Monthly Archives: March 2023

The Eighties

Tuck shops in schools

Hop scotch on the playground and in the streets

Eating space dust

Eating out of polystyrene boxes

Indoors for Saturday night TV

Games in the street with the neighbourhood kids

Helping the elderly across the street

Top of the pops is the bee’s knees!

Infatuations with care bears, my little pony and Teddy Ruxpin

Entertainment in the best decade ever! 

Sweets sold by the penny in every high street – that was the eighties! 

Written 1:31pm 16th March 2023

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Abstract art and the subconscious

For the first time in months I have done art.

Yesterday, late afternoon to early evening I spent time doing art and I did it in a rebellious kind of way.

So tired of never having access to my art table I did a very childish thing and sat crossed-leg on my bed and risked ink stains on the bed covers to do it.

I did get a green splodge on my duvet, which looks black against the red polka dots that were originally on it.

But it wasn’t as messy as I thought it would be.  Paul moaned, of course he did – ink splodge on the bed covers, but he didn’t say as much as he usually does because he knows in a way, it was his fault this happened.  My art table has been taken over by the whole household, except me.

I made abstract conceptual art of a beauty boutique with inks, coloured pencils, biro and sharpies. 

I also made a lady and cut her out as part of a big collage I intend to do as part of a free course I signed up a week ago to – thing is, I haven’t done the project yet, because I couldn’t find a wooden palette big enough to continue.  I have everything else though – but the palette is meant to be the canvas!

I also learned today when experimenting with different music on Alexa that I’ve been a big fan of The Kinks my whole life and never knew.  Every song of theirs I was like… ooh this is my most favourite song of all time, I was like that with around ten of their songs I listened to.  But I’ve told you all before, I have the memory of a sieve.

I probably knew once, that I liked them.

As stupid as it sounds I thought quite a lot of their songs were from The Beatles, The Beach Boys or The Monkees to be honest.

So yeah, I learned I like The Kinks, typical really upon reflection.

A new short story series has entered my mind today, which I was also practising art for.  I wanted to make the art of a Goth girl, as the main character is Goth – I want to write three short stories before I do my plan.  The plan is, to post them here on my blog as a weekly thing. 

I probably won’t, but who knows.

It’s a black comedy comic strip.

Still intend to write the other projects, but my heart isn’t in something since I found out someone wanted to steal it, I am tired of idea thieves.  It really is disheartening.

So, that’s what I am up to lately.

To me, that’s huge progress.

I’ve been in a huge depression slump since September; this is my first creative foray since then.  Well on a major scale that lasted longer than thirty minutes in any case and wasn’t poetry either!

I’ve been eager to get heavily into art actually; particularly conceptual abstract in mixed media format and collages.

I’ve been trying to learn off and on for about a year now, what abstract art actually means – to try and develop respect for it, because to be honest with you, up until recently I had a very naïve and uneducated idea about abstract.

You know… anyone and their dog can do it.  Ouch.

Actually there is a lot of thought and feeling that goes into abstract work, a lot more than you realise.

You realise that in the first few minutes of abstract the artist genuinely doesn’t know what they are doing, they are just adding colour and shapes to the canvas to fill it up – then they layer it and cover up a lot of what they’ve done in order to make something special to them.

You see the thing is, abstract really is suggestive.  The artist sees something that you and I won’t, then give it a name based on what they see.

I remember an art class I did once in the last school I’ve ever been to – where I was at the frustrated sweaty end of a ranting art teacher, because he felt I was disrespecting the craft because I couldn’t grasp what abstract or even surrealism was at the time.  He wanted an abstract painting or sculpture of a musical instrument and I couldn’t do it for the life of me.

He forced me to read loads of books for that whole lesson and I realised what I was doing wrong.  I was attempting realism, because I thought that’s what he wanted from me.

I thought abstract at the time meant bold unusual colours with blocky patterns in it. 

When I finally grasped what he wanted, he was so happy he was bouncing off the walls for weeks and from being the most hated pupil he ever had, I became his biggest success in his words!

I realised what he wanted me to do was to create a musical instrument of my choice, but make sure it doesn’t look normal – that it looks contorted, sort of trapped between realities and maybe make it in a way in which if you squint and put your head in a certain position it will actually look like the guitar you meant for it to be.  Weird, but then again – it’s all thinking outside of the box.  We can all look at a picture, but do we really see it?

How deeply do we look at it, do we see details?  Do we try to see beyond splodges and shapes or do we take it for granted?

That’s the thing with abstract, a lot of people do take it for granted and pooh, pooh it.

The best way I’ve found in understanding abstract art, is to get used to looking at shapes in many forms.  Silhouettes are a good start.  Splodges on paper, but don’t just look at the splodges – look at them as silhouettes, what could they be the silhouettes of?

If you squint your eyes or tilt your head slightly or a lot does the silhouette look different?

That’s the understanding behind abstract art I’ve found.

