Saturday, February 19, 2011
All for the love of vagina!
So I’m sittin’ here with my thumb up my ass waiting for what apparently another ‘no show’ model. No big fuckin’ deal, it’s the first break I’ve had since the circus got serious. A fist full of aspirin, some hiking boots and a back brace and I’m pullin’ 11 hour days, at least ten of that bein’ actual painting time. The rest of it is spent fuckin’ with the studio and smokin’ pot. Things are movin’ forward faster than I thought I could take care of them but somehow I seem to manage.
I took a big chance sellin’ the Kelvinator to buy supplies for the shop but in hindsight there was no other way to go about it. I’m one bike short but I have enough supplies to paint the Sistine Chapel. Seven original paintings, 30” x 40” or bigger before Smoke Out East…I’m already three into it.
It’s studio time and nothing but. Sore, beat up and not worth a fuck I wake up in the morning looking forward to crankin’ the stereo and paintin’ shit that shouldn’t be painted. Everything has faded into nothing. Broads, bike rides, mayhem and chaos has been obliterated by the sound of Static-X pumpin’ out of the subs…the paint flies accordingly.
I ain’t out of the game, bikes are God and I have my Savoir just waiting for me to get past this other part of my life and then we’ll be slammin’ ourselves towards oblivion. Until that time everything has to be patient. Nothing else matters.
The studio is loading up with paintings and other things that are important to me and I lose sleep not being on enough guard. I should be hiding behind the couch just waiting for someone to break in and then I’ll blow their fuckin’ head off. Livin’ in the Hut was that separation and also was falling apart faster than I could keep up with it.
So once again, I’m moving into my studio. I had a buddy throw a bedroom up for me. I had full intention to be a bigger help but a day before we got started I blew my back out again reachin’ for my gun so I could holster it before I headed to work. Needless to say I was damn near useless when it came to the build. I could probably dead lift an anvil but my back could blow out picking up a Styrofaom cup. You just never know what will do it. It sucks…boo-fuckin’-hoo.
Fuck it, aspirin and a back brace and I keep on painting, day in and day out with my nose pressed against a canvas. It’s my focus right now and to me it’s ‘chopper’ as Hell. If you can’t figure out how this is the biggest fuck you I can give to the non-believers I’m not going to able to convince you otherwise. This rose smells like shit…might as well step in it! “GTP”