mind expanding nonsense

Archive for May, 2012

Going to the Doctor

I’ve been going the the doctor lately.  Not because I’m sick or anything like that.  I’ve been going to an orthopedist to get shots of hyaluronic acid  in my left knee. [ Good thing it’s not the only knee I have left].  It’s a treatment for arthritis, and is administered in a series of three, once weekly injections.  I wonder if stepping into the medical system can have an impact on ones artwork?

I’ll let you be the judge as to whether life events have long term effects on one’s psyche.  All I know is, going to the doctor is a pain in the ass (literally), and I don’t like it.

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Attachment

Holding onto things that bother you, or even worse, really piss you off, is a form of attachment.  And when one clings onto something and forms an attachment with it, the possibility for suffering arises.  For one is never happy or content,  That’s because with attachment, comes the desire for more and the fear of loss of what you have.  “I want that thing badly; can’t live without it.  Oh my god, what would I do without it?”

Besides only gaining suffering, one also looses something with attachment.  And that is your mind, or rather your peace of mind.  Contentment and well being flee when a bad case of attachment hits.  When I got totally pissed at someone recently, I couldn’t let anger go.  I was wronged.  I was the victim, and not the bad guy as accused.  But instead of feeling any the better for it, I felt bad; both physically and emotionally.  I was up-tight, frustrated, everything turned to shit with endless re-runs of how I was wronged running through my mind.  There was little room for anything else.  Damn, instead of grasping on to all this anger, I should have been fleeing from it.  Running for my life.  Cutting it loose.

Hansi

I know…How egoistical and overflowingly (like when the sewer backs up on ya) filled with one’s self than to title a Post  with your own name.  Maybe, but this isn’t really about that, although I personally feel the name Hansi has a nice ring to it, and a real clang, if said with a German accent.  That’s the way I heard it when growing up, especially when my mother was jumping in my shit for some misdeed or another.  Ah the joys of being a Little Hansi.  But hey!  I’m still a Little Hansi, but a lot more since I retired, and am no longer wasting my life fighting crime in the fucking probation department.

Well, profanity and  introspection aside.  This is more about drawing than any weird shit passing through my brain.  See, subject matter really doesn’t matter so much with me and in my drawing.  It’s more about line, form, and now color.  And subject matter (the crap I actually draw) is just the vehicle to explore these things.  It’s all about process for me.

Well here’s the stuff I processed a few nights ago.  Hope it doesn’t cause ya indigestion.

Inside Your Head

Being inside your head means being totally wrapped-up in an inner dialogue wherein you’re an active participant (really the only participant but you don’t know that because the consuming story is far too interesting), or at least that’s what it means to me.

When I’m inside my head all the time, the sad thing is I’m not outside my head where the world is going on.  I’m in my own little world.  It’s like checking out for a while: “No thank you world, I’ve had enough for a while; I’m checking out.”  Sometimes checking out is great, kinda like when ya leave  a shitty motel, after a night where it was noisy, unclean, and ya couldn’t sleep.  Boy am I ever glad when I check-out of one of those.  They suck.

Sometimes its beneficial  to check out from time to time and get inside your head.  The question is: How much is enough?  Guess that depends on how shitty your mental motel is. [ Mine has a spa and great room service with excellent refreshments].   It also depends on how deeply you go inside your head; you could get lost in there and never come out.  That’s way too deep for me, not to mention scary.  I prefer to leave the keys at the front desk way before then.  What’s sweet though, is when inside your head, you can tap into some creative juices, and that can be just plain refreshing.

And speaking of refreshments, I was inside my head when I had this great fantasy about the little boy on the cover of Time magazine, standing on a chair nursing from his mothers breast right after a workout at the gym.

I sure wished I was that little boy.  Taking a drink,  nonchalantly doing what comes natural without a care in the world.  Maybe a touch salty if Mom hadn’t showered after her workout, but  that’s  kinda  like having  a Margarita with salt on the rim of your glass, a nice contrast to the sweet flavors inside, but instead of being ice cold, it’d be body temperature.   How refreshing.

How’s that for being inside ones head?  Much more satisfying to me than watching Fox News or something like that.  I probably ought to get a copy of that Time issue to see what the real story is all about.  Somehow I don’t think it has anything to do with old retired guys.  Maybe it’s a right wing conspiracy to get little kids to wear camouflage pants early in life so they’ll be ready to fight our next war to protect corporate interests overseas.  Nothing like a bellyful of breast milk  to make ya wanna go off and bring democracy to the world.  But then again, I was inside my head, not inside Time magazine.  And you’ve been inside my head far longer than what is normally recommended as being safe.

Have a nice day.

