Trailhead

When it’s quiet. Like Blair Witch Project quiet. You have walked and walked out into the middle of nowhere and finally found nowhere. Silence. Pure silence. I am in the desert. I am surrounded by dead trees, burnt weeds, and red rock piles. It’s quiet out here in the desert. I piss on the side of a tree and realize that is the only noise.

Really alone. Where you’d probably have to run back through the paths to get anywhere quick, if you had to. I am out here in the middle of nowhere. I have walked for two hours. To be truly disconnected. There is no one here. There is no one to help. You realize this only when it is that quiet. To know that no one is near, anywhere, to help you if something happened.

True silence. And then you feel your vulnerability. That is the loudest thing there. Your own momentary paranoia. But you keep walking. Then it begins to get dark. You think you may come to the other side of the trail, the other side of the forest, the desert, the whatever. Surely it will be soon, but the sun is setting.

That’s when you realize the sun sets fast. It never seems to want to go down when you want it to, but at this moment in total disconnect you begin to miss it. Because you realize that darkness is dark. The only thing to light your way is a starry sky, if it isn’t cloudy. But it’s cloudy. And you didn’t bring a flashlight. This moment into the empty paths was spontaneous. No food, no water, no flashlight, no backpack with provisions. You’d feel better right now if you had provisions. Suddenly you aren’t sure how far away the other side of this space is. You begin to think of night creatures. You start to hear night creatures.

For the first time you realize what all those dumb people back at the trailhead feared. The thing that kept them in the parking lot was that nobody was out here in the middle of nothing. Out where you now are. They were scared. If they were not scared then they were lazy. They didn’t want to hike several miles into oblivion at this time of day. They wanted to go home and eat dinner while watching Wheel of Fortune. In fact that’s where they are right now. The people have folded in their Selfie Sticks and returned to their homes. While I’m out here with the snakes and wild bores. There are desert pigs out here just waiting to trample in snorting packs, I’m sure of it.

I get to the corner of a very large mountain and realize how much farther there is to go. I know this mountain. I’ve seen it before on a map. I know where I am and I’m nowhere near the other end of this thing! It would take at least another hour and the sun has almost completely gone down already. It’s past the peaks of the mountains on the horizon and is sinking faster with every excited hoofing sound my sneakers make. Then I begin thinking about the trail ahead for the next hour. The trail which is getting harder to see. The trail which seems to be more overgrown here than ever before. Is it darkness making it worse or am I really losing my way? I’ve never lost my way. I have an uncanny ability when it comes to finding my way back from whence I came. But I don’t know if that uncanny ability works in the opposite direction. Because I just realized at this juncture that I’ve never done this trail before and I have no idea where it leads. How am I supposed to get to where I’m going if I have no idea where any of it is actually going?

The trail seems covered and the trees seem taller now. The darkness is creeping. The animals are all around me. I need to go back. I have to get back quickly. I begin to run. I turn and run realizing that I had just hiked for two hours. Would it have been smarter to go forward for an hour or back for two? I take the way I know. I run back. I jump over puddles and leap back up rock formations. I run across the ridges and back, back, farther back closer to the setting sun. I am literally chasing the sunset that was just behind me. It’s still slipping away but at least I’m running towards it instead of away from it.

I have no idea how quiet it is anymore. I hear nothing but my breathing and clomping, my rushing through two hours worth of what was once a calm adventure. If I could just see someone else out there hiking and having a grand ol’ time. If I could just run into some people. I’ve never wanted to run into people before, but this time it would just be so nice to see that I’m not the only one. I look around and listen carefully for people to prove that I am not alone. I hear no one. I am alone.

My heart is racing. I just want to get back. I failed in going the full trail. I chickened out for fear of spending the evening lost in darkness without a flashlight and a granola bar. My blood pressure must be through the roof. I feel funny. I don’t like this. Everything hurts. I leap and I run until I find a very familiar space. I come over a ridge to a flatly familiar mountainside rock. I’m a few miles away from where I started, but I’m back to where I know and the rest of the way will be just fine. My pace slows while my heart cools. Darkness sets in as I near civilization again. In the distance some idiot is flying a drone that looks like a UFO. I’m happy to see signs of people again. Signs of idiocy. Warm comforting stupid people doing stupid things, again.

