The Artist behind the Mask

I want to be corrupted by "Her".
I want to feel "Her" embrace.
I want to be inside "Her".
I want to create beautiful art with "Her".

There is no "Her" though. I'm really tired of being alone, and the last few months have been really hard. Of course with my current situation, nothing can be easy. I continue to walk in a different world, and isolation is always the theme of my life now.

My social life seems to revolve around medical appointments, and my Drawing group. I seriously don't know how I could deal with life without the group. I rarely even see the few friends that I have in my life, so the group entertains me. Instead of going out on the weekends, I'm hanging out on Tuesday nights. I'm really trying not to hit on any models anymore, but it seems like I'm always relating with the models. The male to female ratio for the artists still tends to be unbalanced. There has only been one art girl that I was really into. Maybe two. I seriously need another outlet to meet people. Ghent is actually an eclectic area, but I still feel like I'm out of place. As long as I'm in Virginia, I don't think I'll ever be happy. Unless I'm back in Richmond. I would say Northern Virginia, but the traffic and cost of living is too ridiculous. I like a nice middle ground, although I wish I could live in San Francisco. Why can't I just meet some creative individual who is into me? I've met some creative and interesting individuals on-line in the last few years, but no one lives here. It can get depressing. Someone needs to save me, and introduce me to "Her".

As of Monday May 14, I was back in the hospital.  For my second major surgery in two years. My right knee was grafted this time though. I  went in for a scope of my knee that morning, and  I was released that day with a  grafted knee. I wasn't prepared at all this time. My knee specialist didn't tell me before that morning that he could graft the knee. If  the results from the scope revealed that I needed the graft. So, I'm caged  once again. I believe the recovery time is only 8 weeks. That can't compare to the 4.5 months that  I spent on crutches when my thigh bone head was grafted.

The late Rick James said " Cocaine is a hell of a drug". Prednisone is also a hell of a drug. That med did more damage than good. If I had known that the med could cause bones to decay (a condition called Avascular Necrosis/AVN), I highly doubt I would've touched the med. The bone grafts to correct my AVN issues are never pleasant.  It seems like the last several years has been filled with pain in my life. My knee actually doesn't feel too bad at the moment. I didn't even start using Vicodin until the second day after my graft. My Mother was on my case, since I refused to use pain meds. I caved in eventually,  when the pain kept me up all night. I just hate how Vicodin makes me feel, and I can't see how people would abuse the med. I weened myself off the med over the weekend. I'm not experiencing any real pain, which is odd to me. The first graft was intense, and that first week was very painful.

I still hate being tied to my bed. I get around better on a grafted knee though. I'm trying not to go insane at home. I miss my Drawing group more than anything. The group was my one escape from everything. The only real social time for me as well. After each session, the usual suspects and me would venture out to a pub or bar. I even had a brief something with one of the models. I still wish I hadn't deleted all the posts I made about her here. The way everything went down though...it just didn't make any sense. Anyways, that's a subject for another day. I just want to have some fun.

So, I guess I should discuss my other health issues. On a postive note, the left thigh head healed on it's own. That is one graft that I can avoid. Hopefully, I'm done with grafts now. The thigh is still weak, and a pain to deal with for support right now. The recent MRI showed no signs of the AVN though. I'll blame  positive energy for the healing, and my Mother will blame her family's strong genes...lol. My Orthopedic doctor for my thigh thinks I have tendonitis around the thigh bone head. I was actually talked into getting a Cortisone shot for it. A quick fix, but the med is a steroid as well. i should have known better, and I was miserable for a whole month. The side-effects were too much for me. It was like being on Prednisone all over again.

Remission for my Myositis still seems like a fantasy at times. My Rheumatologist referred me to a Neurologist, and the Neurologist is trying to send me to John Hopkins. JH actually has a Myositis clinic, and I have a number of friends from my support group trying to go there. From all over the East Coast. My closest friend drives from NY to the clinic in Baltimore for her treatment now. I doubt I will ever be "normal", although I look "normal". I'm more health conscious these days though, and Buddhist philosophy has changed the way that I think, and look at the world. Just like my unfinished art though, I'm a work in progress. I'm trying to stay positive, and let my light shine. I just want what everyone else wants. To be loved...to be successful...