Drunk Driving

Whatever you do, the one thing you don’t ever wanna do is get stopped for drunk driving.  Because if you’re caught driving under the influence of alcohol, or while intoxicated, or just generally messed-up on booze, well you’re screwed.  So unless you’re in the market for a good screwing, ya never ever wanna get “picked up” on a “deuce”, DUI, DWI, or what ever ya call it where you live.

And here’s why.  You may think old Hansi is just some retired guy who sits around the house  all day loaded and drawing weird shit to post on his stupid blog.  Well that’s true 99% of the time.  But a couple times a week, I go back to the House of Pain and work for my former probation department as a extra-help Probation Officer.  There, I assist two full time P.O.s who supervise two massive 2000 person first time DUI caseloads.

People convicted of driving Under the Influence are put on formal probation in my California County, and that means a Probation Officer is checking on you to see if you’re paying your $3000 in fines and fees; doing your work program (which you gotta pay for); and  attending your three to nine month drinking driver program (alcohol school, which ya once again gotta pay for too).

And if ya don’t, and one of us finds out ( here’s where the fornicating begins), then I’m writing a Violation of Probation declaration (no wonderful illustrations on them puppies), and sending you a nasty little letter telling you when your ass better be in court to avoid having a Bench Warrant  issued for your arrest.  Pretty cool.  Now I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t stand having someone like me, jumping in my shit and creating a world of hurt for my ass  just because I didn’t do something I was told to do.  No Sir.  Fuck that shit!

Pretty bizarre huh?  And one might even wonder, “Why the hell are you doing what ya did for thirty years now in retirement?”  Well, it’s simple.  See,I like having money (vaporizers and good medicine don’t come cheap), and fucking with people and being an asshole are the only marketable skills I have; ain’t no money in blogging.

So, next time you’re out n the town getting wasted, think about old Hansi.  Call a cab, it’s much cheaper than three years of probation.  Like they say in my neck of the woods: “Come to Ventura on vacation, leave  on probation”.

Cartoons

I love cartoons, the hand drawn type, and have a lot of awe and respect for those who can do cartoons well.  I’m even following a lot of people who are posting their cartoons.   You know who you are, and I can dig it!

I don’t consider myself a cartoonist as such, although most of my work is very “Cartoonie” in nature.  Maybe because  Mad magazine had a big impact on me as a youth in the late 50’s.  Mad illustrators:  Wallace Wood, Bill Elder, Jack Davis and more where my artistic idols, and blew my young mind with their illustrations.

I also like ‘comic-book’ art.  The highly stylized action comics and illustrated novel types.  Wish I could draw that way, but it’s not me.

The other art-form that blew me away, was the psychedelic art of the 60’s, such as a lot of the work on concert posters.  Trippy stuff.  An art nouveau redux if you will (also way cool art-wise, as are Pre-Raphaelites).  So why the Afro-centric feel to the last two.  Maybe it’s the Treyvon Martin shooting, I d0n’t know.  Pretty psychedelic don’t cha think 🙂

Trash

In order to be creative and keep your stuff fresh.  You gotta take chances.  For if you don’t take chances (with ones work, whatever medium it may be in), you’ll never have any break-through m0ments.   I know that at my age, I should be totally risk-averse; don’t know how many more chances I got left in this life.  Gotta play it safe.  But maybe I still have a shit-load of chances left, and could risk having a wealth of unused chances laying around, which will only be squandered by my heirs.

Oh well, you can see I’ve been reading Yahoo Finance articles way too much.  Kinda makes one paranoid with out the joy of having gotten high first.

So…if ya wanna be creative, you got to take chances, and with chance taking, there’s the  risk of failure.  I hate it when that happens.  I’d prefer to just throw what I was working on in the trash.  Cause that’s were it belongs.  But, if one looks at their failures straight on, there’s a multitude of lessons to be learned, besides the “I’ll never do that again”.  [Famous last words for me.  What I really mean when I say that  is: “I’ll give it just one more try, but I gotta recover first”.]

Finally, and getting to the point.  You may not believe this, but not everything old Hansi cranks out is  a masterpiece in crayon.  Some of them are real bombs; turds that just need to be flushed down the drain.  I’ve posted a couple of these losers before I forever delete them.  I tried some alchemy here, trying to turn shit into Solid Gold.

The night I did most of these, my artist Mojo just wasn’t working.  I tried to work into the first one.  It turned into four small sketches on one piece of paper. Had a vision about the second one featuring my name, but didn’t pull it off to my satisfaction.  [I’ll never try that again.]  The third one is just bad. Naked women and an ice cream sandwich just don’t go together (maybe naked women first, Then ice cream sandwitches).  But, staying at it, the one below turner out Okay.  My medication probably just finally kicked in.

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