The parking lot is completely empty by the time I reach the trailhead and the night is pitch black. There were many clouds. There were no stars. I stand at my car looking out into zero visibility and think about being out there in this. For a moment I wish I had stayed out there to find out. I chase off the regret that I’m getting back in my car when I could have been out there adventuring through the darkness. I could have still been hoofing it, surviving it, overcoming the unknown conclusions. But adventures like that always look good in theory. It’s another thing when in practice.

By The Artist D, August 2016

By The Artist D, August 2016

Temple

Whenever I take a vacation or remove myself from the workplace I am reminded of what has become of me. If I take a few steps back and observe my actions I am a kin to a shipwrecked person whom has now been rescued.

I jump manically from one thing to another trying desperately to fulfill parts of me that have been completely barren for weeks, months, sometimes years! Just like that starving ship wrecked person will luxuriate in taking a shower or devour several hamburgers, milk shakes, and a side of chicken nuggets. I do the same with my starving mind.

There is a stack of books next to my bed and anywhere else I may sit in my home. I am reading all of those books. Removing myself from the workplace sees my true longing to fulfill the dead zones of my body, mind, and spirit.

It does not take long to realize I am philosophically starving. I will have mad passionate sex for days, with others or myself. I will eat cheeseburgers, French fries, and have Chinese food delivered to my home. I will binge on bottles of wine. I will write in my notebook. I will type in my blog. I will start to read one book and then get so excited by the words that I must immediately move to another. I will then start to think ideas of my own thanks to the ideas that I am reading and I will need to start writing in my notebook. While I am writing in my notebook I will start to think of how epic it would be to share my thoughts with the world. I then rush inside to my laptop and begin preparing a blog.

All the while living out this obsessive starving-man literary display I begin to think of how much I must get to the mountains and walk. I think about meditating on rocks and maybe it will rain down on me while I am there. But I haven’t taken a shower in three days and that would be nice too. I’ll do that next! Then I’ll go to the local cafe and get a coffee. A real coffee, not some watered down Folders Tasters House bullshittery with fake cow puss to lighten it. No! Strong black coffee with saccharin. That’s it, that’s all. I’ll get a muffin too. Baked right there. Not some shipped in stupid organic piece of shit that was stale and unloaded from the truck last night.

Then another blog hits me. Then more notebook writing. Finally I’m in the shower and the windows are wide open. I’m thinking it might rain, so I really need to get going. But the pile of books! I can’t wait to return to the pile of books.

This is a demonstration in the School of Unlearning. This is a true memory of youth before social conditioning. Do what thou wilt and so much more. I stuff my brain with the knowledge of my psychic ancestors. I desperately grab at handfuls of truth like it was a cherry pie and I was a refugee. I fight the sadness of knowing that this is what life is supposed to be and all of that which left me dry must be shucked. But how? I must figure that out. I must buck the system. I must succeed so I can have the handfuls of knowledge, lust, love, poetry, deviation, on the daily. To not would be the worst denial of self one could ever submit to.

Sledgehammer, The Artist D, August 2016

Sledgehammer, The Artist D, August 2016

Pamphlet

My young eyes looked out into a world of graffiti and solid gold dancing. My young mind interpreted things differently, with a surreal naiveté yet a bizarre realness. I saw the subways of New York City 1980 and thought that was the place to be. Then again I was too young to be.

I found my New York City subway on the Internet in the late 1990’s. It was just like those spray painted and tagged trains of the 80’s, but in digital format. It was the new underground after Rudy had Giulianified the harsh reality of the real NYC. On the Internet we became punks to the matrix and ran our cyber street corners like artists. That’s not the artist who wants to be an artist, but the artist who is born artistic. Art today is confused with a four year college course. You have to be careful these days when you run into an artist. They may have been trained to be that way, instead of born that way. Be careful! They are nothing but wolves in sheep’s clothing wearing a stylish faux wolf coat.

