Hit me with your rhythm stick! Maybe that’s what I should have titled this one. In any case, I think I’m going to hit a little heavier today and share something from the book I’ve been working on for the last several years, Queer as Mud.Continue reading
Maybe you’re wondering how mine went since Saturday was probably one of the most important days ever. Well, the verdict is in and according to the jury (the many little birdies and forest animals that surround me and follow me wherever I go), it went fantastic! The whole night played out beyond my expectations, even though I really didn’t have any expectations. Honestly, I just wanted to get through it. Which I did. It wasn’t as torturous as I thought it would be either, probably because I felt so incredibly supported.
Yesterday, after spending Monday and Tuesday prepping, wrapping, and packing up my work into two cars, Michael and I drove through the the famous Los Angeles traffic into Santa Monica: the extreme East Side to the West, 14 paintings on canvas in my car, and 15 framed drawings in his.
This is the crux of my anxiety. I’ve been hurrying up and waiting for too long. It’s been putting me into such a lousy mental state, it ain’t no bag of clowns. I wanted to title this entry, Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Which would better capture how I really feel. Because, while the world passes me by, I’m left here, sitting on my hands looking like a coward, and perhaps I am. Or, at least I have been until now. What do I mean by that? Well, brace yourself, because this is the bomb before the book.