"Tears For Beers"

Well, Well, Well, my little wannabees.... I bet you thought my reighn was over. Your assumption was/is probably correct. However, I feel the urge to sputter out some verbage perhaps one last time or perhaps not. I have finally defeated the SUNY System (to the best of my thinkery) and let me tell you puttin that little bitch to bed took me a ruff 5 1/2 years. Was it worth it? Who cares.

I am very pleased to be able to finally downshift my brain and put my feet up for a little while. Heck now that Im outta school balding doesn't seem so bad!

Anyshit, in the spirit of looking twoards the future this is what I have worked out so far:

1) Bunk with Dad (he's gonna love having his 24 year old dog-fart of a son drinkin' his whiskey and stinkin up his couch).

2)Work with Dad for as long as his boss permits, then hopefully find a job at a samich shop that doesn't demand a high level of cerebral output. Save up up my earnings spending a minimal amount on the essentials (e.g. eggs, booze,bath salt, Gene Pitney Greatest Hits Compilations, etc...)

3)Move to colorado with my painting amigo and his bride to be, and try desperately to fit in with some type of scene there.

4) Upon the realization that I was ultimately (and to no avail) trying to run away from myself I will begin to import my "315" buddies who will facilitate an era of social imobility and alienation from any and all groups and scenes in the area.

5) Move back to Borodino and run for the position of town drunk.

oh, In a previous post I wrote "imbide" when I meant to write "imbibe" (I think) I just caught that, sorry for the confusion. Ok kids, Uncle Swabby is gonna need to prepair for his 3:00 nap. Buenos Aires y Adidas.....Tears for Beers.

"Ima real bad momma, Ima real bad man"

...The mongrel at work.

"I guess I DID know something I didn't"

Here are some overdue photos of my current project. Some are complete others are in process. I am currently on-track to have c.a. 10 oil paintings done and c.a. 20 water colors done by the end of april. I plan on writing another mellow-dramatic and self-deprecating entry complete with run-on sentences and overly-used hyphens as soon as I compile enough bad ju-ju. Thanks to everyone for your help thus far, see you soon!

"only an odor remains"

Oh yes its that time again. Thats right kiddies uncle swab is back in town! It is currently the day after st patricks day and I am nursing a minor hangover. Last night I ate a most tasty lamb leg while visiting the ca 1820 house. I also chose to imbide several vodkas and later upon arriving at my dear friends house I indulged further in a few beers and a heartfully made peanut butter sammich. Also, i had the pleasure of facebook chatting with my dear old friend Katie. Katie's kind words momentarily pumped warmth into the heart-shaped hole in my chest that is typically only filled with an unpleasant odor. The night was a success. In other news, I have rejoined the work force and I am enjoying almost every minute of it. I have worked all but one day of this break at a local supermarket...what department you ask? Seafood!! Seeing the pleasure in peoples faces when I hand then a wrapping of dead sea creatures is priceless and needless to say...I have been incorporating more of the sea's fruit into my own diet. Sadly because of my money-making exploits, I have had limited time to grind on my art over break. However I have the next few days off and I plan to make some sizable advancements in my projects. Anyway, my attention span is faltering. I am discontinuing this post...see you wannabees next time.

"Bury my heart at Raquette Lake"

