This post is an update of my life and how it's changed since April. Only within the past three weeks has my life taken a turn of the positive since I last wrote in this blog. SO MUCH has happened! I guess I can only start from this moment and jump backwards to explain I guess.
So, RIGHT NOW, I sit in my parents house, my cat Shrubbery walks into my room with trepidation, probably wanting to play with toy squid on a stick with me. I sip on orange juice and I have been walking the east side while smoking a black and mild. I went to Jim's (one of my best friends - who's been there since 1st grade) and before that went to the back to cash an abundance of pay checks I have gotten over the past few weeks. The time change has happened and it's throwing me off, I have work tonight at 10p until 630am as a graphic designer/ production artist. Today is about putting things I have learned in the past few months in perspective, and putting some awful shit behind me so I can enjoy new stuff.
Yesterday I was terribly hungover - I slept a lot, but I think is was REALLY NEEDED and the booze not only killed off the cold I had, but the sleep put the nails in the coffin. I did drink with friends on Friday - went to an art show, saw drag queens, discussed relationships, played harmonica in a blues band, and tried not to get sick when we got food later. I have not been hungover like that in so long I dont remember when it was.
I have been working as a graphic designer for about 2-3 weeks now. This was a job they said I didnt get and the guy they hired in my stead was apparently a jerk, and got fired... so I am a graphic designer out of pure serendipity. My boss is really flippin cool, I can set my own pace, and it will pay my bills with benefits... and it looks good on a resume'. It may cut into my time, but then I am able to pay bills and still have weekends.
Actually I want to talk about that for a minute. That's kind of the point of this post. SERENDIPITY. I will get to it, and it's important, but I am setting things up.
I have been figuring out how to write a real story about Flloyd the Mutant Coffee Table - a character that explores dimensions as a delivery guy/ guide. Weird stuff happens to him, and I have been reading and studying how to tell a well told story about him and his life. It's one part really silly, one part really serious if I do it right. I really want it to work, and the sheer scope of it is intimidating... it would be so easy to just make it stupid and so easy to take it too seriously. I am working on balance.
I recently (about three weeks ago) went to Con on the Cob in Akron. This is a gamer con more for art professionals and their families. It has all the hallmarks of other cons, but is very fun and easy going. On Friday of the Con I found I got the job at Custom Deco (listed above), I went to a friend's friend's 21st birthday. Saturday I saw Ivan Stang give a "sermon" about the Church of the Sub-Genius. I was transfixed to say the least.
The Sub-Genius religion is weird and unsettling on purpose because it's a big joke that involves aliens, conspiracies, and hokey religion but has more truth between the lines than most holy texts would say directly. I felt... power behind what Stang said... not because of the whimsy, but because of what he said about being ourselves, and how important it is to believe in that. It's what gives one "Slack" - the ability to get something done by doing "nothing"... which implies Zen and a myriad of things I already believe. Imagine being so natural in yourself that you just be you and you dont have to try... and then not taking it so seriously that you have to fight and die to believe in it, because it's all a big joke anyway. It's more like a really good idea than some faith you desperately cling to... which would be a solid beginning to enlightenment - if it didn't take you there straight up.
So while this was being said at the Con, I "christened" my new sketch book. I felt like it would be a good day.
BECAUSE - I had been in places as of late, and being a Screamster at Cedar Point helped balance me out and I developed my monster in the Fear Faire more this year - serenading the people with "Strangers in the Night", and "Moondance" and creeping them out with my blank mask. Being a goofy bastard and "scary" on MY terms went a long way toward my recovery. I was a far better Screamster for it.
As for "The places" I had been, they in were dark and deep and were the direct result of my friend Jess Lohr killing himself in August, modified by the death of my father in July.
All this with the previous year of dealing with angst from my previous failed relationship and fighting the fight of being single (sad and pathetic "please love me") vs being willfully single (Hey nice to meet you, I would not mind touching your bits, although I do not need to because my life is whole and complete with or without you. You DO make me smile though, so would you like to dance?"). As you may have guessed, it's a lot harder to be willfully single. Building up your self esteem and awareness of yourself is a long and difficult road.
By the way, Flo Jo. Learning to juggle spatulas in Ann Arbor, and meeting everyone there who is awesome and supportive and wonderful. I wanted to twirl fire, but didnt get a chance to because of the job I started. I wanted to learn acrobatic trapese things, but did not get the opportunity... one for the bucket list me thinks. I say this because this was a ray of hope and sunshine in this intense emotional climate, and I aim to go back somehow someway.
