May Day

Violionese Parents 2023. Acrylic on cardboard, 16 x 16"

20th Anniversary of the decesaement of father-in-law Joe Clark.
20th Anniversary of mass murderer George Bush’s Mission Accomplished announcement (“Mission Accomplished”: a Presidential euphemism for evisceration of of Iraqi seven-year olds, and their relatives).
My father has pancreatic cancer jumped to lungs.
I gave away the above painting for pizza box cardboard.
I am a man of no menopause with a hot flash last night.
A pervasive uneasiness that tempts me to drink every second, every hour.
A pervasive uneasiness that prevents release from drinking every second, every hour.
Birdsong in the garden.
Unemployable working for free.
Unfree and always pretending.
Attached to ego.
A pervasive uneasiness that tempts me to drink every second, every hour.

Overly Protective Urnch 2023. Acrylic on cardboard, 16 x 16"

Some people have $100,000/year guaranteed until they die.
Some very lucrative careers do not work harder than me. I can prove this. Though you’ll have to watch non-stop until your head spins off.

Therefore money and work is unjust. Of course. As it should be.

Teachers and health care professionals should be the highest paid professions, but only if they teach and health care how I say.

Bow to the waste haulers keeping your garbage a dirty secret.

Egoism is make believe.

Last week I spent hours and hours painting on cardboard with a pervasive uneasiness that tempted me to drink every second, every hour. They’re paintings of creatures, post-human, in a world of elements re-proportioned.
I grew a pot plant last year, so I took a hit on Thursday to keep me from the dullness of drinking. Smoke makes me thirsty. I drank two tall beers and talked to myself high and drunk.

Visited my granddaughters who are Iraqi loved ones. Then drove to Ithaca for a tango memorial to a friend. A ballroom of tango dancers. Beautiful women and nine lechy old men to have their pick of beautiful women to dance with. One guy’s potbelly had to be turned away to make room for the sway of his beautiful partner.

I am older than you.

Popillol Poet in the Grass 2023. Acrylic on cardboard, 16 x 16"

For me the answer is simple but I am married and have granddaughters. A one way ticket to a land where an artist can hide with a Venmo account updated monthly by a patron who cares. The locals are aware of my illegal expatriation yet not tattling because I bring them something they already have and want lots more of.

And that is this: A pervasive uneasiness that tempts me to drink every second, every hour, though I don’t need to because we are dedicated to living unamerican lives.

But for most of us the day is divided into work-time and play-time, the work consisting largely of tasks which others pay us to do because they are abysmally uninteresting. We therefore work, not for the work’s sake, but for money—and money is supposed to get us what we really want in our hours of leisure and play. In the United States even poor people have lots of money compared with the wretched and skinny millions of India, Africa, and China, while our middle and upper classes (or should we say“income groups”?) are as prosperous as princes. Yet, by and large, they have but slight taste for pleasure. Money alone cannot buy pleasure though it can help. For enjoyment is an art and a skill for which we have little talent or energy.

—Alan Watts

Prairie Wints Mating 2023. Acrylic on cardboard, 16 x 16"

Here is a nonsensical poem of gigantic egoism from October 1996:

Because We Love We Float in His Uterine Jelly

Reflections on these days with you
How could I demand anything from them
when I got the bliss of the real womb
earth and universe now?

Every man should want something pink to follow him
but no man is in demand
so there’s a fat chance of that happening
Pinkie

Let me put it this way:
To my right are clouds the color
Indian gray
and two pine tops
which beneath
nothing but wavering flowers.

And to my left
the road
where you my love have gone
wanting October’s blue-gray coolness.

My love, I call you always
to see how every life circles around us

So ahead of my body
a fullness of green healthy leaves
and behind me a thought of their bright yellow turning
a thousand little school buses
into slow autumn pageants of splendid wetness.

They carry you, the only living child, off to school.

My love we live in a womb a million times greater
than yours doubled
My love we live in a shattering delirium of joyousness.
There is someone or something larger than us
but not greater
spending love like a good mother continuously.

I think it is the power of our easiness
and frank and unwavering passion for each other
which gives God the desire to paint perfect skies for walls.

I think that we hold the world together perfectly.
In fact, what else can they think worthwhile
than to revolve around us?

If You Leave Me 2023. Acrylic on cardboard, 16 x 16"