An Introduction

That picture to the left is me.  It doesn't look a damn thing like me but, I'm an American living in Japan, I'm invisible.  It doesn't matter what I look like, I look like a foreigner and we all look the same, even I have come to believe that.  It's a truly liberating feeling.

I remember when I lived in NYC, I actually cared what people thought of my T-Shirt, my hair, or taste in music.  I sought the approval of people I didn't know and they were seeking the approval of people they didn't know.  Perhaps in a weird way the responsibility of approval fell to me, but i had no way of knowing that at the time, and I was in no condition for that kind of work, I had no stomach for it.  I was drunken, drugged and sleeping on a couch.  Spending my time thinking up clever band names instead of learning how to play the guitar.  Thinking of art projects that I would like to see and then waiting for someone else to do it.  But of course putting yourself out there exposes you to people like you.  The prospect is terrifying.

Yes, my twenties were a waste of time, or at least a lot of wasted time.  Some good images came from it though.  They trickle down from the back of the brain and sometimes drip out of the mouth, or fingertips and are exposed to the light.  Things like, peeling off a layer of brain cells like an onion and flinging it across the room.  Throwing a roast beef dinner out the window.  Attacking a chair with a knife.  A pillow stained with headaches.  Rinsing your eyeballs off with cold water in a dirty sink.  Stomping on a mouse in a paper bag.  A trash can filled with human hair and broken glass.  Garbage flowing though your veins.  A gut full of gummy worms.  A wispy skeleton being blown around the streets, down the alleyways, through the park, getting caught in a tree.  Choking on candy, and other delightful deaths.