A bit of my prologue

Well in my last post, I mentioned that I’ll post a bit of a book I was working on. Well, I found something, But it’s now what I was looking for exactly. I doubt anyone reads this anyway, so dark void of the Google machine…. Enjoy.


Prologue



A dark soft candle should be your mindset for the divine, macabre journey that you've embarked upon. Delving into the art of a Master painter or a blood and urine soaked canvass of a patient whose guiding lights are the voices in his head, directing his hand. The Devils plaything? Or the art of a higher divinity needing to express a thought or a moment that is solely their own?
I have no name, but there are some who call me Odium, Fault or Ire. To some also, I am known as Hate or to others insight or inspiration.
I revel in despair and haunt the agony of the desperate and depressed. Filling their mind's with untruth and chaos. Turning them into someone, or something, like myself. It is for this reason that I journey through the Gallery Angelo's. A sort of affirmation of what has happened, what is happening and what may come to pass.
For myself, I view this place as a shrouded house of angst, a veiled home for my own personal sorrow and unhappiness. If I could cry, torrents of anguish would be set loose upon the great unwashed. But I cannot.
Instead, I articulate my own animus and sorrow through writing, music, or art. All painstakingly done through the medium of other creators. I am a muse of mal du siecle. However, the pious imagery that I've inspired through the centuries is my most precious. The ethereal divinities, be they good or bad, Seraphim or Succubus, I adore only these, as they are all I have.
The galleries have been visited by many. Some become enamored with what they find and experience, while others become terrified with some drawn to madness, and death. It is always these instances where I feel utter bliss.

Here, this place, Is like an angry voice that keeps us quiet. It keeps my sweet confessions beneath my tongue. These walls adorned with the victorious divine are like my children, born in Sodom, raised in Gomorra. Grown into men and women raised on the rod with a whip in hand.
The corridors fill me with certain trepidation that I long for and miss when the doors are shut, but upon them being open, I'm afraid that this place will devour me.

Through all of the galleries that I have created, the Gallery of Suicide, the Gallery of Decompose, or the Gallery of Rage, none can compare to this. The Gallery, my Gallery, brings meaning to this sorrow filled void that I've made my home. The savagery saturates into the walls and the floor, enveloping all who venture fourth to view the cadaverous divine. Wonderfully transcendent effigies given through me to those who needed them. Be it good or bad, they were needed.
Amassing such a collection of rapturous portrayals has been daunting but for the joy they bring me and the grief they brought to others, all was worth it.

On writing..

Again, here I am, and yet again, I pose the question of what will I bloggy thingy about today?!?! I really should be more prepared. Give it a little more thought perhaps? Well let me see, what are my options today?

I could write about the joy I get out of working in Photoshop?? OR how much I like funny buttons with witty sayings, like “Does my fat ass make my ass look fat?” OR will I go to hell for having a Jesus car air freshener hanging under my monitor here at work? (Smells like purification.) Hmmmmmm, quite a quandary.

SO I’ll again forgo the pre conceived notions above and write about ….writing. (I had an Austin Powers redundancy moment there…Allow myself to introduce….myself.)

So with writing, like so many others…I’ve hit a block, well actually, allow me to rephrase …a wall, wait, one more time…..the wall hit me, and when I was down, bleeding what was left of whatever creativity I had, it shit on my back with the Awesome power of persuasion and forced me NOT to write. (As you can tell my previous sentence…its working.) However, I have a potential plan to remedy that.

I may be going to Toronto in a week or so for 2-3 weeks to do some Quality Assurance work for my company and while I’m not working, I think I’ll lock myself away in my hotel room and write a book. Now I know what you’re thinking, “Jeremy, you couldn’t write a book in a few small weeks, why don’t you settle for writing out a chapter or two, or maybe a chronology…?”
I figure If I set my standards high, I’m more liable to follow through as I really hate letting myself down. But If I don’t get a whole book written, and maybe only a few chapters or something… well ya know what…at least I’ve gotten some writing done and I’ll have grown in that light.

My Buddy Pat and I are still waiting for our Agent to get our book to the publishers to get picked up, BUT that’s been going on for over a year now so I have no hope for it happening in the future. I think you can see what it will look like here http://www.101industries.ca/frames.html

p.s. I think my next entry may be a excerpt from that book…. Stay tuned.

my second bloggy thingy on the google machine from May 30th

Now with trying to keep up with this blog thingy on the Google machine, I look at it as an opportunity to try to build upon my writing skills, wait, build upon is too strong of a statement, create my writing skills would be more apt.

So what shall I blog upon today? What are my options…? I could try to describe the way the mist hung upon the river in the chill frost this morning while I was having a smoke? OR I may web log about how I LOVE Iron & Wine and Samuel Beam is a lyrical genius that evokes thoughts of small town farming communities and living off of the land with the one woman you love more than your own heart beat. Maybe beards and how they, at first are strange, itchy and foreign, but after a while grow on us?...

Today I will write about my desire and plight to become a tattoo artist.
For the past 15 years I’ve flirted with the idea of one day becoming a world renowned tattoo artist with thoughts of sharing my passion with the world one fleshy canvas at a time. A tattoo artist who does not become jaded or dis-enchanted like so many elitist artist I’ve read so much about… But I’ve yet to begin.

I’ve apprenticed for a few talented artists here and there, read a slew of information on various aspects of the craft, watch hours of video’s on technique and procedures but have yet to find the time or money to begin what I long to do. Just buying the gear is easy but learning about BBP’s (blood borne pathogens) and cross contamination as well as proper sterilization and machine tuning is something one can only learn from a seasoned professional. Time is the biggest investment, and while living 30 min from a city in a small rural community, having a full time job and family it seems like a pipe dream.

I’ll make it work, but I just have to make the time.

My April 29th FIRST bloggy thingy

So….I think im gonna try this new(ish) bloggy thingy, Though, where do I begin, what shall I “blog” about? My lackluster art skills?, me actually having hair for a change? My deep sultry desire to become a tattoo artist (lackluster of course) or the vegetable garden I want to plant this spring?.....The thing I found in my teeth?......
I just don’t know, I’m at a loss.
Fuck it, I’ll write about new music I’ve heard within the past 3 or 4 days….. SO,
White Lies: Amazing. 80’s Brit Pop feel made for today and they're actually from the UK. I really love their sound and hope they pump out the music faster then I can listen to it….
Röyksopp: As per their website…”is an electronic and chillout music duo based in Bergen, Norway.” And all the means really is that their foreign and badass. So yeah. Kinda like Mogwai meets Bonobo? Maybe? Im diggin it.
Let me see…
Bat for Lashes: She is phenomenal. Similar in parts to Tori Amos, but without all of the drama and melancholy. (I all of the sudden want Melon’s and cauliflower. Mmmmmm Melons

Also, not new to me BUT….
Bill Withers is my 70’s soul GOD. I mean….Who can listen to “Aint no sunshine” without saying to themselves…”Yeah, I’m a Caucasian male between the ages of 18 and 35 and I’d fuck him” you know… if your into the sorta thing…and……………um…ahem… HEY, THAT DOG HAS A PUFFY TAIL!!!!!