in creative writing 3 this year i did this one big story made up of several poems, thirty-ish i think. didnt really finish, cause the literary mag and my ap art portfolio took over my class time and turned my life on its head and shoved it down the rabbit hole. but im planning on it…eventually. so i might start posting the sections i have completed here. because i havent been on here in like a year or so. and i feel guilty.

I hope one of these works. I like the first one….it’s funny.

my math teacher asked me today if ive sold any artwork. no. no i have not. ive never sold any artwork because no one would want my fucking artwork. thus, i must aquire a stable art job because i know nothing else, and that is a scary position to be in. i will never be the next dali or warhol. it will never happen. i might never sell a painting my whole life. i ate lunch with my painting teacher today, and she said i was talented, i laughed a little. no one cares for art anymore. its background. i think im becoming a little disenchanted with it, but as it is all i know, i guess ill just have to use those feelings to make more paintings no one will want except my family because they’re obliged. and now i have to go finish my oil painting. its of zelda fitzgerald in a club thing. it makes me cringe a little to look at it.

i dont know what im going to do with myself.

i don’t know what that means, but i like the image. anyhow. i started getting this feeling, a sort of anxiety thing i supose, that i need to hide from reality. so thats what i do. under blankets like the 4 year old who thinks that the blanket will save him from the monsters under his bed and in his closet. maybe it has something to do with my insomnia/sleep deprevation (yes, both) that i am experiencing. well, right now its just procrastination and a lack of caring for meanial grunt work. its 2:29 and i have 2 projects i should be working on, but am not as i am here instead. plus a good part of sweeney todd just started, which means i wont start working again for a little longer. ha. maybe im a subconcious masochist. i dont know if that exists or not. my eloquence is quickly fading with my understanding of logial sentence structure.

the idea of

revolution

is corrosive

and trickles down the spine

eating away the rust of complacency

and contentment.

the idea 

of revolution

is the shaken apple

foreced from saftey nets

and high perspectives

so it can be tought to land on

its own two feet.

the idea

of revolution

is liberation

with out liberators,

it is the commencement of

huddled masses

to feel they need not huddle any more,

it is the destruction of the

common man

because no man that breathes

is common,

it is victory from

the injection of a love-of-life into the masochistic

veins of society

it is a spark

that needs no berets or cigars to ignite,

just kindling in your heart

and oxygen in your lungs

so the idea of revolution

can transform from ink on dry paper

to flames that flicker

on the winds of change.

I am currently living in an old-folks home. I will be for four more days, unless my aunt gets us again for the weekend. We came here thursday night and my aunt came to get us saturday night to help her with easter and we came back here last night. So the internet and my Johnny Depp movie collection have become my new best friends. I’m going to go insane.

im becoming a moody emotionally unstable stereotypical artist type. and that’s cool. i found I really love stereotypes and iconicism, therefore I will probably be a alcoholic at one point in my life, because all great artists were. here is the painting that paralleled my drowning poem……got some acclaim from the vice principal at the NAHS inductions, didn’t particularly care for that but publicity is publicity,

i took this with my phone and had to fix the perspective with photoshop………..i need a real camera.

i don’t feel like trying to resize it so deal.

New movie count

21 Jump Street (Season 1, 2, and 3)

Benny and Joon

Blow

Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Corpse Bride

Criminal Minds (Seasons 1 and 2)

Cry-Baby

(The) Dark Crystal

Dead Man

Dinosaurs (All 4 seasons)

Don Juan DeMarco

Ed Wood

Edward Scissorhands

Finding Neverland

Finding Neverland

Green Day: International Supervideos!

Labyrinth

(The) Libertine

(The) Man Who Cried

Mean Girls

(The) Ninth Gate

Pirates of the Carribean (All three)

Pollock

(The) Rocky Horror Picture Show

School of Rock

Secret Window (!!!!!!!!!)

Sleepy Hollow

 Superstar: The Life and Times of Andy Warhol

The Tell Tale Heart/ Chiller

West Side Story

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

I have come to the conclusion that my eccentrisities, though unavoidable, were always forseeable. When I was little I pretended I was a pirate not a princess, I had constant nightmares, I usually read books about artists of ghosts, and therefore knew who Pollock and O’keefe were before the fith grade, my favorite song was “Man Eater” and “Sweet Deams(are made of this)”, I memorized half of The Raven by the time I was in 7th grade and adored Poe since the third when this old couple who volunteered to help with reading told me about The Pit and the Pendulum, they also gave us mentos so whenever I see them I think of those old people, I had an imaginary brother named Charlie, not a friend, but a brother with whom I argued constantly, I put black make-up on my Barbies with magic marker, had a thing for Vampires as far back as I can remember, went through phases of obsession after obsession, I had in-depth conversations with inanimate objects telepathically until the sixth grade, though they occasionally reserface when I find myself in a peculiar mood, and have always loved wearing period clothing in public, and therefore try to incorporate various period pieces into my everyday wardrobe.

I did a new orphan!!!!!!! I like how she turned out better, I was originally going to go for a Peter Max thing, but since she’s Guatemalan I believe, I figured Frieda Khalo was more appropriate.

The chin is kinda weird, but I can’t really fix it now, and the right eye is tilted funny, but other than that I suppose I’m fairly proud.

 Maybe I’ll stick to this painting thing…..

Today was a Mort Rainey day. Black knit hat and all. A sort of “the world is out to get me but I just want to sleep it all away” sort of day. 

It has gotten to the point where I’m relating myself to characters……special characters. But as long as I don’t have Sweeney sort of days I’m good, although a Tom Hanson or Don Juan de Marco day could be pretty scary……but that’s another story all together…