Friday, February 24, 2012

Old paintings and robots

Happy to help

I am a gaggle of Englishman in a brothel, receiving cheap favours out of pity from whores.
I've no money and no currency in this economic climate.
I'm drinking at twelve and fucking nothing.
The circulation of thoughts in my skull has halted and now my blood cools.
Entropic heat death.
Bitter cold.
Not even a polite 'fuck you'.
So whatever, fuck it.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Thoughts on my painting

I am heavily influenced by both modern abstract painting and contemporary science fiction. The former is (for me at least) a vehicle for the concept of utopia, the latter, often beautifully, captures the idea of dystopia. For a while now I have enjoyed attempting to mash these ideas together and unless motivated to do otherwise I shall continue along this path.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Properties of unity I II III

New work finally completed and I couldn't be happier! Nice to feel a little bit of reasonable progress emerging.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Being an adult is knowing the difference between indulgence and self abuse

My feelings and thoughts are contrary and persistent.

Contrary in as much as my reason dislocates me from my feelings.

It would be nice to have the two run parallel and resonate from time to time, but that rarely happens.

Contrary in as much as this fresh hurt feels like an old ache. 

I know this love can only injure you and I the longer it continues. and it is the fear of this that has motivated my/our decision.

Fear and reason have taken me from you.

Fear of being mangled and torn in an uncontrollably, intense emotional way.

The last time I felt this way it took me years to get over it and I truly fear that I'm in that position again.

Once again however it is my decision.

Me inflicting hurt on both parties.

I feel weaker for having made this decision and it is has made me less happy.

Reason can be moronic in the short term and it does nothing to compensate me for the loss I feel over not being able to be with you.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

An exhibtion I'm involved in

Stop talking

Communication seems like such an impossible task sometimes. Language, or at least our use of it, seems pointless and dysfunctional. Subjectivity reigns in our attempt to exchange ideas, raw experience. Perhaps this is part of the attraction that art and science hold for us? Art embraces ambiguity , either through rejection or propagation, and science attempts to precisely quantify what we do not know. Still, it often seems that we are capable of nothing more than speaking in falsehoods and widening the gulf that exists between the numerous intelligent agents we believe we
interact with everyday. Eh...I guess our use of language routinely fails us but on occasion the environmental component of language and our small wet computers agree to speak to each other and a measure of clarity can be achieved, however infrequently.

Thursday, February 9, 2012


The thing I want the most is the thing I cannot have. This situation makes me very, very sad.

So close...

Forgive the rant, life is good :)

Bourbon. I would really like a glass of bourbon. Something to take the edge of this fucking bus ride. Maybe some tequila? Yep. A beer too. I really should start riding again. This is no way to spend my time. It's really unpleasant being in such close proximity to so many others. Stinky tinned apes. Full of stupidity and covered in cysts and in grown hairs. Weeping sores and pussy morning eyes. Polite conversation is nothing more than a dry crust that barely covers the hostility and impatience that I and my fellow travelers obviously feel for each other. Thats enough complaining of bus travel, I can stop if I like. The sky is a lovely blue today and it's a wonderful temperature outside. More importantly, I'm going to get to work in time for another coffee. Thank you life, for this seeming unending cascade of simple pleasures.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Drone I II III

I'm going to drink to my disgust and disappointment

In a tin, packed hard with a hundred monkeys.
A standard package.
Swarmed by mediocrity and brilliance, consistent banality and the occasional flashing beauty.
Balding assholes and hopeless stained tramps, bleached deep to a pointless clarity, all running to internal mission statements, devoid of ambiguity and free of meaning.

I hate catching the bus.


Streamline and economise.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Quality digital prints in minutes!!!

New work. Almost complete.


I'm scared of my own future; I'm disgusted by my past.

David Baerwald.