wit, which could often be cruel. He was characterized as an “old curmudgeon” by the novelist George Moore, and he deliberately cultivated his reputation as a misanthropic bachelor.” Wikipedia

Degas liked to hide out. It is common for many artists to have eccentric personalities of all types but there seems something interesting about Degas making it a rule to keep his “private life unknown” and being a “misanthropic bachelor” makes him seem creepy to me. A pervert.

I kept my observations and opinions to myself for a while. I brought it up to a co-worker or 2 and they thought the same thing. It became a topic of discussion for almost every employee after a while. Even the security guards were talking about it. We never let this on to customers or visitors.

One of Degas’ well-known paintings hangs on the walls of the Philadelphia Museum of Art called the Interior also known as The Rape. It depicts a tense confrontation by lamplight between a man and a partially undressed woman. It seems like something uncomfortable or bad just went down. The very young woman or girl looks violated, ashamed and sad. It looks like she has been packing luggage but didn’t finish for whatever reason The older man stands against the wall looking domineering and confident in ever move he made or is getting ready to make. It’s an uncomfortable painting that even I have trouble looking at.

I don’t judge Edgar Degas for whatever goes on in his head and expressives through art. I hope that’s where it ended. I’ve heard many artist proclaim that if they didn’t have their art they would be killers, criminals, rapists, etc. I even know of a case where a convicted murderer discovered art in prison and upon release he became a full time artist. Despite the fact that he is indirectly making money off of his crimes, he has no desire or motivation to kill again because of art. Back to Degas.

I guess it really doesn’t matter to me if Degas is a pervert or not in real life. I do get weird feelings from some of his paintings but it is art. He has influenced many other impressionists and even indirectly has influenced me (with his style and passion not his perverted intent).

If you don’t know Edgar Degas look him up and see for yourself. It might just be me and few hundred other perverts that agree he is a pervert. What’s obvious to me isn’t always obvious to others.

The most important thing about art is reaction. Whether it’s a good or bad reaction it is a good thing. It’s when people feel indifference to art that it looses its value.

Degas was great artist despite all controversy. His work does invoke emotions.


Live Book Reading from Yellow Socks Video

April 29, 2011

Now you can read it yourself. Just click the Yellow Socks cover pic.


No Guilt for Fate

June 6, 2010

Fate. God’s Will. What is meant to be is to be. Call it what you want but I believe things happen for a reason. I believe in this more and more every day. Everything that has happened in my life has lead me to who I am now. For better or for worse depending on the day and my spiritual condition or mood. It’s all about today for me, today.

I don’t have any regrets of my past and what I have done or haven’t done. It is what it is. I try to make the best of each moment and when I’m down I just ride it out and it goes away eventually.

My recent unfair job loss has freed my mind up a bit. For now. I’m in a position to move on creatively and try to improve the quality of life for myself. By losing my “job” I got to thinking about what I really want to do. I’ve known it for a long time now but I want to write. I want to write and make a living off of writing stories, novels and poetry. I might get sidetracked here and there but I know deep in my heart what I want to do. What I’m good at.

Recently (but before I lost my job), I wanted to recreate myself as an artist. I’ve been toning things done a little here and there. I created a new blog page online to help promote me as a writer. I was going ot only post the less offensive writings. I’ve been holding back on my online social networking pages as well because family and people I know casually are on there. You know what? I don’t care anymore. To quote the great Popeye “I am what I am”. I did what I did.

I was worried about future employers googling my name and finding out about the xxx movies I’ve made, the serial killer songs I’ve written, recorded and performed, the sexual or offensive stories I’ve written and the “sick” drawings I’ve done. At one point I was considering deleting everything I could off of the internet. That’s impossible. I did what I did. Some things I’m proud of and some things I’m not but it all contributed to making me who I am today. It’s all part of who I am. People will see it and choose if they like it or not from there.

Anyone that knows me well knows that I am perverted, dark, and weird. They also know that I am a decent person that doesn’t revolve my life around my darkness or perversions. There is another side to me.

It took another loss of a meaningless “job” to open my eyes to see who I am again. To quote Patti Smith “I am an American artist and I have no guilt”.

Today I will either create something perverted, dark, or light and funny. Whatever it is I am on a mission to constantly create no matter what anyone else thinks or says about it. Amen.


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