Ahhh sweet youth. So, again we find ourselves in the oh-so-predictable mid winter slump. I find myself pushing forward through these sickly days with no real goal or purpose in mind. Maybe a better way of putting it is I'm going through a minor identity crisis. In years past I had always had some activity or routine I could confide in. Skateboarding, Music, Grappling, Striking etc....If nothing else, these activities served as a vehicle for social mobility. Meeting new people was never the goal, only a bi-product that conveniently united me and my "teams" with other like minded turkeys. As I enter my mid twenties I figure most scenes that used to accommodate me would either write me off as a drunk, big-kid who never grew up or even worse...they would respect my devotion....Skateboarding and punk rock are simply out of the question. Grappling and boxing require a sincere devotion if one hopes to do anything other than be dominated by big, strong men....Devotion is for someone with goals. The truth is, hard headed bumblers like myself simply dont cut it in combative sports anymore. So I ask myself, what is it that I do? I powerlift, but I do that privately and dont compete. Huh. I do art! I am in fact an art major! So where does that leave me? Well I'm glad you asked...It leaves me drinking beer and telling dirty, crass jokes to kids who only want to perpetually analyze marxist ideals and yell "Fuck Republicans" from safe homes....-Oh and lets not forget immediately trying to demonstrate their intellectual superiority over me because my physique reminds them of someone who spat in their chocolate milk in highschool. What the hell ever happened to having a house party or piling a bunch of people into a car and going to dennys?
I have spent alot of time reflecting lately, reflecting on cortland, cortland people, old friends and friends to be. I guess what is ultimately bugging me is I've spent almost five years in college and I'm not sure what exactly I have to show for it. Technical knowledge and ass-kissing abilities seem like more of a consolation prize than a degree at this point. Just as before at OCC I find myself sitting idly as a swath of people (who have permanently integrated themselves into my dreams in the best of ways) spread their wings and move on (and leave me here to do my time and scorn the next generation of kiddie boppers who slither into the program). Throughout the endless waste and "letting go" at college, I had always maintained an outlook that I would find something special for myself...Someone to take with me maybe. Visions of sipping tea outside in the spring with a nice girl haunt me every year when I am confronted with the reality of drinking beer by myself in a lawn chair whilst muttering "maybe next spring". I am approaching my last spring at suny cortland, I find myself running my fingers through my thinning brown hair and screaming with my mouth shut as I flip through past prospects and all of the most sweet and memorable "what ifs" and "maybes" and "She's pretty cools". All of these feelings struck me at once when I listened to the song: art isn't real by: deer tick. I listened to this band a lot last summer and it reminded me of a girl I was into. Having even the prospect of something on the horizon is usually enough to keep me chuggin' at 110%. Lately I have no hopes or prospects in that area, and, frankly the idea of trying to get to know more people and learning someone else's story with so little time left here makes me wanna slam my head in a door....I feel equally bad about assuming the same pre-prospect routine. So, for now I'll humor the endless "You're a good guy" like consolations as I seriously debate joining a co-ed volleyball team....I need a scotch.

"I'm Sorry Wilson!"

"So much lost...So much Forgotten...So what?"

Here are some paintings and sketch-work that supports them. The paintings aren't done, they will be subject to much more personal knit picking until Im satisfied with their outcome. The goal of my thesis series is to depict a physical manifestation that corresponds with a simplified emotional, internal identity. In other words, if I were to put it in the form of a question...it would sound something like this: "What would you look like if your body was a direct representation of your mind?". I was inspired by a real life example of this when I was at the Tomik fitness center on the Suny Cortland campus. I witnessed a myriad of young men who had transformed their bodies into shapes and sizes that simply yield no functional purpose for a human being. They were students of body building. For those who are unfamiliar, (modern)body building is a competitive sport in which one seeks to bastardize the human form and turn it into an ultra hellenistic showpiece. Muscle strength, endurance and personal athleticism are not judged. As I watched these gorillas make a mockery out of themselves and the fundamentals of strength training I realized they had transformed their bodies into their inner selves! This was quite an impressive thought! However, their success in the way of self-expression was more of a window into their own inner faults and absences of security than anything else (that's just like my opinion, ya dig?). -In any case, my paintings analyze thought process along with a corresponding figure(s). I stack masonite board to create a distinction between physical realms and conceptual realms. The handling of my paint is rough, physical and loose. The odd physical manifestations I depict are not of this world, that being said I would rather depict them loosely giving the viewer the chance to "fill in the gaps" with their imagination and come to their own conclusions about the creature and it's mind (and perhaps even wonder if their inner beastie bares some resemblance to those I have depicted...)