Why am I here?

PLAY THIS AS U READ:



Here I am 30 years old in fucken BFE michigan makin less than half the fucken standard income required to be considered impoverished. WHAT. THE. FUCK? where did i go wrong? was it because i wanted to actually LEARN at school and improve my then craft of painting? was it when i decided to gain knowledge instead of just a piece of paper that was practically promised to help me get a decent job, only to find out it'll help me only to inch others out in a fight for minimum wages? where did i go wrong? is it because im a douche that's lead himself to believe that he ACTUALLY has something to say? something important?

i ain't shit.

i am no different. i am no better. i am shit.

i thought myself the most goal-oriented individual amongst the circle of ppl i ran with. now what? now where am i? EVERYONE ELSE has not just a JOB, but a FUCKEN CAREER!

when otis college changed their curriculum for fine arts, i bailed in the hopes that i would find education elsewhere. money grew tight and tighter. so tight, in fact, i could no longer paint. i simply couldn't afford the fucken supplies. BOB ROSS IS A FUCKEN BASTARD WHORE DOUCHEBAG WORTHLESS PIECEOFSHIT MOTHERFUCKER AND IM GLAD THE SONUVABITCH IS FUCKEN DEAD AND I HOPE HIS DEATH HURT CUZ HE AND FUCKEN GRANDMA HOBBY PAINTERS MASTURBATING THEIR EGOS WITH BE-GESSO'D HANDS FUCKEN RUINED THE ART WORLD! AND SO HAVE THE OBSOLETE GALLERIES! THEY'VE ALL DRIVEN THE FUCKEN PRICES OF ART SUPPLIES TO UNFAIR AND INCOCEIVABLE AND UNMANAGABLE FUCKEN PRICES!!!


so i wake up from my fucken bullshit delusional dream and find myself living in hick-town USofFUCKEN-A without paints, without money, without career, completely unknown and horribly unwanted. i might as well drop off the face of the fucken earth. fuck it all. blow my fucken brains out. just like kurt. fuck u all.

so now im writing becuz pen and paper is SOOOO much cheaper because hoity-toity fucken ART is valuable while words and paper are USELESS. great. i've turned to the one other thing i can do (writing) and it's useless. ppl TREAT THEIR CHILDREN TO DOSES OF READING AS PUNISHMENT IN THIS FUCKEN PIECE OF SHIT WORLD!!! and i somehow expect to make a living, to find value in my heart, and touch the hearts and brains of others with this most uselss of technology called words.

words are a dime a dozen.

advice is free.

blogs are free.

speech is free cuz it has NO value.

who am i? how did i get here? where did i come from? fuck heiddeger! i'd like to bend his ass over and fucken tear his sphincter in 15 dif places!!!

i try to talk to 'friends' about this shit. know what they tell me? "you'll make it, charles."

i've been told that for more than 2 decades. 2 decades worth of experience has proven all my friends wrong. 2 decades of evidence refute their sentiments and their drippy sentimental bullshit.

i want answers.

Q: what happened to my life?

A: the generations raised by the children of the 60s and 70s - those older generations of free love and tune in, turn on and drop out - have raised a generation of idiots told they can make a difference, the first generation to plug in, log on and drop out. We believed them becuz what else could we do?! latchkey kids raising themselves on a steady diet of sitcom philosophy and pop tarts and dope and parents that stopped only long enuff to ever say "u can make it if u try".

bullshit. we now know the futility of the 60s. ahab is still at the helm and firing rockets at anything that moves. we are proof. we are the idiot masses fucking and fighting and dancing in apocalyptic sunshine. no direction. no direction. no direction. and i fear no purpose. same as it ever was.


same as it ever was.


same...


*melts back into the masses*