part of later writing and all of that,
in good min and rested spirit,
when I can sit and piece down each and all of that,
you know, like
somehow becoming the phantom/shadow of town,
getting blocked by local newspaper,
sort of shit listed by a lot of local takeover groups,
because ideas being a bit too rogue or unpredictable,
and raw and real and alive,
doesnt sit well with town tourism and money making
things, (turning towns into Portlandesque flavors.
It's a bitsum more calculated than appears.)
the lost cat thing, too... writing about someone that
aint around anymore and so on, where it doesnt
sound spiteful or heavy on the razors end
or too sharp at the end tips, you know,
but being honest about it all,
no no no, town tourism and what the whole thing became,
you know, kind of a town commodity,
not too dangerous, predictable,
lots of local writers being driven out from what that introduced,
and me taking a way deep backing out of even wanting to do any
visuals anymore after he just festered the whole thing.
See, I'm already intimately vocal about it.
I mean that person dinged up and damaged a lot of regulars,
and passionate writers,
I'd like to collect my lineage of personal ongoing and writing it out
clearly.
I liked the history of monikers however,
and everything from wartime train art to urban expression
and early hip hop subway train cars,
etc, etc. I wasnt just a dolt about it all
but much of it was haphazard indeed.
Not too easy with the tourism$$$
and to my mind, deep and deep,
it was for extremely antisocial people such as myself,
seeking a way to communicate.
Well that feller,
I know what people will spit and garb at me,
about not letting the dead rest in peace or whatever,
well I still don't like that soul'abit, however---
what they did to me, or delving into my one thing that I ever had,
an ability to connect with the public in some way,
even as a phantom or so on.
I'll go step pre-ink to the present
about all that.
Even doing cat and feline rogue designs,
and hearing when he started following around
to every creature I did
crossing them out.
Then creating a damned mess of the whole town,
doing unsinspired glop every where.
No style, no inspiration,
Just a mess without practice, giving an ok for anyone and everyone else
to just smear and toil, nothing from the heart.
There we go making the supervillian stance again, I guess that's how I am,
though, the years gone through really.
Just quickly jotting it down however.
Nobody around here has my back and thats okay
because I still want to push things,
for soul and spirit, the satisfaction of expression.
but that will all fade anyhow and my insight or documenting and
kind of linear recollection of it all can live a bit longer to say-it-out.
I don't mind, since I tried to show my heart and also raw form ever so ever
many times,
and really came spat back out my own outlier, again, then again,
you know,
to where when it was to kind of uplift the public,
I realize now that it is for self-satisfaction
and self-satisfaction alone, to exist in moniker.
Like to have one's own world be really just so apart from
what is collectively enticing to others.
It's grittier I guess but that's the way i like it. Not pulling any punches,
not sucking up to or like swaying internal feelings.
For better and for worse, about it.
But Im taking steps to relocate anyway. So I can spill however many beans
finally and thankfully.
The gallery and memories and documentations are so long and
deep in collections anyhow.
None of it funded! or granted out. Each damn time risking the risk
of some sort of either stupidity or bravado.
But an enticing inner satisfaction.
Other times having to really make due.
Who knows those because that folk is a dead hero now in the eyes of it all
after I just said hell to it after being crossed the hell out so many times in the
dumbest and sort of most cowardly way.. for.. smeared stick figures.
So I'll be in that persona, if any around there even got to hearing of my accounts
in any way, because I'll for sure be under gruff about any of it,
but that persona of being a "heel" entertainment-wise, is where I'd have to
character act about it.
What can I say though,
its more like, hard blues and rough moniker and not socially acceptable
in the deepest ways, to riff on from the deep scary oversoul,
and heavy undercurrents within.
But as said it pulls no punches.
And I'll tell me tale about it too.
But I'm not finished with my funzo
so those chapters just aren't full on donezo
so I'll try to be patient enough,
I can say however, it's a story of
Probably making some enemies or lots of people
spiting and being mad about
hearing of whatever ongoings,
then maybe after that broils or settles somewhat,
maybe some could understand too
my approach about it all.
Far enough books of visuals it could fill any how.
But I am not local tourism marketting,
or any departments of swallowable,
digestable soothing...
Its about rough lifes and being the outsider you
dont!
want to pretend to be.
and facing shit you
dont!
really have the variance or social scaffolding
to 'fit in' about.
So my monikers were that kind of thing.
Or that one thing I had,
and for a decade plus that shit was
removed from my life,
and someone who fucked it all up
ends up dyin' then being memoralized,
and all that. But I have that blessing
Of letting time go on.
and clearing it up to myself at least.
All to all I'm seeing it also that you cant
or its not about ever really "winning anyone over"
just that it was a blast in a way, and a heartful thing here and there,
to interact in such a way.
but its taken over by strict tourism now,
and more than yuppified. I'm the voice that noticed that
and stayed true to being on the damned fringe,
and again that isnt palatable
so it was best for town and all to keep eyes pried off my curisiosities
and direct more toward something like someone the town just let
poison up and die while they needed help!
but now they have an idol about it all.
Circumstances of a really foibled advent of the psyche.
I'd of told him to watch his admirers,
they may have been what did him in the grandest.
Well at anything,
with monikers and poems and whatever makes me me,
I dont feel open arms around here at all and am not asking to feel such.
I built a little history and had family history and all that,
But its overtaxed and yuppified,
and judgemental in the strangest ways
where you'd have to observe it and sense it or feel it
the way I do, asking my spirit to pick up on it...
its a way of being able to afford being in a social club or whatever,
and if you cant like they do, ya wind up me,
phantomesque or whatever.
But there are outlets in the country more suitable,
to maybe,
brash seeking smooth notes here and there.
Whatever that means, but, I'm akin to this ol county doesnt like me very
damned much at all. And I cant sing the new age thing
you go your way and I'll go mine.
I love life ever so but my way to live and of living,
isnt to mingle with the richy renegades and kiss butt and chum it up
and dance political posturing and all that.
I want to make my life the art.
Figuring me out if you can,
but don't block my airways or try to rule path my own directions.
They had that one guy lined up to doing such
and made a freaking dead idol out of him now about it,
didnt save him, didnt care for him. I feel more for him in that way,
that he was used by em. I'd of felt more for him or understood the whole
fanaticism about it if he didn't disrespect and fuck up the one thing
in moniker I had going for me about it. So was like an enemy from
a separate ink side, in a way. Like faces and heels. Certainly not jobbers!
I can spruce all that up to make a little more sense.
With image and draft and video!
but I dont owe the ol world a thing and the world doesnt owe me a thing either
but I'd enjoy venting a bit of what I walk around having on the back of my mind.
if I can see it all as a path and testing of tolerability, too,
some better hearted humor could express the foible.
I'll try to find a location I can live, first of all,
and press up books,
and perform music, do this or that.
Im not a trust fund kid!
Im not w- e- f funded!
I aint granted by any! commissionion town.
People treat ya like piss around here. Its ritzy and some other lots of words about it,
and a new hub for ultra hi-rises. and me pointing that kind of shit out doesnt fly
too well with tourism and commission centers who needed social hispterism
as the flagfront, or agreeable kinds of buttkissin.
So just existin as I do about it outspoken burns so many mini bridges.
But I like the stuff all raw, the sounds, senses, sights.
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