CREATIVE SUICIDE

As i sit on my window sill, window open and staring up at the object which i actually believe to be the only real thing worthy of worship, our creator and giver of life, ''EL SOL""

My mind is taking a stroll down memory lane and as i reminisce about all and sundry, i began to focus on the Women that have shared my life. (Can actually hear ''To all the girls i loved before'' by Willy Nelson being played in my head), there seems to be a common theme with at least 3 of them, and that is, Apart from being beautiful, which is a must, ( so sue me, i love beautiful things to look at,)

they all share the love of art, and the creativity and angst that seems to follow pretty closely behind, which can be a double edged sword , as anybody who has shared intimate times and space with an ''ARTY TYPE'' will concur.

GREETINGS, T'IS THE 10TH OF MARCH 2010.....

My present girlfriend called me whilst i was sprinting down memory lane, from a London gallery and described the work she was studying, which entailed, a women, a chicken with his head almost severed, and blood running from the neck of Colonel Sanders's favorite creature, all over the naked body of the artist, who by the way had committed suicide recently, which was the only heartening or positive thing i could take from the phone call... This got me thinking, Why do these arty types feel the need to express themselves in such ways, before ultimately, taking their sad existence of a life, and leaving a fucked up legacy behind them, and their parents to grieve until they themselves check out!!!...Selfish fucking parasites spring to mind, but never mind my thoughts, on with the blog...

This artist, who's name escapes me just joins a long list of emotional fuck ups, who could not tolerate life, and decided that calling time on a mis- understood existence was clearly the better option, which is fine, more decent oxygen for sane people to breathe, but if they are to rub themselves out, why can they not use that creative genius they possess to do it with style and panache... Michael Hutchins,( inxs front man) David Carradine (kill Bill star).Stephen Gately( boy's own gay crooner).. My next door neighbor, (who loved to paint) and a plethora of others within the entertainment industry who have all left this mortal coil after getting the Weights, angles, and the all important drop zone wrong whilst Beating their man swords furiously, whilst at the same time watching A dog with football socks on,(as not to scratch the participating women/man i believe) confusingly plunder the back door of the man/woman, on a plasma tv in front of them.. .. This is boring guys, and if you are reading this, and are busy checking lengths of rope, checking the delivery date from e bay Holland on your special dvd, and weighing yourselves, stop it already, its tedious, and boring, and we are fed up with finding you hanging in wardrobes, or on beams, with one hand around your Johnson, and the other tied behind your back, with your tongue hanging out... Wanna make a difference and shock the world, then start thinking Van Gogh. wanna be's..

This brings me smartly on to Art itself, and the artists who produce it...They all seem to suffer from the ''Look at me, for fuck sake, understand me, or i'l kill myself brigade!""Well, go ahead, like i said, dont let me hold you up in your quest to reunite yourself with a whole host of movie stars, entertainers, artists,and mis understood genii waiting at the purley gates, or the gates of Hades, who knows, but one things for sure, it will be one ego driven fucked up party thats for sure, with everybody talking, but nobody listening and more cocaine, which seems to be the drug of choice for these lost souls, ( i blame Freud personally, but who cares, right!!) than has been sniffed off Elton Johns husbands arse crack... Which is a fuck load, believe me...

So i may be coming across as a little harsh, and not understanding these delicate little flowers, thats because i don't, and nor do i care to.. Tell me, what is artistic about eating large amounts of gas producing foods, giving yourself a home made colonic with different colored paints, inserting a tube where the sun will never shine, then expelling the contents via forceful propulsion of wind from the anus on to a canvass ?????... Please, someone educate me on why i find this fucking odd??.. and if that particular artist is considering popping his cloggs also, I'll give you a hand, fucking moron!!!!!

Now, before i leave you, will leave you with an ingenious idea on how to immortalize yourself into the annals of history. Start by consuming vast amounts of Chocolate, washed down with your favorite pain killers with a vat of cider.. Attach yourself to a home made device which is based on a centrifugal force type mechanism.. Have a remote control in your mouth which sets the machine in motion, lets say for 5 mins, which should be more than enough time to get the job done, then spit it out once it starts, as it gets faster and faster and you begin to feel nauseous,, the need to throw up will overcome you, but here's the genius part, You can't, you will literally choke to death on your own vomit as the force stops you from expelling matter from your mouth, but as the machine slows down, you will be leaking chocolate and cider all over yourself, which will create in itself a marvelous piece of Art, which will have Damien Hurst wanking into a bath full of formaldehyde, and who knows, he may even buy the piece, stick it in a glass case and and display it for the world to admire and wonder at... He could call it ""DEATH BY CHOCOLATE".. now, thats a way to go!!.. You see, and people tell me i am not creative.

OK Before i leave you, and this time i am going, lets get a little more serious with this whole suicide thing, and why a certain type seem to excel at it. I will use Alexander McQueen as my case study as his death was a relatively short time ago.When one thinks of Alex, which is what i'll call him as not to waste time, we think of wonderful dresses, Kate Moss, like a gazelle gliding down the cat walk in one of his fabulous creations, full of joie de vivre, champagne and adulation being consumed in equal measure, we think of Bling and deeply entrenched success, but when the curtain came down, and we begin to dig around, once again we find that someone we thought had it all, actually tip toed around the edges of depressive darkness and some times fell head first into the abyss. This type of behavior always shocks me to be honest, but coming from a truly loving family the only thing dark i enjoy is chocolate, and laughter consumes my time, with practical jokes being the most sinister thing that can be leveled at me, so i consider myself lucky.

Lucky that happiness is an inside job, and not something which can be bought or acquired from someone else, which is what, funnily enough most of these self help books and manuals have been saying for decades , and i am now believing it more and more..Some will blame evolution and state we are over programmed for self defense, over responsive to any perceived threat in these comparatively safe and privileged times, and that the unlucky depressives spend the majority of their time wallowing around in the reptilian part of the bran, feeling isolated and fearful of everything and anything, however great their circumstances appear to be... As an antidote, we seek out love and relationships to bridge the gap, to find peace in others, or we need others to complete us, which is folly indeed, as the only person who completes you, is you!!..

Alex gave up his right to breathe soon after his own mother died, not by suicide i might add, but of natural causes which is refreshing, But perhaps he found that the show need not go on any further, especially when the audience he craved more than anything else had left him nine days previous..Food for thought i guess....

Anyway, some of the richest guys i know are the most unhappy, and the elitist private school dwellers are in my opinion proper messed up, not all of course, but a great deal of them are full of dark and depressive thoughts..

Right, i am going to place banana skins under the feet of old ladies, sit back and laugh at their mis fortune, so got to run....

ITS BEEN EMOTIONAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!