- Not for the Light Hearted
I wrote this earlier today.
the past few days have been little more than a battle with depression. I think I've been depressed for a long time except it's easier to deny it, or believe in something beyond the textbook definition. I find myself constantly looking or something to believe in, since I can't seem to believe in myself. Despite my talent, my joie de vivre, I can barely seem to get out of the bed in the morning, mentally. My body feels exhausted and my dreams have been wrought with nightmares. I wake without feeling rested, rather tried by the trials my subconscious has placed before me.
Yesterday I tried writing about three encounters I've had this week. One involved a chance encounter with a stranger who offered me Chicken Wings outside a local pub, Swans. i initially turned him down, but as he pressed on with his offering, saying they were fresh and that he and his friend had over-stuffed themselves, I obliged. Minutes later, I received a call from my girlfriend that she had finished work. Being downtown, she met up with me and we walked home together.
The other day I was outside carving some new Worry Dolls. A man strolled by and caught my attention. Before I could respond, he asked, in a playful tone reminiscent of my friend Turner, and myself, "Whatcha do-ing?" I answered, and went on to explain the simplicity behind the figurines. He introduced himself, saying, "My name is Trevor, what's yours?" Taken aback, I replied that my name was Trevor too, not to be mistaken with Trevor Two. We chatted some more before my Montreal lineage came up. "Bien calisse moi je suis né au Québec (Fuck, I'm born in Quebec)" he replied. The encounter was getting interesting. Shortly afterwards I invited him into my home. We shared a bowl, and started talking about life. I asked him what drugs he took, and before I knew it he was pulling a crack pipe out of his pocket. He asked if I was judging him. I felt ambiguous, having never been with a crack smoker before. We talked some more before he asked if I felt threatened. There was too much going on in my head to answer him. Eventually, we made peace, and walked to the local park. There we engaged in more conversation, and as he was about to take his first hit a group of children walked by. He put his pipe away saying something about "not in front of the kids." It was humbling. Once they passed, he took his toke, and we continued conversing about the world. It was a pleasant affair. When I arrived home, I noticed he left his cellphone on my bed. When he returned later, I handed it to him, at the door.
Death is an interesting subject, one that consumes most of us throughout our lives.
- Oh my god it never ends...
Not that I want it to, yet...
Just wrote a super duper e-mail out to all my fans after revamping my deviantart page to include photos for the first time in 4 years. Yeaaah.
Anyways, I'm fresh out of words so you'll have to make due with little to none. If you guys want the juicy stuff, sign up for the newsletter. I seem to be filling it up with enough literary energy to drain me for the blog, and yes, I see how that can be a bad thing.
As a quick recap: been a wild ride of a week, in a good way. I've been eating properly, pumping out drawings, enjoying campfires, meeting new people, and all-around having a really good time. Ya'll should do the same. If you're stressed, relax, take a breath, and enjoy.
Speaking of which, I have an old apartment to clean with a dear friend and a persnickity landlord to impress. Check out the links for the real goodies.
Ciao.
Links!
http://darklabstudios.deviantart.com/ - you'll find the array of photos I've drawn this week: 8 or 9, booya.
- Yet another post
Well now, time for the weekly post, this time done in a timely fashion. Just sent out the newsletter, which you guys should totally join: e-mail me at trevor@darklabstudios.com to get added, and you'll receive updates on all things Darklabstudios, including whimsical observations and chit-chatter that flows from my mind to my fingertips to your screens for your reading pleasure. It's quite a hoot writing them up, and I'd love for more people to receive them.
In KBS news, we had Michael Horowitz on last week, talking his art, both hand-drawn and digital, as well as how he goes about networking and promoting himself. Check him out at http://mikejwitz.tumblr.com/ and be sure to follow him on twitter @MikeJWitz. He uses his tweets really well and he'll be a good role model for anyone trying to figure out how to use tweeting as a social media.
Lastly, having moved into the Fernwood community in Victoria, I've been graced by a slew of proud artists who know what they're talking about and are willing to share and embrace with open arms. Unlike a school I was attending a few months back where I was having a hard time spreading my wings and sharing my work. But that's neither here nor there, positive attitude all the way!
Here's a poem I wrote in grade 9. As I mentioned in the newsletter, I don't know what I was going for in regards of formatting, but it's interesting to see how my mind had shaped and developed since then. Enjoy.
Me
Grade 9 has its up and downs,
It has its nerds as well as class clowns.
And then there are kids who do not think,
And do stupid things and then lose themselves
But I’m not like that because of my mind,
Which changes my attitude towards mankind.
I’m different from the others because I think differently,
If I agreed with the crowd, it just wouldn’t be me.
It’s more interesting when people act like themselves,
And do what they really want to do.
Instead of following the rest of the crowd,
I go through life, opposing things I see,
While other people accept how everything “should” be.
I’m a man who’s very different from the rest of the world,
Which at times can make you sad and lonely and cold.
And for all of you who haven't, follow us on facebook and twitter and help me pump those numbers up, waaaaay up!
trevor twitter: @darklabstudios
kickin back sunday twitter: @trevandspence
broken pattern facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Broken-Pattern-by-Trevor-Burnett/120768367...
kickin back sunday facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kickin-Back-Sunday/177430445643036
- It Wasn't Meant to Be
So I'm settling into my new place; furniture is being moved around and the chi grows stronger everyday. The greatest part about the neighbourhood I've moved into is the midnight atmosphere, which is important for someone with my adventure and nightcrawl character.
Last night I bumped into a party of travellers who led me to a party of people. In a room sat untold dollars of musical merchandise, and yours truly grabbed a fretless bass and jammed out with a slew of talented musicians for the rest of the night. Tonight I wandered into a group of yound adults playing duck duck goose. A game of British Bulldog soon ensued and I left shortly afterwards, not feeling the vibe.
It was then that I chanced upon a couple of frames for will-be-canvasses at the local gazebo/ecclectic drop off spot. There I met another traveller by the name of JD. We talked briefly, I mentioning a find of a Vonnegut book and he seconded the worthy claim. As I walked away, arms full of gracious gifts, three small jars (that I was going to use in new pocket paradises) fell, one of them bursting into shards. Before I could say anything, for I think faster than I speak (if that can be imagined) he tooks the words out of my mouth, "Wasn't meant to be."
That was the theme of the night, after meeting the local owner of a Hookah/Turkish coffee spot in town dubbed the Darban Tea House, a place I will be venturing to soon.
