Art that makes me feel. Feel something more than the normal, mundane melancholy I bathe in. I want art that leaves me festering with emotions, like parasitic worms in a bloated seal's stomach lining. Give me happiness, billy goat horned up rage, and scenic suicidal stereotypes served sweltered but stagnant.

In life, we experience loss with each passing second, and we may not see that until enough seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, weeks, years, and lives have gone by. But art allows us to give those lost moments a place, purpose, and point. I am inspired by where I and others have been, are, and will be, and capturing the depraved shit-stained truck stop toilet bowl that are mammal emotions swirl in, gives the hopelessness I see in myself some gravity that isn't gluttony.

Quit my job in an erotic blusterous manner, to which there is no return. Then come home, and drink 12.7 beers while I watch my two golden retrievers (Sven & Olaf) play in my horribly landscaped yard. Now I assume that while the two golden serpents of God play, my eyes would gloss over and shine with wet rejoice. My neighbor will wave as always, and maybe on this day I might wave back, but most likely I will not because I take pride in my nihilistic approach to neighboring. I will stare though.