Pastels on Paper.
This piece was actually drawn from a mother and daughter posing. They are both exquisite creatures, and it is the only time I have seen such a thing in alll the life-painting and life-drawing sessions I have been to in all my paint-spattered life. It was very beautiful to see.
AND NOW FOR SOMETHING considerably different and possibly not relevant at least to the above comment…
“A little learning is a dangerous thing. Drink deep or taste not that Pierian spring. Where shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking deeply sobers us again.”
I can’t remember who said that, probably a romantic poet, they were, after all, tossers.
I remain intoxicated with lips cracked and parched: Here I sit on my chair with my little skinny legs doing the compulsory mental patient bounce. Must read read read until the earth opens for me or I dissolve into my own convoluted and twisting human stories; leaving a noticeably unfilled pair of Spiderman underwear.
I have three wishes. I had them worked out by the time I was ten or so:
b) Eternal youth.
iii) A nice bit of invulnerability so that I don’t end up some freak-show still living even though I was decapitated in a really unlikely meerkat mauling.
Though being a zombie may be cool. No dress standards… able to wander up to women unknown to me and bite them!
If I had even the least shred of belief in dark and hungry gods… if I could believe in the existence of Satan rather than having learned some of the archeological history behind his name… Then I would deal with them. I would make pacts, oh yes.
It doesn’t matter. I have no such belief. Nor could I ever dissemble in some dark coven of internet idiocy. Not without the explicit purpose of making fun of them as much as possible as often as possible. “Dude, don’t you think if there was a necronomicon, it would have been published by now!? PUT DOWN THE VIRGIN. STEP AWAY FROM THE VIRGIN. She is not yours to play with! Right, good. Go away. You can’t support any of your ideas even to yourself. Try reading some philosophy. It begins with a “P””.
(Paul hands virgin girl a card “Hi I am Paul! I am an art guy. Want to go get some ice cream?”)
I decided upon my wishes well and truly before I could even form the questions that would sear me for the rest of my life, before I could pretend with oh such conviction that there were any actual ANSWERS.
There are the reasons for this desire that I have scraped from the dignity and pain of my life. And they are not astonishing or even very profound.
And with each step, each click of understanding there is a chill, a wash of almost holy wonder. Always shadowed by the destroyer, the ruination, the eater of our lives and the only teacher any of us will ever know: time.
I would like to keep learning, forever. I like learning.
I would like to know the far future, enraptured and in awe of what I cannot possibly imagine in the present.
I would like to live through ages, (oh ages yet!) and watch suns devour themselves before me. Watch worlds collide. To have my skin burned by a supernova, transforming and dying in an immolation worthy of a God.
What we are is constructed of such a bare and empty portion of the reality: There is only ever what we can perceive through our hand-slights of reason, mathematics and machinery. It has never mattered whether this is illusion or not. It is this is it it is all that we have.
Even the time that we feel passing us as we wake and sleep and eat and fuck is unlikely to define anything but a perception evolved; constructed as a useful evolutionary salient.
Our perspective, our mind more miraculous than anything else on this earth: is a production of an ugly succession of eliminations. What fools we are. Left to this earth, our minds left to us, a great reptilian power still swaying what hold and choice – whatever grip we might have.
But let it continue. Let the illusion persist, and the pain. I want to live.
“Give me life, give me pain. Give me my… self again.” Tori Amos. Give me her too.