I attempted to catch a mugger Tuesday night. Probably not the smartest thing to do at the moment. 

It was another typical night for me Tuesday. Another session with the Drawing Group. The atmosphere was a tad bit different that night though. No one had bothered to bring any music. The model didn't even show up. One of the group members volunteered to pose though. Always interesting when that happens. Well, during our second pose of the night, we heard screaming downstairs. It's not uncommon to hear a lot of interesting sounds below our studio space. That part of Granby Street always has some interesting characters hovering around the area. That night though, we heard screams for help. One of the female members suggested that we should figure out what was going on. So, a handful of us went downstairs. I managed to lead the small group. Across the street, you could see two men pushing against each other. Not the typical image of what you would think a mugging looks like. For a second, I thought they were participating in some kind of sexual experience. I believe the female member was thinking the same thing. We crossed the street though, and the old man yelled that he was being mugged. The alleged mugger actually claimed that he wasn't mugging him, and then he continued to push against the old man. That's when all of us sprinted towards the two men. I wasn't thinking at all. It was a reaction to the moment. I didn't think about my grafted leg. I didn't think about my other leg. I didn't think about my active muscle disease. I was ahead of everyone, and the mugger chose to run when he saw me approaching him. It didn't take long for my grafted leg to give out on me though. The reality of my life. One of the guys from the group continued to chase him, but I didn't expect him to catch him. He came downstairs with a pool stick apparently though, and attempted to throw the stick at the mugger. The mugger would drop his coat, and eventually run off as he dodged the stick.

My cell phone flew off my belt while I was running, and the female member was on my cell with 911 as I limped back towards the scene of the crime. My body was in so much pain. The tendons around my grafted thighbone were shooting pain. My muscles throughout my back and chest felt like they were going to explode. Why didn't I think this out? I know I may look like I'm healthy, but I'm far from being healthy. Especially lately. If anything, I should know better then to chase a mugger. I live in the hood, and I know how things are. How desperate people become when they're on drugs or living in poverty. What was I going to do if I had caught him? I would've handled him easily before my illness and surgery.

It didn't take long for the cops to approach the scene. They took some statements, but you could see that they knew they wouldn't catch the guy. With all these visual artists chasing the mugger, we couldn't give a good description. The old man didn't do any better, and the cops allowed us to return to the group without taking our names and info. We would learn that the mugger managed to get away with the old mans wallet while he waited for the bus. Off and on, you could see our group organizer taking photos of us from the studio window. Just another night in Norfolk.

Returning to the studio, I could barely make it up the stairs. I didn't even feel like drawing, once I made it up the stairs. I managed to complete one 20 minute study, and the typical gesture studies for the whole night. Not a good session for me at all.

I'm still sore days later after the incident. My body has been sluggish, and I haven's been able to stay up late. I don't think I damaged my grafted leg, but I feel horrible still.

Yes, art = pain apparently. I'm not doing too well at the moment. My muscles in my back bother me more then anything. They feel twisted, tight, sore, and throb like they're about to explode. It seems like at every Drawing session now, I'm dealing with some intense muscle discomfort. I just try to stay focus on capturing the model. I feel like I have a lot to prove to others, as well as myself. So, I never give up on a real pose. Drawing tonight was a struggle though. I don't think being off my meds for two months was a good thing. I didn't have a choice though. I really needed the root canal, and I couldn't stay on the meds as well. I tried, and the results were not pleasant. Do you want to know something? I haven't been up to going to my group lately, but I feel better when I'm there. Even through the pain. I'm so focused, and my work hasn't been too bad. I'm just tired of living like this. I finally started another drug. Cellcept. Hopefully, that will lead to remission. I just want to create beautiful work, and be able to enjoy life.


Anyways, I guess I should post some work here. This is probably one of my best pieces that I've created in a session.