Heather I choose to be my life partner for as long as I can foresee. Nothing much to say on that.
I’ve been hiding my tendency toward conservatism, treating what exposures I allowed myself to these ideas as merely treats along the side of the narrow path of article after book after lecture of whatever is being sold on the left. My thoughts summarized are that the dialogues on the left move faster than the rate of processing and dissemination, such that to enter their rank is like entering a pyramid scheme of a bogus product, and the only way to climb up is though hooking underlings into disseminating your curated regurgitations. Clout is gained without primary texts or exchange of ideas, rather the left project the darknesses within onto others in pseudo backpack rap battles, where to cleverly twist a riddle is enough to move on. If they lose, they move on, no recourse. That’s where I stand on that, but I still read mostly leftist stuff, to continue to investigate; ‘maybe it just hasn’t clicked yet, I think over time’, but most claims apart from stuff like the history of workers movements as documented by Howard Zinn don’t hit home, and remain unsubstantiated: and even then, what’s happened in my lifetime in regards to labor movements, (or corporate endorsed revolutions- an if it goes slippery it can be blamed on nazis in the midsts, or whatever, and the solution always seems to be more government control), contextualizes the Zinn, the spin. What’s happening to the American politic, if you permit yourself to see falsities like the electoral processes, and the mock-attempted grilling of for example the new Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett on issues irrelevant to her prospective job, including asking her whether she has sexually assaulted anyone, or been assaulted herself; very unprofessional, and yet, it flies, you might alleviate yourself from further entanglement, and therefrom entanglement altogether (I hope).
Okay enough vitriol; it might have been a mistake enrolling in a political illustration class with Steve Brodner a few years ago. I thought this would be a place of nuance, but how wrong I was. It was 2017 and all that was being turned in were trump-pig caricatures, and our zoom meetings became anti-trump sessions. I tried to keep current and considered ‘perhaps i should feign outrage as my classmates’. But never could. I drifted further from the left, and now I’m one of those 30 year old chumps who watches politics like sports. Bummer.
Studio life is going well, somewhat. I worked a lot over the last few months, thinking I was building. A nest egg. Yet, some life expenses pressed into my accounts; girlfriend I will mention because I currently commute an hour and a half to see her. My rent is $600 a month. I bought a used car a few months back when My grandmother’s old Oldsmobile shit the bed. I joked I wanted a Subaru to get laid with, knowing full well I also intentioned to hopefully settle as well. See, I moved to the country and got into the Youtuber Ryan Dawson, who’s among other things anti-left and anti-war and anti-neo-conservative. So through him I was turned onto Ted K, the unabomber, and thankfully instead of being recommended any documentary or spun story on him, I printed out a copy of his manifesto, which succinctly outlines the strategies, motivations, and hippocracy of the left, further sobering me of this poison. From there I felt also remedied of what had disrupted my relationship with my self and somewhat riddled my relationships.
It’s very grounding.
This is not to say that this was the only thing keeping me from a Healthy relationship. Truly, the dating scene is replete with ill-willed stock. My hope with Heather is to nourish her true beauty and absolve her from the tribulations of a likewise poisoned dating scene. She’s too good for that and I want her to thrive thrive thrive. She shows the right instincts- to help others, and to live away from the city. Her stance early on about children was to not have them, but when I showed my cards that I’d turned that page and would have them in time (I’d one week prior emailed an old classmate of mine to tell her I was still in for the promise of siring her kids, to which she replied amicably, though now she was happier as a lesbian; even better, I thought; I’d just re-read some of The Argonauts), she likewise showed her hand that yes she also wanted them. She wants mine. I want hers. I found a true friend in Heather; and amalgam of former lovers, friends, family, she is my world truly, and the experience of falling is one I savor and cherish.
So we are moving to Lancaster. So far away from the city, and far enough away from her family as to facilitate the fall, to celebrate the fall. I threw money at an apartment, and I’ll move there first, then she’ll follow in a month or two. I’ve met her family and she’ll meet mine in short time. I will propose to her soon.
So that’s where I’m at.
Oh yeah, studio life! I’m painting much closer to the heart now. I painted cover paintings of Thomas Chambers compositions and two of those from Foster Cadell, and then made a dozen and a half small acrylic-gouache paintings of photo-based landscapes on panel. I sold three of these at an art yard sale, and am having a few others professionally framed for $30 apiece, from where they will go to an upscale farmer’s style marketplace near West Chester for the holiday season. This placement affords me the peace of mind to embark on more personal work, and now my day-job stuff is relaxing a bit as we approach our deadline of their (the Mezzanotte family’s) daughter’s wedding date.
I want to complete the paintings I’ve started now for a show in American Mortals Hair salon in Philadelphia, by December. The world I’m building is one of funky landscapes haunted by graffiti, and otherwise unrequited shapes. I guess another way to put it is this; a return to nature having tried to fit my square-peg-self into a round hole template. The dissonance upon interfacing with that which only takes; speaking of technology and the culture it has spawned. Perhaps then this work is that of healing.
I live in a guy’s house now. He’s the lover of a woman who is cheating on her spouse. It’s a strange house where the parts disparately grasp at wholeness without attainment. Set on a trapezoidal lot, it is comprised of additive decks, sunrooms, patios, and the like. I stay in my room and have not unpacked my boxes since my three months of living here. I cook very little as to not over use the kitchen.
Heather too lives in an intermediary place. She lives in the basement of her employers, albeit a nice-i-fied basement- one that’s built to resemble a livable space for passive income for the homeowners. Like a serf, she takes care of their kids for money, which she dutifully pays back to the employers to the tune of $1000 per month. She teaches a classroom of five kids- a’la pod learning, post COVID-19.
So the Lancaster apartment for both of us represents a celebration of our love and a step away from our employments. We might keep our jobs, and thus commute, but hopefully also we will, in time, optimize even our work closer to our living spot. Better food, better living conditions, and an exploration of our love and symbiosis. Rent will be $1200 divided between the two of us. Electric and gas will go up, and Internet, while food will likely go down. Incomes I hope will trend sideways then up. Can’t wait.
