Last night I wrote about purging my books and tonight I suppose it's a good time to write about my paintings, things I've written through the years, and other stuff.
The thing is, while I've left a lot of stuff behind what I haven't left behind is all the creative work I've done in the past. My paintings, I've taken pictures of, my writing has traveled through six computers to my present one and all that stuff has just sat there sort of saying 'do something with me'.
As a result, I tried to put together compilations and other stuff, but the truth is, I was just holding on to some kind of virtual refrigerator that all my writing and art was stuck to. I had essays from college in the 90's and 2000's, copies of a column called 'Rambling Man' that I used to write for The , a newspaper in Bellingham, plenty of things from the Every Other Weekly, the Hamster, Conchsense, Cascadia, Horizon, Ka Leo o Hawaii and a bunch of other crap that I jotted down, started and never finished, or started and got distracted from.
Some of these things are good but for the most part it was all stuff that a writer accumulates over time that probably should have been left behind with all those papers from high school, notepads, and other 'hard copies' but because it was digital never actually got trashed.
It's hard to throw that shit away and like a packrat, it starts to take on importance. Well, i came up with a solution. I just started posting it to places like this blog, Vago's Erratica, my facebook page, my google plus account Garden Vagobond and my mlkshk stream. Over the past two weeks I've posted all kinds of stuff and in the process allowed myself to toss it away since it's preserved somewhere else. I've also posted pictures my paintings, and now I'm writing about the processes that led to that.
The truth is, I'm a big fan of my own art. I like it, but I don't actually know if it's any good or not. I just enjoy my own work. I've sold a few paintings but mostly my means of getting rid of artwork has been to set them on the curb and then hide somewhere and watch people come and take them. They always ended up getting taken by someone, so I feel like I'm not the only one who enjoyed them. But who knows, maybe they were just taking them for the materials.
And to wrap up with something from my personal slag heap, here's a story that I may write some day, but haven't gotten any further than this:
Joseph's Story: The Father of the Son of God
Sure, you know the story of my son. Everyone does, I'm not even going to go into that shit. People think it's just the Christians, but it's not. Everyone knows my boy. Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus. He's the most important man in the world.
Me? I'm just his old man. All people know about me is that I didn't have any money on the day my boy was born. They know his mom, hell, people all over the world know her too. They call her “The Virgin” - now here's the question that may have never occurred to you. How do you think I feel about all of this?
Seriously. It's cool. I'm happy for the success of my family, but I can't help sometimes feeling like I should get a little more credit.