Pamphlets were always a requirement of my underground. I always wanted to create a pamphlet. It would be a simple message from me to the world. I wanted to tell everyone en masse my extremely simple views of how society was such a terrible mask that they were all being forced to wear. I wanted to hold up the mirror for a quick glance and let everyone know they didn’t have to do it. They didn’t need to contribute to that faux world with family values and Sunday confessionals. It was all a sham. It was a hoax. The underground bubbled with the truth. The back rooms seethed with the dirty truth. The things that happened behind each white picket fence made everything moot on Main St.

The digital age took over the terrestrial underground street-smart living that I had always dreamed of finding. I abandoned it. I became one with my computer. I crawled inside the Internet’s circuits and became the artistic Max Headroom to anyone who would listen to me shouting down from my digital soapbox.

They always told me to do more. They always said I should add more production value to the things I created. They wanted me to try harder, pay for more advertisements, network with fellow people of the Digital Tubes, and play the game more. They wanted podcasts and insisted I add substance. Before I knew it they had taken over the Internet. You know, the They from out there. They were now in here. The same people who dripped Disneyfication over the terrestrial streets of New York and Los Angeles had now invaded the Internet and were whispering directly in my ear.

My pamphlet was out the window before it ever was created. People don’t want the truth! People want to hide inside with the blinds drawn. The people of planet Earth want to look straight ahead and proceed to their air conditioned vehicle, so it may take them to an air conditioned building. Rinse, repeat, and flutter your little wings in joy that life has been swept conveniently under the extraterrestrial rug.

When I found myself at the business end of the gun known as They I was no more pleased than ever before. I had worked so hard to create the pamphlet up in lights, the one backed and sponsored by Them, that I had completely forgotten I just wanted to hand out photocopied leaflets letting everyone know it was a charade.

Now I’m back to pamphlets. Because the best ideas that never were will always be just as good when you come all the way back around to them. We sweep the fact away about who we really are, who we really love, who we really want to Fuck, and what we really want to be doing with our days. We keep sweeping until the dust bunnies gang up on us and eventually all of that swept away truth regurgitates back up all over until we accept it was what we should have been doing all along.

You should have been you all along. I should have been handing you this pamphlet all along. Don’t mind me. This is just the underground. It’s nothing special, just the birthplace of every truth the universe has ever dilated and brought forth.

The Artist D, August 2016

The Artist D, August 2016

Restrictive Bedfellows

There is no logic behind being shy and intimidated when it comes to the nature of flesh. I never let how I look(ed) stop me from pursuing what I want. The mindset for it is easy, but it depends on your intentions.

The people will say that they were intimidated to approach a “cute” person because they think themselves to be the opposite. They go about their lives not talking to people and never going after what they want. They never give it a go and yet never seem to realize that by not trying they have chosen their own fate. You aren’t alone because no one likes you. You’re alone because you never asked everyone you wanted to be with you.

I always saw that I could be turned down. I still kept asking. People are so afraid to be rejected. Yet if you don’t continuously put yourself out there, then how will you ever find any connections? It’s a lot like getting the right job. If you apply to one job per month you’ll never find what you’re looking for. Even worse, you’ll end up with something lousy. You’ve got to apply to dozens of jobs per week and go on hundreds of interviews before you might click with the right business. You’ve got to approach hundreds of people before you find one who will date you, sleep with you, or tie you to a bondage cross and whip you silly. You know, whatever you’re looking for.

That reminds me of intention. Everybody always thinks they’re looking for love. They want to bake pies and paint the baby’s room a shit shade of yellow. I wish more people understood what they wanted. Most of the time I was looking for sex. I misunderstood my desire to nest with my need to be sexually and psychologically released via intimacy. Unfortunately for most, they never discover their true intentions and end up wondering why they’re so unhappy when they finally do achieve “The Happy Couple” nesting moment. Love and nesting is good. It’s something I eventually found too, but it was certainly far after I had exhausted my blindingly psychological sexual desires to be accepted via going at it like rabbits with complete strangers.

