For Heaven’s sake! You’ve probably heard that one before, maybe even mumbled it to yourself upon reading some of the B S that features prominently on this blog. Well, I was drawing one night, and got into drawing with a pencil…for pencil’s sake. Nothing fancy, just a plain ol’ yellow #2 pencil, with eraser on the end, exploring what one can do with graphite fashioned into a phallic-like object.
Everybody has used a “lead’ pencil. It was probably the first thing you learned to write the alphabet with, and primary drawing instrument used as a child. I knew from a young age that I’d be an artist when I grew up, cause all my teachers always told me, “Hansi, stop daydreaming. Get to work and get the lead out”. To me that always meant it was time to draw.
Kids love to draw. Just give them a pencil and a bunch of paper, and they’ll draw their little asses off. My two grandsons do, and love it. Maybe that’s because grandma (aka The Wife) was an art teacher, and there’s reams of paper and every art supply imaginable laying around the hose. Five year old Logan drew the picture of an ice cream truck, complete with music playing and kids with ice cream cones.
So anyway, all these drawing were done with a # 2 pencil, on cheap paper scavenged from some recycle bin or thrift store. For me, it was kinda like getting down to basics. All my early drawings posted on this blog were in pencil (like the one on top). It was only later that I started to use ink, and later than that even, color, because it photo-shopped better.
Sometimes I just like to stop. Slow down. Become still and sit. And while in this highly relaxed state, focus my attention on my breath. Concentrating on and following the in-breath and the out-breath. Nothing else. Except Nothing Else is pretty hard. That’s because thinking rears its ugly head, and before ya know it, you’re in another world fully locked into fantasies, planing for a future event, or re-living something from the past, totally forgetting about the breath, let alone that there’s an in-breath or an out-breath.
Damn, I hate it when that happens, cause it means I’m not relaxed or mentally still, but in an agitated state absorbed into a story-line that resembles a Bob Dylan song. Thankfully, I eventually realize that I’m not following my breath, but wrapped-up in a bunch of bullshit that isn’t even real, but imaginations that come and go and are rarely remembered. Maybe that’s called awareness. Realizing that I was not present but wrapped up in thought, some of which is interesting, some of which can be frightening. And there I go again, off on another tangent, and not present with my breath.
I guess you can call this whole process meditation. What’s interesting about meditation, is not being off in LaLa-land somewhere, but developing awareness, and being able to clearly see what is going on in your mind. The big “Insight” gained by this practice is that nothing is permanent, but arises as a result of something else (conditioned transitory events) which are in a constant state of flux and not worthy of holding onto. Trippy stuff.
I’m toying with the idea of getting back on a more spiritual path. Not a big God type of thing. Definitely not something where I’m gonna get ‘saved’. I did that once, and it took a long time to get myself unsaved mentally. [One thing I could never figure out about getting saved so ya wouldn't end up spending all eternity burning in Hell, is that after you die, all that's supposedly left is your soul, and how can something that is spirit burn up and feel pain when your body is dead?]
I want something with some degree of structure, and a logical belief system which I don’t just have to take on faith. I guess I want my “path” to be more like the German Autobahn.
I’ve been to good ol’ Deutschland twice and got to experience the Autobahn to it’s fullest. Germany is really cool, especially if you’re German, or of German ancestry. Everything is clean and orderly. The Germans have a rule for everything, and everybody follows them. Maybe that’s their Achilles Heel, but not to worry, they even have rules for excessive rule-following. The only place where there’s no rules is on the Autobahns; there are no speed limits. So when it comes to driving your Mercedes or BMW, you can haul ass and go as fast as you want. Go figure that one out.
So the analogy of an ‘autobahn’ is where I want to go spiritually. You know where you’re going and where you’ll end up (but not really cause if you’ve never been there ya really don’t know what it’s like), but there’s no rules, regulations, or church hierarchy you have to obey along the way. Follow your heart, as fast as you want.
I don’t know about you, but I’m going all-out in combating old age. I try to stand up straight, eat healthy, exercise regularly and keep my mind active. [Maybe a little bit too active at times]. Generally I’m in pretty good shape compared to my peer group, especially those who are dead.
But I’m turnin’ 67 next February, and damn, that’s getting old. Thank god combating old age only entails fighting old guys, and that’s not too difficult…if…they’re not allowed to use prosthetic devices as weapons.
Here’s some more of the same old stuff that I did combat with the other night.
I usually don’t just sit down in front of my computer and grind out a Blog Post, but that’s what I’m doing today. No rough draft, no outline for a convoluted yet cohesive narrative. Just slap a few recent drawings up there, and see what happens.
Maybe my choice of title isn’t the greatest. I don’t know about you, but for me, the first thing that comes to mind concerning things that are let to rip is farts. I don’t let my clothes get ripped, and since I stopped drinking red wine at night, I no loner get ripped. So it’s only farts that are now let rip by me. And, I might as well admit it, not only to they rip, but now in old age, they tend to Un-Zip as a prolonged series of mini-explosions that occur when traversing the living-room wherein sits The Wife. Boy do I catch hell for that. But I can’t help it. It’s just combustion from all the health food she feeds me at dinner. I don’t especially enjoy sounding like a machine-gun, unless I can aim it.
Well, here’s a couple of drawings I let rip the other night. And like flatulence, I don’t just let one or two rip, I usually do a series. So there will be more coming soon.
Too bad you can’t smell stuff in cyber-space. Guess you can’t digitize a gas. I’d sure like to add some odors to my drawings. I would be kinda like experiencing them in 3-D, except ya use different sense organs. Savor these till the next time.
In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been gone for a while. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I’ve just had my fill of Hansi, and feel like it would be in the best interest of everyone concerned if there where a lot less. So I took a little break.
Well it was good for me; sure hope it was good for you.
What really blows my mind is that I’ve been blogging on a regular basis sine November 2010. That’s almost 500 posts, and here we are three years later. I don’t consider myself a “Blogger”, although I do blog. It’s more something I do from time to time, not what I am. Just like I’m not an old man who lets pee pee dribble down his leg, it’s just something I occasionally do.
I’m also not a ‘high-tech’ kinda guy. I don’t tweet, am not on Facebook, and have never ‘Texted’ in my life (mainly because I don’t have a cell phone). I also prefer to listen to recordings in the analogue mode (records on a turntable), rather than digitally. I did however go ape-shit when Napster came out, and have made excellent use of all the peer-to-peer file sharing programs that followed.
What I do like best about blogging, besides it being a platform for me to spew forth nonsense spiced with just the right amount of filth while showing off my crude sexually charged drawings, is being able to visit with other folks (many of whom are my peers, but not necessarily dribblers of pee pee down their legs) who are doing the same thing. Pretty
drippy trippy, don’t cha think?
Okay….So this is not a real self portrait. But close enough. I don’t look like Hot Dog Man, however, part of me is Hot Dog Man, as I do like acting like a dog at times.
That sounds fairly disgusting, not to mention overloaded with a lot of sexual content (which I never intended) and is usually only depicted in old blues songs about men acting out their canine nature: “A man ain’t nuthin’ but a dog on two legs”.
Well, sometimes I feel a little ‘dogged’, and just feel like laying around all day doing nothing. The problem is, something always comes up, and interrupts my self indulgent doing of nothing, requiring me to stop doing nothing and to do something. And that something usually falls into the “I don’t wanna deal with this shit” category. Which makes it worse, cause I really don’t want to do it.
I did these two drawings whilst laying around doing nothing last night. Much to do about nothing?