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Pandemonium

It used to be pandemonium. Tonight’s drawings are for the gallery owners I admire, for the passing strangers I admire; for the beautiful people who passed me by on the street today; for the beautiful people who passed me by on the street yesterday. For the musicians who I wish would show up unexpected on my doorstep to meet me while I’m covered in paint, covered in make-up, unawares, with little starlets in my bedroom, and a guitar on my shoulder, in an illegal hetro/homo/bi and sexual relationship, amid a night filled with spilled paint and emotion, and narcotic, narcissistic neophyte delusions of self-indulgent release. They are for the moment when someone bigger than myself draws me in to their circle, accepts me into their circus.

When I was a semi-child I used to have a routine. I would wake up and masturbate, then my mother would bring me tea, then I would prepare for school. One day the pursuit of orgasm was too great and I decided to masturbate 3 times, even though I knew it would cross over the tea delivery time. After many failed attempts my mother finally came in with the tea and asked “Are you done?”, and I replied “Done with what?” in a defiant manner, certain she was unable to answer this question. I pursued it relentlessly, and she was never able to say it out loud, and this somehow made me invulnerable to the shame I deserved. I never forgot this sickening episode.

Tonight’s drawings were brought to you in part by Bacardi “Oro Rum” and Gosling’s “Black Rum” and in full by Jameson’s “Irish Whiskey” and the Pet Shop Boys “Pandemonium” and “The Way It Used To Be”. Tonight’s art was brought to you in full by desire, by need, and by relentless, insatiable self-indulgence.

Look back composed

Half out of anger tonight I said, “I don’t care if we lose our US$54,000 deposit, I’d rather sit here and draw.”

Later, I looked back and meant it.

The carnal carnival

Tonight me and Pudding (aka “Baby”) went on HK Artwalk. This is an annual event when the local galleries stay open till midnight and offer food by local restaurants. It is traditionally held on March 7th (Wrong design’s birthday) and is traditionally full of art fags. This year they changed to March 11th and it was full of rich French. It is also the first time I have actually paid for a ticket. Me and Baby committed the cardinal sin – we paced ourselves. Stupid, stupid patrons. Free food and wine from 5pm-midnight should = sensual oblivion.
Whenever I get home from looking at “art” I am full of sperm and inspiration.

Boo-hoo

I hate to sound like an 80’s over-size-print T-shirt, but any company that has US$62 billion to lose in one quarter, in a world where there are millions of people who will never spend one day with enough to eat in their lifetime, can go fuck themselves. I’m a selfish, self-absorbed, and fundamentally careless and reckless individual, but even to me this is indecent in the worse sense of the word.

Jack of all petty distractions

I haven’t drawn in a long time. I’ve been concentrating on my drinking and studying AC/DC on the guitar in the feverish way I like to do things. I’ve kind of missed that moment in front of the mirror though, drinking and looking at myself in the feverish way I like to do things.

Go with the flow

This morning I woke up so poisoned I swore if I could make it through the day I would sleep at least 7 hours and be clean tomorrow. By midnight I was spilling wine and learning the intro to “Back in Black” on guitar.
I’m seriously considering buying a cheap drum set for sale on a local website.

I’ve always wanted a drum set.

Thunderstruck

I had an explosive workout at the gym today while listening to AC/DC. I imagined I was Bon Scott, Brian Johnson and Angus Young all rolled into one. It got me all fired up and I started to realize the importance of drugs in the creation of rock’n’roll.
I feel a little self-conscious enjoying something that used to fuel my 14-year-old temperament, but hey, it’s like that moment when you’re thrusting into your girl savagely. You can suddenly get self-conscious and mutter an apologetic sigh, or you can swell up like an animal and roll with it.

Remembering things past

I’ve spent the past week in Japan, mostly praying and recovering from sobriety. I feel I'm back to myself again.
I like the act of prayer. The process of asking yourself what you really want to ask for, and the empowerment that comes from making deals with forces greater than yourself.

November sucked

But at least it was memorable. I don’t remember pleasant August at all.

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On the bus today I observed what seemed to be a family opposite me. Two of them had little flowers drawn on their sneakers in ball-point. I was so curious about this familial graffiti all day. How charming it was.

Cool, collected desire

Hello

Somebody shoot me

I am 37 … The Rolling Stones were right.

Hail to the chef

Last Tuesday was one of the most exciting days of my life. This was partly due, of course, to that magical moment when I knew Barack Obama had been elected and the weird kind of intimate frenzy that grew within me watching his speech. Less monumental, but more exciting, was my setting the kitchen on fire, which led to an explosion. This was my first uncontrolled explosion and it was scary as a motherfucker. Nobody got hurt, but it took me 2 days to clean and repaint the kitchen. Afterwards I felt fully awake, tingly, like nothing physical existed anymore.

Freedom is …

... being inspired and being surrounded by idiots.

Damned if you don't

I’m going back to Old Lady Manhattan on Friday. If Obama doesn’t win on November 4th I’m taking over.

Boyzone

I was browsing “Gay Attitude” the other day and happened to come across a photo of myself. Well, actually I was Googling myself as I regularly do and found the cowboy photo Baby took of me in New Mexico. It is at the bottom of the page here: http://blog.gayattitude.com/2008/06/10/. I can’t speak French. I like to think some beautiful man out there is having explosive orgasms while fantasizing about me, but it’s probably just a lucky coincidence.

Dedicated follower of fashion

I want to say thank you to whoever initiated the trend this autumn in Hong Kong of girls wearing short shorts and cowboy boots.

One man’s pain

I enjoy watching markets crashing.

The summing up