The Cyclops and the Lamp

My left eye hid itself for a long time behind a plaster because some doctor had called my right eye lazy (unfair punishment on my left eye, it’s true). If I would have been a toddler now, it would have probably just been categorised ad ADD, I’d have been put ritalin, and my good eye would have slowed down a bit to make way for an all-invigorating blank stare.
I remember bumping into many things because of the huge plaster on my eye. Sure, onlookers could have mistaken me for some kind of supernatural cyclops heroically head-butting a lamp post, destroying it (mostly in my imagination), and carrying on my day as if nothing had happened (except for the fact that Timmy would be crying and having a major bump on his forehead – scars of war, I tells ya).
I did not meet Depth Perception until it was finally decided that my eye was still lazy, but not so lazy that it wouldn’t follow the other eye around. At least with me, you don’t have to make the agonising choice of choosing the right eye to look at when talking to me (and the right eye would be the left eye, just to be clear!). Since then, I have been virtually living as a closeted cyclops with an eye too much. A hundred years ago, a bright future as circus freak would lie ahead of me. Now, sadly, nobody is willing to pay good money to see someone like me, certainly not given the fact that anyone can just go online and watch an overweight midget be fisted by a Taiwanese hermaphrodite in a wheelchair. Us regular freaks have been completely priced out of the market.
It’s not that I haven’t tried leading a two-eyed life, I sure have, but give me a BB gun and tell me to shoot the Cola can right next to the baby kitten, and I guarantee you the baby kitten will be shot to pieces (why anyone would place these two next to each other is completely beyond me, still it worked to prove my point). As with any of my other birth defects (obesity, incontinence, etc.), I have found an ingenious way of hiding it. I can fake depth perception perfectly, just don’t ask me to shoot the kitten lying next to the endangered baby panda bear.
I have often wondered if my interest in both fine arts & literature along with my interest in linguistics, technology & science has its foundation in my eye malfunction. Suppose I am actually born with a mathematical, logical brain (hahahaha!) but because my left eye is so dominant (really, I see no difference when I cover my right eye or not) I only get most of my visual information through my right, creative, hemisphere. So everything I see gets filtered through the right part of my brain before reaching the left hemisphere for a stone-dry analysis.

Whenever I will be put to trial for shooting someone, I already have my perfect response…
‘But judge, I have here with me a baby kitten that I will place next to this adorable human baby belonging to the victim’s widow. Now I will try to shoot the baby with this police officer’s gun… may I?"
"OBJECTION! You can’t give that freak a gun!!!!"
"Denied, I want to see this. Give him your gun, warden."
"Thanks. So here, I’ll try to shoot the baby from 10 feet away….."
*takes aim*
*kills victim’s widow*
"See? I can’t aim! I’m a cyclops, damn it!"
"Hmmm… in light of this new information, and also because I’m feeling a bit peckish, I have no choice but to let you free."
If you think this is injust, then feel free to imagine an angry crowd coming up to lynch me and cut me into tiny little pieces, as soon as I was set free.

So you see, it really takes a one-eyed man to truly see. All you two-eyed wankers are nothing but blind, blind, blind….
And you all know….
In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king…

*kneels to receive his divine power to rule over all*

2005 YU55

I would make a good astronomer, mostly because I am awake at night while other people are sound asleep, dreaming about participating in the Tour de France and coming 16,807th (an honourable ranking considering that this dreaming person’s mother, who also participated, gave up after one day). 

This being said, I would also make a good astrologist, because A) like I said, I am awake at night so I can stay up to answer astrology hotline phone calls from desperate people seeking help from the stars, and B) I can talk a lot of crap. 

The asteroid 2005 YU55 (what’s in a name, right?) would pass us by tonight, and astronomers told us it really really wouldn’t hit us. If I were an astronomer (now we come to the part where I explain why I would be a good one), and I would discover an asteroid may be headed straight towards the genital area of a 28-year-old narcissist in Belgium to then kill off the entire continent and intoxicate the rest of the world, I wouldn’t bother revealing the truth to the government that pays my salary. I would say "no, it definitely won’t hit us" upon which I would rush off to my nearest ALDI, buy everything they have, then head home and start digging a shelter. Or maybe I’d hijack a plane and head for Hawaii. 
What also speaks for me, is that I don’t turn into a conspiracy theorist, saying everything that astronomers said about the matter is a lie and that we in fact are all doomed subjects, awaiting judgment from our Master Lord Xenu and his warrior princess with a heart of stone, but a bosom like thirteen cardboard boxes filled with cabbages (you can tell I am not used to making similes for bosoms, but I can compensate this in other ways, I promise). 

Of course, tonight I did protect my genital area (just in case the prophecy above would have come from a reliable source), I may not look wise, but I do know a comet blast on my testes won’t make me look much better either. 

Let that be my wisdom of the day. 

For what it’s worth….

Whenever I am making an important decision in my life or doing something that might have an influence on the rest of my life, I wonder: "Is it worth it?"

Our time here on earth is limited, I know that (and lament it), so everything a person does should inevitably helps said person to accomplish their true life’s goal, no matter what that is. Fuck comfortable, fuck convenient, just do something you WANT to do. Period. Be the person you want to be and be that person before you’re 60 or else…. 

Sometimes the concept of existence can be a scary one. It has nothing to do with wanting to be remembered or something (because I do honestly believe that, in light of the universe, nothing anyone ever does, will really make a difference), it is just about trying to find a way to survive, for yourself and for others. 

Many people I know try to make aesthetic work and I love them for it. It doesn’t matter what medium they work with: painting, clothing, music, shoes (you just watch Erik!), photography, fine art, etc… It is all about celebrating a certain aesthetic.
I can embrace that, of course, I will readily admit that my work too has an aesthetic appeal to it. The whole process of determining value for something like that is entirely foreign to me, however. I don’t believe there should be something like copyright or value when it comes to artistic work (but then only when there’s a complete overhaul of the system). 

With my ongoing exhibition, I am wondering about the whole thing too and the most annoying part is that not that many people come inside a gallery to look at an artist’s work. How can you try to make a difference if nobody really cares about anything?  Of course it is fun to talk to the few people that do come in and are interested, but still it feels so strange, because we are essentially preaching to the converted…

So is that what artists should do? Love oneself so much and just ignore the 99.999999 percent of people who just don’t give a flying fuck? 

Maybe the world’s creative people should unite and just find a way to make a real impact to improve people’s lives – and the only way it will happen will be through politics, sadly enough. Even though I’m an atheist nihilist, I still want to be a good person and help people. I am sure many artists feel the same way. I guess my biggest issue with art has to do with the commercial side of it and the fact that an artist will only care if it gets sold or not. If that is the case, I will gladly use a 500 euro banknote, sign it, and sell it for 13403 euro (plus VAT of course). It may just as well be an easier process. 
So performance art? The way to go? Not really…. 
I am thinking a political movement can be a work of art. If we come up with a movement that wants to truly change the whole system creatively, then I think we have a shot. If the people of Iceland got convinced to elect a comedian as their new president, then I think anyone can elect a flatulent translator as their new messiah…

I truly hope that in my lifetime, we will be seeing the rise of a new system. And if not, I will do my best to make it happen…