Our problem as people of this time and place is that we do not know who we are. We are so distracted by constant distraction that there’s no time to find ourselves. So, we jump to find ourselves by gaining the acceptance of other people. Other people who can’t find themselves. The blind leading the blind into oblivion.

Know what you want and who you want. Do not be afraid to place yourself in the path of those you desire. Take these words and apply them to everything in your life. Do not be afraid to place yourself in the path of what you desire. Whether it’s a person, a thing, a place, an adventure. If you don’t, then you’ve already made up your mind to not have it. Do not be afraid to ask.  Do not be discouraged by rejection. So one ambitious goal didn’t work out, try a couple thousand more. It’s not like you have anything better to do.

Artist D in Summer, 2016

Artist D in Summer, 2016

Humanity & My Car Door

The first time I bought a new car I drove it to the supermarket and parked way at the end of the lot as to protect “her.” When I exited the store I found someone slammed their shopping cart into the side, denting my new car. This was on the second day of owning a new car.  After that it was one human mishap after another. There was always someone leaving the cart against my side, dents, dings, scratches, and some kind soul even keyed me once.

The second time I bought a new car I did similarly with my required trip to the supermarket. Upon exiting the store and approaching my car I found some person in a beat up white Toyota put their door into the side, denting my new car. This also was on the second day of owning a new car.

I’ve always treated physical things as trivially as possible. For example, it’s wonderful to have a shiny new car, but don’t expect it to be completely shiny and new for more than ten minutes after driving off the lot. My purchase of a car is far more for the purpose of owning an armored tank to drive around in. It sure is shiny, glittery, and pretty, but it’s more there for my transportation and safety than anything else.

Be that as it may, I was a bit miffed upon finding that white Toyota sitting there a foot from my new car. Here we were again on day two with a nice dent and scratch. A dirty old little Toyota carelessly crammed into a spot with no awareness of what they have done. It is not as if they “set” their door upon mine. It was quite clear that they acted an ape and just lumbered out opening the door into my space. Right out into my glittery, shiny, new space.

It all makes me wonder about people like that. They are certainly why we cannot have nice things (for long). But I wonder why they do it. Do they have the personal opinion that they are a piece of shit in a “dirty old little white Toyota” and they are going to show me that I am not any better? Do they lumber about in envy or do they just do it in sloth? Are they just overheated from life and don’t give a shit? Do they think that I deserve a dent or do they not really think about it at all? Are they so caught up in their own world that they haven’t a clue what their mere presence is doing to others around them? Knowing humanity as I do I’d say it’s nothing personal. It’s only that they simply don’t treat their own things well, so they aren’t going to treat anyone else’s any better.

I’ve never opened my door and dented someone else’s vehicle, so I can’t really relate. Even when I drove a dirty old little car myself I never felt the right to have my property hurt someone else’s. I think about the people around me, because I do not want to bother the humans as much as they bother me. I stay out of people’s way in stores. I even get a lurking taste of guilt if I’m holding up traffic by going the speed limit. I do not wish to be in anyone’s way, because I wish that no one was in mine.

Humanity is my dented car door. Humanity just rumbles around, carelessly flinging their poo. They trample each other like herds of gazelles. They want to get somewhere, but refuse to take the time to carefully conduct their bodies in an orderly universal fashion. They will not meditate, yet they will scream. They will outstretch a slime-covered hand to request you appease them, but will not accommodate any requests that may infringe upon their static scrambled television channel type of life.

We should be kinder to each other and other people’s toys. There is another reason why I adore being within the BDSM community. There’s a group of people who understand respect for space. They also put their toys away when finished. And I bet you they wouldn’t dent your car door … unless you asked them to.

The Artist D on the Radio, April 2016

The Artist D on the Radio, April 2016

Busyness

Business is what people do when they are bored. Business is what is done to keep all the humans busy. Busy with their busyness. Most people wouldn’t know what to do if you took away the requirement of putting in all of those hours. They would replace business with entertainment. They would sit on the couch and watch television as they wondered what else could feed them life.

