Life IS Loss

I lost my dongle the other night. It had years’ worth of unbacked work on it. Art, writing, photography, music, the lot. How could I be so careless? The last time I lost a dongle (they always have loads of unbacked work on), I found myself punching the wall over and over in frustration. It’s hard to describe how important an artist’s portfolio is to him- or herself. The process of loss takes days if not weeks to be fully digested, when certain forgotten projects from the past crop up in the mind, projects now deemed gone forever into the nether. Unread, unviewed, unobserved. I liked to look back upon my body of work and boast about myself internally, it amounts to the only good thing I’ve ever done upon this blue spinning rock. How could I be so careless?

But so be it. Life IS loss. I don’t wanna get too deep on the subject, because I’m likely to start weeping or something, but do you know what I mean? I’ve lost my little brother in a police station, I’ve lost my dad to cancer, I’ve lost a double miscarriage, I’ve lost the rest of my family due to estrangement. I’ve lost my mentor, I’ve lost my sanity, I’ve lost my physical appearance. I’ve almost lost my soul. Where does a silly old dongle rank amongst that fiasco? My work means nothing, in a way. I believe God will appreciate it in a different realm for all eternity. He’s read it, He’s viewed it, He’s observed it. God is my witness, and, I believe, with my creativity over the years, that I have served Him well. I didn’t let anyone down with my paintings and my message boards and my compositions and my collages and my sketches and my sculptures. It’s just a shame that none of it remains. Only their creator, my good humble self, who can recreate again, and never stop expressing. Expression, I also believe, or depression.

What if I lost this blog? Then it’s no fear. All I need is a pen and a piece of paper and my giftings from the Good Lord remain intact. I’ve always said this, but give me a studio and I’ll give you the world. I’ll always remember my artistic production with fondness and love.

Imagine if I lost my home through a bomb or a storm or a forest fire, or if I was a sole survivor in war-torn territory? Things could always be worse. I would burn all my books in a heartbeat rather than lose my love for God and his Children. Love is the most precious commodity on this blue spinning rock. On the other hand, I could have my own exhibitions going on but with a dark hateful heart. What good is art then, without a loving sentience to appreciate it? I offer all of my talents up to God, what’s done is done, I made a mark on myself if not on anybody else, and I pray for new giftings in this latest chapter of my life. I know that one of my vocations is talking to you, whoever you are or wherever you may be, about art and about my recovery and about my life. Our relationship is just starting. If anything happens to this website then I’ll simply get up and start a simpler one, but I must always keep writing, because writing keeps me.

I’m 7 Days into beating my addiction. A week ago today I was sat on a park bench scoring speed from a stranger in the cold. I took it home and sat in a dark room all night fapping on it, no pornography involved. I haven’t watched porno in a month, but last night I had the most erotic dreams, involving women and men spurting all over the place, taking me back to the banned content I came into contact with as an adolescent. That would wreck the rest of my life up now, if I came across stuff like that again. So would going back to the familiar interracial fodder I was used to on the internet. I haven’t watched it online for about three years. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to own the internet again. They say 50% of it is porno. It would surely wreck the rest of my life up. Cocaine and porno make me a very ill bunny.

 

Blog Talk

This blogging business is proving a hard graft today. In the goody olden days I’d be writing about music, art and ceramics, but now I feel like it’s just a plain boring psychosis testimony log. There’s nothing boring about psychosis, mind, but you know what I mean. I’ve lost so much in my life over recent years. All my ceramic collection got demolished when I trashed my flat, it was a beautiful acquisition; I really miss it a lot. I also plopped my personal PC computer laptop in the bath because a spirit told me to get rid of the filthy videos stored on its hard drive. Bit of a drastic measure like, I know. I used to do all of my artwork on that computer. I also don’t even own a keyboard at the moment to do some music on, I’m stuck with a haggard aged organ which sounds like crap. So my creative outlets are at a severe disadvantage compared to what they used to be. The intent is still there lying dormant within me however, and I am keen to produce.

I’m surprised this blog is still even going, as the email provider it is associated with went out of business ages ago. Via some small miracle, the email address is still active, even though I haven’t used it for a number of years. I’m stunned that this site is still operational, but I’m not complaining a bit, as I need this platform to express myself. It’s become like a psychosis diary lately, but in the wider scheme of things it can be whatever it wants. It would be nice to write about other people, like my peers and idols, then publicise the results on social media, but I lost my social media platform when I lost another email address, for some reason. I invested ten years of art, writing and music on Facebook so it’s a bit like a slap in the face to lose it. And I had some fabulous connections on Twitter (or X as it’s called now). It’s a sad and sorry shame really, I tell myself that I don’t need it, similar to my television, but secretly I miss it dreadfully. It makes me feel slightly despondent and disconsolate.

When my younger brother was murdered by police (or died in police custody, as they call it), I started a twitter account in his name to spread awareness about black deaths in custody suites. I feel like that would be really getting somewhere by now, if that account had stayed active, but all because I lose one poxy email address, my whole empire comes crashing down around me. Not only that, but I’ve also lost a dongle with a wealth of material on, including several whole digital books, so I’m unable to share them here as I originally intended to do. Another sad shame. We live on, however, free to create more matter and put our heart and soul into each portion of it. Loss will not define me. I’ll not get upset. Memories are all we have and one of the most important parts of life. When I’m sat at home, not watching TV, I can think about all the great art I’ve done and all the zany books I’ve wrote and make myself contented by the mere nostalgic reminiscence of those things.