Sometimes, yes, it’s just random stuff people throw on a canvas, but a large amount of abstract artists really do over think how they make things appear.

Another way in learning about abstract art that helped me was the idea of junk journaling and collage.  You take scrapbooking papers and you cut them into shapes and you paste them onto a paper, you have a square and a triangle, put them together and it is a house, but they are random colour and patterns the shapes – all of this helped me understand better.

So abstract is both the worlds of random paint throwing and thinking deeply about what you’re doing – this is something I’ve learned from almost every abstract artist.

They really do start off, just piling paint onto a canvas for ages until they squint in a certain way or tilt their head or just simply see beyond what they are doing – this is why they pause and focus on the picture regularly – they are trying to see what their subconscious has just made and it does give people a huge insight to the state of the artists mind.

It’s all subconscious, it’s not meant to be 3D realism. 

Today, I was concentrating on my abstract picture, without a hope in Hell knowing what I was doing, I just went back to being five years old and threw different shapes and colours and textures onto my canvas until I saw what looked to me to be a mess of clothes, boots and shoes all over a carnival style boutique, I outlined some things and I did some random scratches and texts and to me it works.

I didn’t intend to make it some flamboyant carnival style clothing boutique, I just wanted to paint and play.

But it is funny how my subconscious did that, because I haven’t had a shopping trip for six years, not where I can impulse buy more than £10 and in the past few days I’ve really missed my old haunts in London and the ability to go out for a shopping spree of £300 without battering an eye lid like I used to!

So by throwing myself into abstract art, I’ve found I am learning a lot about myself and my deep desires.

I really do miss London and I did notice along the flanks of the painting, it looked like some foggy scenes of a London high-street!

I missed doing art and todays lifted my spirits slightly.

Thanks for reading!

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Filed under About my work, Abstract Thoughts, Arts & Crafts

Why did you give up?

Why did you give up?

One inch from the diamond

In the caves of darkness and joyless work

Through all the soot and tears you’ve been through

Why did you give up?

Just one inch away…

Just one more hit away…

Did you think that things won’t go your way?

Did you think your instinct was only play?

Did you think that it was fruitless before you sowed the seed?

So you gave up and didn’t proceed

To get the diamond freed

So your life abundant be

So you can stand proud because you succeed

In never giving up life’s game

So life will always be the same

Because you gave up

That’s insane…

Written 2:02am 20th March 2023

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Vanity

Vitriolic to the quiet

Awful to the modest

Never ceasing criticisms

Indefinitely damned

Totally self-obsessed

You live your life in vanity

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Hell is not for mortals

Cover me in poison

Drown me with your fears

Suffocate me with your dominance

Stop me with your tears

Then you wonder why I left after all of these years

Because you sought to keep me my dear

You thought if you drowned me in toxins

I wouldn’t have the strength

To up and go and leave you

But we don’t share the same wavelength

I am not broken by abuse

Abuse it makes me strong

I am not like you who are weakened by the chains that are your bonds

I instead get stronger

Each and every day

I keep faith right beside me

I grow stronger because I pray

Though you never heard a word I’ve said

I keep it close to heart

And from your bonds I am released

And now I have to depart

You can’t keep me with your darkness

You can’t control me in every way

Because I have silent faith

Because I silently prayed

Now I will go away

And wish you well in life

But I can’t stay here with you

Because you bring me strife

God has released me from the bonds you bound me with

He is the reason that I left

Because he is not happy at the life you stole

Mine, it is theft

Thou shalt not steal be the law

In the commandments ten

Someday he will call you to account

I don’t know how, why or when

But I leave you now

To think on this

And think on it you must

Because you have allowed your ego to be overcome with lust

Goodbye my dear I am going

Goodbye my dear, please learn

For I do love you dearly

And know you do not deserve to burn

Because everyone makes mistakes

It is true and it is forgiven

But never let power rule your heart

It is evilly driven

Goodbye my love, I wish you well

There is no place for you in Hell

Because Hell is not for mortals

Did you know?

It’s for the adversary to go

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Creative locket

Come along now, come and rush at me!

I’ve a lot of things to steal

Great ideas a plenty, to pay for your gold and meals

I strive to make a difference

To be happy and be free

So come on everybody, try to steal it away from me!

I know you want to

I know you dare

I know that you don’t really care!

So come and get them

All these things

The things I’ve made

To be doused in bling

Stolen concepts to fill your pocket

Come and take my creative locket

And sell your soul to the devil for more

Steal from me in all galore!

The Devil laughs at what you do to me

Sharpening his trident in evil glee

Knowing that you are cursed by he

For stealing these gifts that came to me!

So shine your little heart out there

With things you’ve stolen but beware

That life isn’t always as glorious as this

Soon your wine will taste like piss

And your meal filled with worms and sod

Because you are a thief and will suffer the rod!

Because these gifts came to me from God!