The people are always looking to be given a life. Work and business keeps them busy. Externally produced entertainment keeps them busy. The consumers line up to these outlets like standing in line for soup. Business and entertainment is their only nourishment. Unless we’re talking about real food, because that’s one of the other categories of distraction. The final categories being sex and drugs.

At least when people have sex with each other they are creating their own enjoyment. Business, entertainment, food, and drugs all idly bring the creation to you. Those things force a world of distraction into what could be an otherwise meaningless existence. People are always looking outside of themselves for the meaning. They don’t seem to stop much and create it by themselves.

People are always telling me that the things I do take so much time. I get up early to take morning walks with meditation and stretching. That seems to take so much time! I make breakfast from scratch. I create a meal. I peel things and cook things. I prepare food and then slowly eat it. Well, that would take so much time! I do not subscribe to cable television, so when I seek entertainment I do my best to actually read books. Gosh, reading seems to take so much time! Any time I share some of my life habits with people they are always telling me that it sounds so good, but it must take so much time!

It usually makes me ask them what their time is like. Well, they say they are rushing off to work. Sometimes they tell me they are so late for school that they have to fall out of bed and get right to class. They’ve got to get the kids to camp or pack their husband’s lunch pail. The people who think I have time consuming lifestyle habits are always rushing off to do the things they don’t want to do. Work, school, and other such socioeconomic commitments that they must do are drowning out all of the things they would like to do; “Oh, if only I had more time. Like you…” 

Time is not something we get anymore or less of. People are always trying to find time. They are seeking it as if they could manufacture more minutes. The minutes never change, only your response to them does. I only have time in the morning before rushing off to responsibilities because I get up earlier than most people. The only reason I have time to read a book is because I turn off YouTube and quit staring at Facebook.

In the eyes of others with no time I appear to be sacrificing one thing for another. Maybe I am! I do one thing instead of another, but it’s no sacrifice. Instead of an extra hour of sleep I get a morning walk in calmness. Instead of staying up late on a bender I get some sleep per chance to dream. Instead of staring at a screen I will stare at pages of a book. The time is the same. It’s what we do with it that is different.

All burnt out humans work as much as they can, give to society as much as they can, and then they go home to collapse. We all exit the business and entertainment with the same exhaustion on a daily basis. It’s what we are doing when we get home that changes the course of a life’s style and brings a better lifestyle.

The Artist D, Finding the Time

The Artist D, Finding the Time

The Nuisance of Nuance

I was playing around in the AOL Chat Rooms in 1996. If we wanted to grasp at straws for purposes of longevity we could say that I have been on the Internet for 20 years. A couple years after my first AOL experiences in 1996 I decided that I could live my life online and really “make something of myself.” While others were still deceived that they could make it offline, I already resigned myself to a digital existence.

It was because of people like myself that the Users now find themselves living a digital existence. These days the more online you get, the more offline I go. I am uninterested in what the Internet is today and it is not news how much I dislike normals crashing the party. Any party.

Back in the day I thought I might be famous one day. Like groundbreaking Internationally famous. I thought one day I would be welcomed onto the Hollywood stage. They would fire up the spotlights and welcome an Internet Superstar onto their non-Internet awards show. The audience would Oh and Ah at the groundbreaker.

Hollywood joined the Internet instead of sampling from it and making my sordid fairy tale come true.

I used to wonder why I never made it Big Time. Then I decided it was better that I hadn’t. In my opinion Chris Crocker was the perfect example of that. He was an Internet Celebrity who popped his head into normal Hollywood and the two didn’t fit. Watching that unfold felt like an awkward rape scene. Since then we’ve had several old school Internet Celebrities do the same and it’s always an awkward scene. They are too real or a new brand of too fake.

I’ve always had this little following of folks who knew me, knew of me, and heard about me. That gathering whom appreciated the things I said or did. They glanced my way and acknowledged me like just another animal in the zoo. The animal that looks interesting, but not as interesting as the chimpanzees fucking in the next cage.

