Lack there of...

Attempting to type this as my cat is draped over my arm purring, as cute as this is, it also means my circulation starts to get cut off when I want to actively use my arm. The cat wins, she's too cute to move, and I'm her comfort. Every so often I wish I had something like that. More recently I crave conversation more than I do affection. Conversation beyond the mundane day to day drama of work, relationships and bills.

As fun and engaging those things are to talk about, I miss taking about art. I can of course do it here, from my head, but the best engagement comes with the back and forth, agreeing and disagreeing, analyzing, proposing fresh thoughts and ideas, something that only happens between two or more individuals. I went to a Comix meet recently that also featured a zine swap. Part of me wishes I engaged in more conversation about people's zines, I brought an issue of "Real Fun" by my friend Professor Ouch. Someone snatched it off the table and hid it away before we could have any conversation about it. I'm glad they seen the value in it, later on I'm sure they will find something offensive about it as people seem to do these days, I just was disappointed I didn't get to talk about the significance of it, just as anything else.

The image I posed it from one of Suehiro Maruo's artbooks, his work is wonderful. A comic artist and illustrator that can produce beautiful and considerably vile artwork. The artwork has a conversation beyond "shock value". People are kinda in that surface level thinking lately, so either something is shocking or something is offensive, can't think about what they are looking at. In previous comix meetings, whether people liked me or not, I always brough a book from my collection for them to flip through and discuss. I never cared if the book was worth $5 or $500, books are meant to be handled, read, and discussed.

I miss all that.

I miss conversations. I miss my friends whom are dead and dying. The ones healthy and living seem to be on some weird self-destructive paths or stuck in a sorrowful existential dread. The ones that are always in demand, people want their art, affections and attention, and it never seems to be enough for em. Then I sit here, everybody's cheerleader, offending people with the audacity to fucking care.

I think I'll really concentrate on my projects, and if people want to team up with me, so be it. I don't have anything solo because I am always trying to help. My theory being that I can do whatever I want any time...and when I do that, I'm not valuing my own time. Time being the most important of currency and I seem to be giving it away. I gotta tread carefully.