owenlarkin

Nobody/everybody I've got to be honest with you. I'm screwed bigtime. I'm not talking normal screwed, I'm talking two bottles of ammonia and bleach tossed into a trash compacter in a poorly ventilated room screwed. Let's break this down, shall we? I was working as a housekeeper at a mental hospital until I got hit and ran by a red pickup truck back in March. I happened to be living with hoarder parents at the time but a friend of mine offered a room to rent out with my savings so I wouldn't have to live in a trash heap. The expectation was to have me get back up on my feet and able to pay full rent by the point my friend was going to move out of state but I couldn't find work that paid enough to sniff my rent's bootheels, and this place is abnormally cheap. I never got a driver's license, my right arm is badly damaged and struggles to hold up a loaf of bread, I don't have a college degree, and I never apprenticed in any trade. My art has never made me any money, and neither has my music. I'm an object for pity; a peasant. When I attempted suicide in late July I wanted to escape the consequences of being dead broke. Now I'm tempted to go try heroin and really screw my life up because this ship can only go further down. It feels cathartic to convince others of how bad I have it. I get a nice sweet aftertaste of numbness and the existential hum starts to dull in my mind. Nobody seems to know who I am so it feels like it's pointless to ask for help. Life made sense when I was about to kill myself; it let me enjoy things more knowing I was going to die before any real problems could arise. If I could be about to kill myself for the rest of my life but never commit to it I might lead a very fulfilled life always in the present moment. I seem to oscillate between the two states of being either cripplingly anxious and dissociative or self assured and suicidal. All I want to do is relax and feel a sense of purpose. Maybe I won't be able to relax and feel a sense of purpose at the same time but that's fine by me. Ideally I'd be able to feel both at the same time, and I think that art would allow me to be that way if anyone thinks I'm worth their money. Here's my Patreon if anyone's interested: https://www.patreon.com/owenlarkin

I like to think that, sometimes, when I give context I'm giving it to an indefinitely large amount of people in the future. It helps me not mince my words because the stakes are high if I do. There's this virtual world inside my head that I'm tending and cultivating so that the most accurate image of me is there to see. I generally don't lie or express anything I believe to be false because there are many very difficult truths I have expressed to you, nobody/everybody, that I don't want to render into moot efforts by introducing doubt. I see this, metaphorically, like posting a vector graphic file where it's indefinitely publicly available like the internet just so one can imagine the image being projected onto a building or even the moon one day by someone else. It's unlikely that it'll happen, sure, but by making it possible I can dream more vividly. I don't like to publish accounts of where I'm at, what I'm doing, who I'm with, what have you. I consider that a breach of the privacy of the others I'm surrounded by. What I err towards most is cerebral posts about how I think that have the bare minimum of life-goings-on details mixed in. This is a parasocial relationship, nobody/everybody. I don't want you to forget that. Details about my real life that I don't elaborate on can be found with some digging and I've accepted that it's a vain effort to make it impossible for you to know them. The practical option is to give just enough details that you're not hungry for more. Here's some details that are vaguely relevant. - I was born in Bolivar, MO - I'm currently 22 years old. - I have face blindness. - I started making art when I was in a high-school Spanish class because doodling looked like I was doing my work. - I once watched a video about Dali making what he called "automatic drawings" and got inspired to scribble and retroactively turn it into art. Turned out I got inspired by a fascist. - I once found some zentangle drawing timelapse videos and found them satisfying enough that I started putting zentangle patterns in my art. - I have mild autism and I'm sure that explains quite a lot. I only found out this year after a suicide attempt put me into a psych ward. Before they had me diagnosed with Bipolar but now the running theory from my psych is that I'm a Schizotypal Autistic. Have fun with all that data, weirdos. I'm hoping it's enough to make it a "notable post" so that there's some chance my message at the start is read. Toodle-two!

Language is duplicitous so, to clear things up, I'll say that I don't hope I never make money from my art. I'd rather be paid to be alive to make art rather than by my art because otherwise the root source of my art is changed. I don't want to make art that is multitasking as an advertisement for a purchase because my current art isn't and I value consistency. How would I get away with cultivating such a lifestyle? There's services like Patreon, Paypal, CashApp, you name it, that offer ways I can monetize being alive. Other people have accomplished similar things before me so I don't think it's inherently out of the question. If it means I have to work a job then so be it. I value consistency so I'd rather be paid for being the person I am than be paid by what I produce. The things I make are not intended to be profitable. I don't know how they would be priced if I died tomorrow and I don't particularly care. If people enjoy what I do while I'm around to the point where they'd pay to keep me alive I'll have much more love in my life if I let those people in before the ones who fall in love with objects. Here's my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/owenlarkin/posts