While I have never held my opinions back they have never seemed to really stir things up like other people’s. It took me decades to realize that nuance was my blessing and my curse. I’ve always been able to come up with a nice way of putting things.

Nuance. It’s subtle difference in or shade of meaning, expression, or sound. I truly believe in the nuance of my presentations. There is good and bad in everything. Nothing should be overlooked.

One by one I see some of my better friends appearing on E!, MSNBC, and writing for global publications. They aren’t saying anything I haven’t already said. They are as glamorous as I am and speaking just as eloquently. Yet nobody ever asked me. The only difference is they have taken a side. They do not live within nuance.

It is that which I believe makes the masses neutral to me. I never get on YouTube and start yelling. Even when I was passionately one sided I still fraternized with the enemy’s point of view. “I completely believe in this but I totally understand why someone believes the opposite.” This always helps to disarm the argument. I think for the most part I rarely ever stated people should stop doing whatever people were doing. People are, for the most part, willing to accept that you don’t agree so long as you agree that they shouldn’t change. Swimming delicately in the waves with nuance.

I am now quite pleased to keep to myself and not become all of the things I wanted to be on the Internet. In fact, now I want to do things that are even more off the beaten path than ever before. Your approval is not desired nor required in ways that I never thought possible. I still want to share my vision with the world, but it’s going to have to be a very different vision.

When you become all of the rage you are then requested to pick sides. I do not desire to be on anyone’s side. I want to sit on a bedazzled throne in my backyard and have a party. Outside. Offline. A place where people leave their phones in a box by the Welcome Mat.

For the most part I have left the digital building. I’ll always be a digital geriatric, because everything is ancient within days “in Internet years.” They took my circus and killed my monkeys. Kids these days …

0007

The Artist D, March 2014

One Great Love

I always had a sneaking suspicion about love. I have always studied people falling in and out of love. Love is fleeting and love is mysterious … or so they think. Everybody seeks to be in love, fall in love, stay in love, live a nice long sexy loving relationship. Everybody fails and few retain the love life they always dreamt of.

The mystery to it all is that love is alive. Love is only as human as the humans who love and make it so.  Without 2+ people agreeing that they have indeed fallen in love then love exists as well as inserting a round peg into a square hole. To love someone without being loved back is an obsession, possibly a lust, and most definitely a fleeting yet enjoyable fantasy playtime.

The truth about love as I have come to understand it is that love changes. That’s why love is alive and love is people. People change, or are supposed to change! If people change then people change together. If the people who have agreed to be together change and do not change in an agreeable direction then they are growing apart. This is why love ends.

A nifty secret to keep up your sleeve is that love ending shouldn’t be a big deal if it happens. You couldn’t have kept it together much longer anyway. That’s forced sameness and that’s boring.

The fortunate folks are those that get to change together and enjoy it. You’ve got to be a special creature for this to last for long. It has to be a rare statistic where two people can stay together for decades, both having a dynamic range of individual changes, yet still being able to love each other fiercely. There are always rocky periods when both are going through the greatest changes. If they can think it through and not freak out then there is a chance that they can continue to ride the galaxy’s steamroller waves.

In my experiences I would recommend you not take life too seriously. The whole point of riding waves is not expecting them to take you anywhere expected. And then enjoying the new path you are placed on when you get flung their. To decide to take each step as an adventure instead of bucking the change.

Bucking the change is what gets lovers in trouble. Things are never like the first kiss and never like the first honeymoon. They will always be different. You can never go back. That’s why people collect lovers like they collect sea shells. They’re always looking to reclaim the first time feeling and never being quite used to all the feelings that come after that.

Whether you love many or find the one to flow with for the rest of your life, you need to let go to really appreciate true love. To find the one great true love is to not only stop looking, but learn to relax while you morph together instead of grow apart.

Love in a Fake Lake, January 2011 by Artist D

Love in a Fake Lake, January 2011 by Artist D

The Internet’s First Super Star Hates the Internet

Whenever I slide through Facebook I am more and more turned off by what the Internet has become. I see angry people posting angry blurbs with angry people commenting back. Anger mixed with the obituaries. Other than a peppering of cat photos, that’s it, that’s all.