SO ALL OF this was building up while I was sitting there listening to Ivan Stang prepping myself for the parties later that night at Con on the Cob. I knew my friends Bunny and Gator would be about and John Arcadian and Lance and Amber Miller would be carousing as well. I was ready to blow off major steam and I was inspired!
For the party at the USS Casual, I was dressed that night in my red Rincewind bath robe. I had Marti Gras Beads, glowing light gloves, Spider Jerusalem glasses, my fedora and swanky pants... and of course... my Spatula! I was "ready to dance" as I am wont to say.
Anyway I won't go into details, but I met a girl at this party I will refer to as "Blue". I have been smiling about it since, and it's important that I met her. On Sunday there was a band that played the washbasin, the ukulele and kazoo. I played the spatula on kitchen utensils. I was in accordance with my nature.
Serendipity. I had asked to meet her me thinks. I had prayed for a Priestess before, I had brought my spatula as a symbol so that she might see it for what it was, I have played songs in the nighttime so that she may hear it... I feel like I am being ridiculous- but there's the nature of living in accordance with one's nature. Like owning your own skin. I don't want to read too much into this, and I scarcely believe... but there has been serendipity afoot. Kind of a big deal.
When my father died in July, it happened as positively as it could have. Sure it hurts, and yes it's sad... but Mom and I pulled it together, said what we needed to and dad said what he needed to, and I was there when he went. It was a week before my Art Show, "Completely Ridiculous" that I had been building up to for two months. It was happy and wonderful and I got to play the harmonica and everyone was awesome. The Dirty Damn Band played and the ladies brought their skillz! I made money enough to pay rent! Ten shades of Birthday YES!
This past August was hard though. Jess Lohr killed himself. He was the sort of guy that got the joke, and tried to make sure you saw it, but took it so seriously that he never laughed himself... no he did laugh - All the time... he just thought no one else saw the joke. He threw awesome parties, sang in a band - and played harmonica in fact - he always drew the most awesome cartoons... I even included his art in my show. I saw him the Sunday before he died and watched "Cowboys and Aliens" with him. I sensed there was something unspoken with him, and I should have asked about it... but I just thought he just might have been fighting with his wife, and they were working to making it better.... I didn't know...
All I do know that from that August 18th until Screamsters on Sept 15th, I was lost and broken.
SO YOU KNOW FAIR READER!- DRINKING DOES NOT FUCKING CURE DEPRESSION!!!!!! I FUCKING MEAN IT!!!! It robbed me of any coping mechanisms that I could use to deal properly! You need HIGHER COGNITIVE ABILITY TO DEAL WITH THAT KIND OF DEPRESSION! I drank for a couple days and It solved nothing... and if I kept drinking, shit would not have gotten solved!
SO WHAT WORKS? Doing something that you have never done before, or something that gives you a lot of emotional release. Being a Screamster (scaring the shit out of people at Cedar Point for money) helped immensely, as did learning to juggle. Affirming life and what is important is also key. I dont care if you are sad do it anyway! It'll be different for everybody, but the hallmarks are the same. Playing the blues makes a difference!
Starting in June, we told dad he was going to die. I had been talking to him before then, and we would actually have good conversations. The day after we told him, his mind and words were gibberish. It's like he just decided and gave up. Once we got him home we thought it would be months of care. I was planning an art show, but we would make it through. You have no idea how happy we were to master the art of diaper changing! It pulled us together in masterful ways that oddly, I long for now. Hospice was good to have and everything helped.
Anyway, when you don't know how to die, and you let your health go due to the Diabeetus, blood sepsis, and lack of exercise, it apparently takes about three weeks. Not months. Also The way they breath is a good indicator. Aspirating food and liquids is a good indication of a possible death rattle incoming. IT DOES NOT MEAN IT ABSOLUTELY!!!!!! (So medical professionals, I know, I know) but it's the beginning of the end unless there's a will being it to live.
In May, Dad was in the home and I would visit. May was... different than now, and the April entry was a good indication of my thoughts then.
So what did I learn from all of this? There is no easy answer, but the catch phrase goes like this:
Be yourself, dreams can come true - IF you work toward them WITH the right frame of mind, Looking Foolish is part of the fun, My spatula is in fact magical, also MAGICK (with or without the "K") - is fucking real, and Life is Short... but way longer than you think, so if you are depressed, MAKE THE FUCKING MOST OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - note the exclamation points?
Also I write this more for myself and the semblance of wanting to sound really cool:
"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."
I really have to read "Dune".
Signing off,
Chris Curran - Artist - GrillNinja - Wielder of the Sacred Spatula - Pirate Ninja.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
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