I’ve written pages upon pages, trying to rid you from my bones.

All it took was reading that quotation, the lyrics of a song by The Decemberists, on Twitter and I am desolate again, those words struck a chord and I am desolate again! Almost four months on and it made me realize how damaged I still am, and how deep that damage in fact goes: as the line says, to my very bones, and I have written and written and run and run and cursed and prayed to try and rid myself of her but what do you do if that emotion is so deep it is to your very bones, your core?

I’ve written pages upon pages, trying to rid you from my bones.

I don’t want to feel like this, to be this pitiful fucking creature (excuse my language but I feel that it is appropriate in this case). My Creator and I had words last night…well I bitched and whined and cursed and He/She/It ignored me. Unfortunately the God I know is at the very least an abusive parent whose favourite line seems to be, “this is for your own good”. On my Facebook page I jokingly said, “I am Sparta”. What I was doing was in fact making a comment on my life, and that word Spartan. It is defined like this:

1. Of or relating to Sparta or its people.

2. Also Spartan

a. Rigorously self-disciplined or self-restrained.

b. Simple, frugal, or austere: a Spartan diet; a Spartan lifestyle.

c. Marked by brevity of speech; laconic.

d. Courageous in the face of pain, danger, or adversity

I am Sparta!


Now I am certainly not trying to paint myself as some sort of tragic hero, and I would hardly call myself courageous; I deal as we all have to in life. However my life has, and I really kid you not, been a solitary one. I used to think it was because of my nature, that it was who I am, but more and more I think it is just circumstance, unbelievable circumstance, that or a Creator that has some unfathomable plan for a poor soul who just wants to be loved by someone and have someone to love back, someone to share his life with.  I feel cursed, like I am not worthy of love and that is a terrible, terrible way to feel.

Prior to my LA love I had not been with a woman for over four years, and when I think about that I am horrified. Surely that’s not normal? But the fact is I just could not bring myself to open my heart again. I had given up on relationships after years of disappointment and heartbreak, and because I have a conscience I could not use nor hurt another person just because I have wants and needs. Alone for all the right reasons is what I believed, so I shut that part of my life off and concentrated on my art. I thought if I was really meant to love, if my soulmate was out there, it would happen, fate or some divine plan would ensure that. And…well if you have read my blogs (read North Hollywood) you will know the rest: LA woman! But WTF! I still have no idea what that was all about, apart from some abusive parent’s idea of how to make me grow as a person or merely to re-enforce the idea that I should be alone and am not worthy of love and companionship, hence my evening, last night, wailing at and cursing my Creator.

explorations for performance piece for November exhibition




Look, I have no doubt this surge of emotional pain, turmoil and angst within me has also been brought on by the fact that I have my pending exhibition looming over me. The artwork I am doing will take me way, way out of my comfort zone and that, keeping in mind my present emotional condition, is a terrifying thing. All I want to do is disappear, somewhere where I can’t feel anything anymore. I just feel too much, way too much. But therein lies my quandary, I want love; I am a romantic, I believe in true love and soulmates and fairytales and happy endings…they just don’t believe in me unfortunately.

explorations for performance piece for November exhibition



So what do I do? Crawl into a hole and hide? Drink or exercise myself into oblivion? Get out there and desperately try and find someone, anyone, to fill this gaping, hole of a wound inside me? No, none of those, for I am Sparta, and I am only half-joking when I say that. I keep going, and I try to keep believing. I have a single-minded focus on completing my art degree and returning to the States to make my name as an artist; that is my dream. This is something that I can influence, that I can make happen, I believe. All the rest is up to the tides of life, the fickleness of humans, fate, God…whatever. If I can leave you with anything, dear reader, it is this: if you find yourself in a situation where you are overwhelmed by the sheer crappiness of Life, and what has been handed to you: allow yourself moments of self-pity, angst and anger, you are entitled to that. Do not however wallow in it! Decide what you can and can’t change in your situation and focus on the can. The mere fact that you are doing something will at the very least lift your spirits and give you some hope in what seems like a hopeless situation. Writing or emoting is a good, healthy way to work your way through it as well. As the line goes:

I’ve written pages upon pages, trying to rid you from my bones.

A lot of my posts bear witness to this process. But you are still in pain I hear you say. I would be in pain regardless of what I did, what I am doing is trying to create something positive out of it. That is my point, dear reader, find something you can do that is positive, focus on that’ and do it. The rest will take care of itself whether you do anything about it or not.

explorations for performance piece for November exhibition