Monday, November 15, 2010
This is why I do what I do.
When I first started painting it was simply because I wanted to see chicks naked. Since I was born with absolutely no game painting seemed like a viable option. I started riding the Latowski all those years ago because it was the cheapest means of transportation at the time...that's all.
Then after a brief stint trying to fit in with the normal grind with an equally normal job I hit the road. Just me and the bike painting pictures for beer money. It was a grand life for a while as I beat around the East coast just doin' my thing when I could and doing odd jobs in between. Having a normal job just sucked monkey cock because I could literally see the walls inside the box.
I had a blast and got hooked on every recreational drug and form of alcohol that I could get my hand on. You name it ,I did it and everything kind of fell apart.
I spent years homeless and wasted, riding around on a bike that wasn't worth the rust it was made out of and pukin' out paintings that sucked balls just so I could get that next bottle of Jack, a few pills, a tank of fuel and maybe a set of points if I was sober enough to give a fuck if I rode or not. A few years to a decade of this and I was shot. With a few suicide attempts on the bike later I realized that my existence on this planet was a waste of time.
One day I just started to take life seriously and pick up what I was able to do and make it work. I left Florida where I was living in the gutter (so to speak) and went back to Jersey to 'kick". I made it to Jersey , locked myself in a boarding house and detoxed.
Going through DT's and operating a sweeper truck seven days a week at night I got a lot of thinking done between the shakes and every other malignity that can be associated with a sudden end to the ingestion of toxins. There I sat, shakin' like a poodle passin' a pine cone and sweeping parking lots.
I couldn't do the nine-five and I knew it. There had to be something more...so I began painting again, where ever I could.
I realized that painting was my savior and my bike was the most precious thing in my life, so I focused on them hoping they would save me.
In the basement of Blacksmith Cycles in Sussex New jersey I really put an effort forth to make something of my fucked life. I painted in a dark and dismal basement fighting depression and the need to regress into my old life...but I kept on painting and with the help of Nick the owner of Blacksmith my bike began to come back to life.
I landed a gig with THE HORSE painting pictures under the old management before Hammer took the helm and steered the ship right. I must have painted 6 or 7 paintings and my bike was on the rode again before the pieces started fitting together.
One day I got pissed off and had those humps at O.C.C. sign a rotten bologna and wrote an article...I was then hired as a staff writer and have been ever since. Now I was a writer too, and I had no idea what I was doing...and still don't. All I knew was that I loved my bike and painting had become much more then a way to see some nice ass. It is what keeps me afloat.
As the steam on this stupid assed "GTP" thing propelled it at a near snails pace I felt like I was accomplishing something and maybe there was a chance I could actually join society and I did....and I hated it.
The bike was in full bloom and people where actually buying my stuff (paintings) and I was writing about shit that blue collar bikers could relate to. Things were good and I again took off on my two wheeled misery machine...but I would always find a place to paint.
The writing was steady, the riding was non-stop and the paintings were increasing in value which meant I had to take it a little more seriously. I began dealing with a lot of people on the painting end that would NEVER understand what I was actually doing with the rest of my life.Those painting you will never see instead I showed the viewing audience the paintings that reflected what I am about...mostly.
I found myself in Tempe Arizona playing the game for all to see. Steppin' on a few toes but thinkin' this is what had to be done to move forward. I was riding a lot and writing about it. I was painting pictures nonstop. I destroyed my back and got an apartment and an over priced studio and had to paint any picture that came across the internet just to pay for it all until I did the "Fuck You" painting and then it made sense.
I was painting just to cover rent and utilities. The love for it was fading and when the Kelvinator was done I hit the road again. While on the road I realized that I had too much shit holding me down so on my return to Tempe, I packed up my shit and moved as far away a reasonable without leaving my beloved Arizona.
I nabbed a cheap studio in town and parked my $600 travel trailer in Porns backyard and went at it again.
It was a rough start but I am happy with everything now. Just me and a couple of bikes and a one eyed dog named Dead Eyed Bud. I just trimmed the fat so I could get my love of painting and bikes back again.
Living is hard down here but the pressure is off. I have the Latowski back on the road again but I only use it for rides of limited distance so my back doesn't go south. The Kelvinator is my long distance ride....but it ain't the same, not by a long shot.
Livin' is a lot harder and there ain't a chance in hell I will be impressing some little hotty to take here close off because of my financial success but I FEEL successful. I have systematically made my life cheaper so I can ride when I want to ride and paint what I want to paint. To me that is on the brink of freedom.
I have plans to be completely off the grid and able to paint pictures for blue collar guys like yourself. I will end up self sufficient living just outside of town on a hill with my studio, bikes and that one eyed fucked up dog. Give me a year.
My goal is to just live my life, ride my bike, write for the HORSE and paint what I fuckin' want to paint...but I need ammo and solar panels so I am playing the game again...but I'm dropping the prices on the paintings and charcoals so guys like us can afford them.
I'm building a haven where bikers can be bikers without the worry of what people think of them or how those bikers want to be perceived. A place to ride to, throw up a tent and let it all hang out...and then leave. A place where you respect my compound but are encouraged to have the best time ever, but I need to paint pictures for YOU to be able to do it.
I ain't asking for ANY kind of a handout. All I am asking is that you contact me and see if we can work something out so I can live on that hill, completely of the grid and you can have a painting on your wall.
Leave comments or get a hold of me at firstname.lastname@example.org. This is going to work...have a nice fuckin' day! "GTP"