Some people who see my work like to tell me how great it must be to have my imagination and be able to create these ideas for paintings. I suppose for the average person, it could seem a little mysterious where these somewhat odd concepts might come from. Sometimes one of the people might say something about how they wish they could be inside my head to see how it works. You DO NOT want this. Just take my word for it. I've been in there and it's ALL kinds of messed up. As an example, this a what I can remember of a dream I just recently had...
On a football field through grainy file footage, Joe Theismann is having his leg sawed off just above the knee. It seems that a ten inch spike has been driven through his knee cap and deep into the ground during one of the plays and there is no way to get it out. So as the medics grind through the last of the bone and tissue, Joe suddenly stops his horrible, agonized screaming. Joe is a professional. He knows he doesn't want to let his team down so as the two guys grab him under the arms and begin to drag his mangled body away, he raises his crooked, bloody arm and gives the 'thumbs-up' to the crowd.
It's at this time that we notice how bad his injuries are. He's covered in blood with huge gaping wounds across his abdomen. His intestines are spilling out and dragging behind him on the field. More of the spikes poke out from his back and from between his ribs. His left eye dangles out of it's socket from the optic nerve. His shoulder looks so crushed that his skin might be the only thing holding his arm on. It looks as if he's been attacked and fed on by a pack of wild animals.
Cut to modern day HD footage of Joe running out on to the field in a blazer. He jogs over and kneels down in the exact spot where the spike went through. As the footage of the old chopped up knee gets superimposed over the new current knee on the ground, we see Joe smiling wide and giving the goddamn 'thumbs-up' again.
Cut to a parade in Joe's honor. He's on a float with the waving crowds all around and turns directly to us (as if we were the camera) and smiles again while a voice over says how Joe never REALLY valued his Rabbit Phone until after the injury... He's holding a tiny live rabbit with an antenna sticking out of it's head, poking at this creature with his giant mangled football fingers, dialing I assume, because apparently he's going to make a fucking phone call with this rabbit!
So at this point in the dream I wake up all tense and sweating. It's too early to get up so I just lay there trying not to think about anything because if my mind gets going it can be nearly impossible for me to get back to sleep. Hopefully I'll drift off if I can think about something that is simple and pleasant so my brain will relax. Instead of that happening, this is the progression of thoughts that my oh so fantastic brain came up with as I rolled over and closed my eyes...
My bed is so great. So firm. I love my bed...
I remember I bought this bed at that place down the street from my old apartment...
I loved my bed so much that when Mom needed a bed I told her that she should go to the same place...
She hated her new bed.
That was the bed she died in.
She spent her last weeks on earth miserable in a bed she hated that I convinced her to buy.
So as you can imagine, there would be no going back to sleep this day. Instead, I decided to get up and write all this down so I could put it on the fucking internet. Good lord, what is wrong with me?