All That Randomness

It’s Monday. I survived the anniversary of The Amazing Bob’ first death. Yes, the weekend was a down and teary one BUT I’m on the other side. Today I meet my back surgeon to talk about my blooming thoracic tumor garden and, later this week – on July 4th, is the fourth anniversary of TAB’s final way too fucking early and I’m-TOTALLY-NOT-cool-with-this demise.

I’m buckled up. I’m ready. I’m keeping in mind that I gotta just experience my emotions in real time – feel what I feel. Stuffing them down, putting on a “happy” face is self destructive and stupid. Why? The unpretty fee-fees are gonna come out anyway. Better to be aware of them, have the rage, excruciating pain and do my ugly crying here at home rather than in line at Trader Joe’s, eh?
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I only mention it but, shouldn’t Russia offering Afghan militants bounties to off U.S. soldiers be bigger news? 45 has known SINCE March and has done nothing but kiss Putin’s ass. No increased sanctions, no slap on the wrist, nada. First the Incompetent in Chief denied being briefed. This morning I read that the Maybellined Treasonweasel shit-tweeted that he wasn’t told because the intel wasn’t deemed credible. 

Yeah sure, Spanky. What’s lightyears away from credible is YOU. Everyone knows, your renfields and dimmest fanbois excepted, that if your mouth is open, you’re lying.
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The moment that an artist takes notice of what other people want, and tries to supply the demand, he ceases to be an artist, and becomes a dull or an amusing craftsman, an honest or a dishonest tradesman. He has no further claim to be considered as an artist.
~ Oscar Wilde

The best part about being an “amusing artisan” is that you can, to one degree or another, support yourself with your art. That’s something I’ve never really attempted.

Why not?

A) My shit’s quirky and doesn’t have wide appeal – I know that. Dunno that I’m an “artist” but I’m def not an “amusing artisan.”
B) I didn’t have start up cash, a cabbage cushion from which rent, wine and cookie bills could be paid.
C) I suck gigantic Bantha wang at self-promotion.
D) I NEEDED a regular health insurance providing gig...duh.

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The Broken Column – Frida Kahlo

For some there is no music
No lights
No fire
No untamed madness that breathes life
There is work
Anguish
Frustration
Rage
Despair
A dullness that rings like wooden thunder
~ Henry Rollins

I got no music but I have lights, (camera, action) fire and untamed madness so, ya know, I’m good.

Alright, I have angst, frustrations and red hot anger too but I’m not so big on the despair front. Warum? Despair’s a non-starter. Despair is a pool of warm, thick molasses that swamps you in gloom. Despair doesn’t move the ball downfield and I’m headed for the motherfucking goalposts, mes amis.

I WILL survive this next spine slice up and I WILL motherfucking  thrive. Fuck man, if Frida Kahlo can paint through her pain so, the fuck, can I!

Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it.
~ W. Somerset Maugham

Right on, Bill!