The truth of all of it occurs when I reflect on being half of what she is, in terms of the artist & art. I am exactly half. Of her whole. The level I represent is 50% the level of hers. At fullest capacity, at “The Artist Henry,” I am still 50% less than she is, my mom is, as an artist. 100% of my inclination, talent, and if we are to believe a “gift” is involved, a gift for self-expression through tangible mediums comes from her lineage. Yet she represents half of my DNA. Thus, as you see, I am only half. From the start I recognize I’m already much less talented, gifted, and inclined than at least one, by a long shot–by half. Written & visual: half. Maybe not written, but she is still quite good. She might be double. I might be right there with her on that. Maybe surpassed but lets not assume. Visually & intellectually without a doubt half. The thing is she stopped the pursuit of 44 well over a decade ago when she began her iconography practice. And she never publicized or gave credit to the power of her words. Her paintings, though outstanding in concept, form, and technique, were and have been held privately. 50% less but I’ve made different choices. My choices might better fit my lessened skill. “Prolific,” Henry says, again & again. Maybe the word count will make up for the real lack of the other half, the other 50%. But what of the other 50%. How does it make me different, in a positive way? There is no doubt I am significantly visually inept in comparison. There is no question about it. Giving myself 50% in comparison is almost prideful because a single digit may represent what I’ve got. Vocabulary: 50% or less. I’m being nice to myself. I am incorporating aspirations (of studying the dictionary & syntax again). In a way all of this is to, kind of, apologize. I am not the real deal. If I am the real deal then damn, we let a realer deal pass right by us. I’m not hating on iconography. Tradition and technique is all I see in that practice though, and I don’t do either of those. Inspiration & abundance will be my attributes I guess. I think what I’m reflecting out loud is a coming to truth moment: “I am not the one.” I can’t be. I’m much too less of already one– however talented, inclined, and gifted she is, was, & will continue to be. So here we are. I have to work with what I’ve got. No kidding it’s a lot. Abundance in many forms. Perfect timing. Stability. Unpredictability. There’s hope on the horizon (the child). My 50% with her 50% (the poet) might recreate a version 3.0, and the real player deal closer may rise far beyond any of his or her predecessors, ahead of all successors, far far beyond them all carrying the flag higher & stronger than neither my mom nor I could ever have. If it doesn’t work out like that I believe it will have been by choice. Supported either way, always here, never there, forever & ever. I love you guys!
In the style of non-fiction. I grew up being entertained by video & computer games. Sometimes the entertainment was playing video or computer games with friends. This was the reality of things. I, a hero, conquering tyrants & minions. I, a young boy, sitting & staring & creating dysfunctions in my body, forming walls & barriers. It was me doing my best then. So when teachers assigned books to be read, mostly if not all fiction, I refused to read them. It was not my chosen form of entertainment. I found them irrelevant. I already had my form of entertainment. Then, & still now, I do not or did not believe there was or is value in mostly all fiction writing. It is suitable I write this, or have written this on the toilet. It has come to my attention that my distaste for fiction & novels has created a barrier between myself & my best style: fiction! It’s true. Damnit, I am a fiction writer at my best. Look at The Chronicles of Mania–the only good pieces, in terms of writing, is when I write fictionally I think.. That time ago when we declared the style of “unfiction” has also created a block for us. It’s kind of been a safety vest for our writing. That is to say, when the mediocrity is apparent we find an excuse to protect it from a truth. This is also why the brown desk probably has sucked so far. I am not saying fiction is good, or the novels of our time are good– I wouldn’t know & will never know– I’m just saying that fiction is my natural, best style as a writer. For better or for worse. The voice of Henry emerges as a subconscious transition into fiction. We are to then cross from non-fiction, into unfiction [fiction writing almost based entirely on full truths], into fiction, which perhaps is the style of my treasured concept of “no limits.” It’s true. Carl got me thinking about it yesterday. & i like, just knew it. Rather than the overtones being so heavy, as is the style of nonfiction & unfiction, fiction offers play as the overtone, and leaves the heaviness as the undertone. That’s much more of what I’d like to do with my time here on Earth. No one is going to play with me otherwise. Hell, I may even stop playing with myself. It gets real boring after a while. Video games are best played with friends. Although they can be played alone, I prefer to play with friends. So all of this reduced: the universe has given me a signal to expand the way I write.