Written 5:14pm 15th March 2023

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Creative journal stored

I am creating a writer’s journal that is private and sending it to my cloud.  It is all about my thought processes throughout all my creative ventures and things that occur because of it.

I do want to be a writer and get published and I know that doesn’t seem like a reality right now in my life, due to the fact that since September I have probably written towards my novels no more than perhaps six times due to extreme depression.

But the dream is still there, to be a writer that is published.

I am trying to focus my thoughts and ignore the crap going on in my life so I can get on with it, because not writing my stories is like someone putting a chisel to my temples… its torture basically.

I thought, all the best creatives in the world keep a diary don’t they?  Well, why don’t I?  But this one with the intention of keeping it for future historians is that conceited of me?  Is that really a bad thing?

I like to think that it’s appreciated rather than judged as a form of egotism.

There are things in the diary that won’t be published until I am dead, because it will reveal problems I have undergone to maintain my individuality and it will talk about people who have literally stolen ideas from me because I talked too much in my earlier years as a writer because of the advice of “how to write” books.

It won’t just focus on my writing though, it will focus on my whole being as a creative; stories, poems, art, music, everything that inspired creation in me and had a part in the works I’ve done.  I will talk about all my projects, even those that might never get published.  Those that might never get published will always be stored away somewhere, so that in the future, perhaps someone will publish them because they want them, because they want more of me.

Again, not to be conceited, but I have to think about how much people want these things and they will and they do this thing with other posthumous authors and creatives, so why should I be any different?  It’s just forward thinking that’s all.  We often get pent up with all the process of just being ourselves we forget the larger picture, we presume we are not good enough to get to that stage where we become historical, but who are we to judge in the end?

Nobody thinks highly of themselves enough to assist historians do they?  Some do, but not many and it is a frustrating thing for historians.  I have a love for history and I have a love for certain authors of which I wanted to know more on a deeper level but they felt that they were being conceited if they spoke about themselves a lot – humble creatures really.  I am too, but I understand people and the things they yearn as I am a person too.

So that is what I am doing.  I am, from today, creating a creative diary about my writing, its processes, where I got inspiration from, my rivals, my thieves, everything about my creations is going to be documented.  If nothing else it will make me write more than I do, because it could be used as a warm up to writing instead of playing online games or ranting in my 750words.com

I will enjoy it.

Thanks for reading…

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Creative individuals empathise

The worst thing I have ever done was listen to people who told me I should share my ideas or snippets online regarding my story work.

There are just so many thieves and if you are not as fast as them they just steal from you constantly and that is very disheartening.  I suffer from depression as it is without people literally trying to tear pieces out of my soul as well!

Because to me my creative self is my soul, when you steal from me you are tearing my soul apart like some vicious starved demon!

If you don’t empathise with what I am saying here, then you are not a true creator, you are just a creative thief.  If you empathise with what I am saying, then you are a true creator and know exactly what it means to create new content and how much it means to you to be a creative INDIVIDUAL.

I can’t understand people who actively steal from others, they can’t feel fulfilled in themselves – they might have success, they might have money, but they don’t have a soul, do they?

They’ve sold their soul and their individuality if they can do such a thing.

I pity them.

Honestly I do, I pity that they are so ashamed of themselves they don’t want to share their true selves with the world, like I do and like true creatives do.

It’s really sad actually.

This is why, from this point onwards, I will mention my projects by their code names – but I am no longer dropping hints about them at all, other than their genre.  I won’t even talk about the amalgam of influence I got for the story either, as that gives away too much! 

It’s sad to have to do this too, but I can’t have people taking something precious like this away from me all the time…

Thanks for reading!

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Have I lost mine?

When fate tries to protect you

Rat poison goes missing

When the universe tries to buck you up

The glass you dropped doesn’t break and give you razors

When people see you are down

They give you false promises just to cheer you up for the moment

When the sky is cloudy

There is the tease of the sun in a small hole in the sky

When you try to be alone to cry

Someone finds you and needs a hug

When you smell a rat

There is a slight smell of candied apples behind it

Can you trust your senses at all?

Have I lost mine?

Written 8:57pm 28th February 2023

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You treat people like fools

You write love letters to yourself

How sad

Fighting for attention against the odds

Willing to eat worm and sod

For a better life than this

Willing to even drink the piss

Without a thought or care or woe

Of where you make others go

Because to you life is different shades of gold

You think you can make something new of old

And you don’t think about the soul you’ll lose

Or the people you make swim the blues

You just care about your pocket

Even if you have to stick your finger into an electric socket

You don’t care of the pain you cause

So long as there is bling on your paws

And you can win your awards

You don’t care about the discord

Because you are draped in gold and jewels

You don’t care about stupid rules

Because you treat people like fools

And you know you can get away with this

Even if the wine tastes like piss

And you can sit and smile in glee

For what things you have stolen from me

Written 5:52pm 15th March 2023

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