Welcome to the Internet of the 21st Century. No longer a refuge for the freak superstars squirreling away in their bedrooms. The people got hold of my space and transformed it into the new normal. The new normal is the same as the old normal that used to exist offline. The old boss moved in and kicked the new boss to the curb. He added commercials, put the populace on a social media intravenous drip, and worst of all made it normal. Man created cable television and man insists on mirroring that concept in all that he touches. Man takes new thing and turns it into old thing, because he’s afraid to try new things.

We used to care about what you thought. I don’t mean the things you think of now. I mean the things you really thought. The things it took a novella to get out of your head and down onto the keyboard. The things that poured out from the depths of your circuits and entered the depths of the Internet’s circuits.

It wasn’t about your political affiliations or how offended you are by someone else’s opinion. In fact we used to laugh at people who got offended on the Internet. Now Internet offense is in vogue. The people have arrived and with them come their silly rules. Rules they like to think are real tangible things in a made up world. Their protect-the-children and hide-your-eyes mentality spills all over the crevices of my digital wonderland like six kids projectile vomiting in an airplane.

I keep coming back because there is an Internet that exists outside of Facebook. It’s not much better and there are just a few pockets of individuality left churning. I come back hoping to find a glimmer of hope that will lead me back into the true Internet underground. I keep looking for the hidden magic door. Yet even in the darkest corners I find people acting like normal people who have lost their substance.

Ultimately I reminisce about the Internet like a sexy gay punk artist reminisces about New York City 1980. Places where the underbelly provided epic amounts of beautiful dirt and artistic grime with sin and true poetic sorrow to bask in.  Now stands a shiny statue of Micky Mouse with big-eyed onlookers staring up thinking about absolutely nothing important.

The Internet shall grow into a sanitized wasteland of human drivel and butt-hurt. It will spin and swirl like a black hole until the humans drink it down to destruction. When they are finished it will look like a paralyzed twitching robot resembling that of the 1986 film Short Circuit.

For me, it has already begun to look like more fun to be offline than on. But that shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone. In the words of Bukowski then, now and forever: “Wherever the crowd goes, run the other direction. They’re always wrong.”

The Artist D, October 2011

The Artist D, October 2011

I, the Devil

It sometimes dawns on me that I am a devious creature in comparison to the people who followed along as children. Do you remember how it used to be? How they used to tell us that we’d be struck by lightning if we went awry?  Straying from the appropriate path as decent Christians or followers of the moral codes set down by our potato-planting ancestors.

When I was a child I would stand outside in thunderstorms and dare God to strike me down for being devious. I was angry that the Man in the Sky would create me to be so twisted and true. I, like many of you, spent many decades battling against pretend sin in order to overcome human nature. In the end I learned it was all perfectly natural and perfectly alright. I was perfect from the start.

A glorious gay man. A tricky transgender spirit. The queerest soul that a soul could be. My nightlife bubbling ever so close to the surface. An artistic deviant with no boundaries. Sexually free to be me and be with those who long for lust. Swimming in pools while drowning in vats of liquor and clouds of second hand smoke. Being the graffiti on the wall. To strobe with the fiercely old. I am an undesirable. My Friends Feed has naked people on it.  I’m friends with porn stars. I’ve slept with porn stars.
I’ve broken the chains of religious restrictions.

So, I turn around and look back among the long burnt out road which leads to the footprints of my stilettos.  I look back at all the people I grew with and played kick the can with. They the church goers and the baby havers. They are living in the sturdy homes in the conservative fields following the letter of biblically fictional bastards.

And I realize that I am the Devil to these people. I am the Devil whom we feared as children. The Devil for just being myself. The Devil for not doing anything wrong or illegal, yet being the Devil none the less. For I follow my heart and pave my way off road.

The Devil we were afraid of and the guy we were told not to become was simply that of just being a happy person.

0001

The Artist D, December 2015