Once again, I'm being asked to forgive an entity who really only exists as a phantom to me.  For the SECOND TIME this has happened.  And by the way, has anyone really asked me to forgive this person?  Okay, it's more like a chess game in my mind, where this is my next move.  

Okay, for the SECOND TIME, my move is to forgive someone I've never even met, may never even meet, who may not even exist in the form that I imagine they exist in.  Okay, see, Vlacav Havel was an Absurdist playwrite. Right?  I'm not familiar with his work at all, but maybe this is an example of an Absurdist plot.  Maybe it's not Absurdist, but just absurd.

This totally reminds me of the time in 1988 when Sara busted the "What a weirdo!  God, what a weirdo!" move and then became frightened when I wheeled around and glowered at her and blurted to her a question about the papers due in the class.  Look at the blog post, "I'm not bad," from January 2016 for that story.

That whole incident was far far better than any dustup I'd ever been in with someone before then, such as the crude sexual proposition I made to Wanda in her car one night, or the attempt to lose my virginity in my truck in 1984 with a girl I call Katy in my books.

The next class after that incident, several women in there kind of let me know they would give me a break on that one.  Many times over the years I'd wished I'd taken advantage of that supposed opportunity, but that would have just been cruel to Sara, and at the time that was not in my nature to be that way.

Now, it's like that Jack Smith performance piece that Tommy Lanigan-Schmidt told me about.  Jack tells the audience of the times that his mother would lock him in the closet and go out for the day.  In the piece he went on and on and on with, "and there I stood in the closet just waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting ,and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and god! Doing nothing but waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting,..." and He would go on for quite a while, symphonically building to the climax of the story where his mother would finally get home and, "She would open the closet and hug me and kiss my cheek and all over my face and say how sorry she was and she would take me over to the table and pull out this big bag of candy and spread out all the pieces on the table and she would pick out one piece and give it to me and keep the rest for herself!"

How do I know this person is not going to do the same thing they did when I forgave them the first time?

That whole incident with Sara was just as formative for me as losing my virginity, and maybe even more formative, because the circumstances that led to my losing my virginity are pretty much a product of their time, while the incident with Sara and all that led up to it and all that followed comprise a well that I still draw water from to this day.

Here's the interview that the UT journalism student requested.  I'm only using his first name as per his request.  I could not write about the things I write about if I started giving up the names of the people that I mention.  That's everyone from friends, to waitresses and baristas, and on up...

Hey Rich,

I appreciate your concern with respecting the right to privacy; feel free to post away as long as you don't include my last name. Here are some questions for you, some of which are boring, but necessary for my article. My piece isn't due until Wednesday, so no worries if you can't reply until Thursday night. Thanks for agreeing to the interview!

Some boring background info questions:

How old are you?I am 52 years old.
Have you always lived in Austin? How did you end up here? I was born, raised, and have lived in Austin for the vast majority of my life.  As I child I lived for a couple of Years in Durham, North Carolina, and later in life I attended graduate school for Fine Arts at the School of Visual Arts in NYC.
Are you able to make art for a living? If not, what do you do to pay the bills? No. I work part-time and collect disability.  The part-time work consists of caring for an elderly family member in their home.  As far as that kind of gig goes, it's pretty much NBA level in terms of compensation, a free apartment, a free car, and lots of time to work on art and music.
When did you start playing open mics? Where and how often do you play?  I started playing open mics last Fall.  I play at New World Deli on Mondays, the Posse East on Tuesdays, and the Songwriter's Circle (don't call it an open mic!) at Cheatham St. Warehouse in San Marcos on Wednesday.  There's another one put on once a month at Malvern Books by VSA Texas, a state arts organization for people with disabilities, called The Lion and the Pirate.

Other questions: 

What inspired you to make your comics on paper plates? Why is this more effective for you than constructing comics in linear form? My Thesis advisor at SVA, Thomas Lanigan-Schmidt, suggested I work on paper plates because he saw that I did a round drawing, a tondo.  His work involves the use of found materials often used in the production of art by children or non-professional artists; glitter, pipe cleaners, reflective tapes, colored tinfoil, paper plates, that kind of thing.  I had the idea of doing comics with them.  What the hell, why not?  I try to make the comics as readable as I can these days.  "Richy Vegas; a Psycho Memoir," is a relatively early work that is akin to a first-time experimental film by an overly-ambitious filmmaker; I threw everything but the kitchen sink into that one, and it shows.  I still have to come up with my own language of presentation of the narratives because of the round format. 

When did you start playing guitar and what inspired you to pick it up? I began a major campaign to quit smoking cigarettes in late 2001. In 2002, I decided that a constructive use for the extra money was to take guitar lessons.  I started out playing classical guitar and trying to learn classical pieces.  I started writing words and composing music, with the first such song coming in December of 2006.  I was also in a band called Insect Sex Act until 2012.  I did not play an instrument, I just did vocals.

How does your schizoaffective disorder shape your everyday life? What challenges do you face that most people wouldn’t realize?  While the medications I've taken over the years, and my willingness to comply with taking them as prescribed, has controlled my symptoms very well, what my illness represents to women I might find attractive remains a big problem.  The best decision I made to deal with this stigma is to quit drinking and drugs and at least remove those two strikes against me, and my commitment to abstinence from drugs and alcohol allowed me to focus on issues of love addiction that the substance abuse buried for so many years.

Is music/art the most effective way for you to cope with your fixations/obsessions? No. A viable support network of friends, family, and the medical/therapy/community support people is the most effective way to cope with the obsessions and fixations (read women) that, before treatment, served as a portal of entry for my depressive episodes, and thus my psychotic episodes.  I'm with the critic Robert Hughes in his assessment that the American belief that art making is an inherently redemptive enterprise is a fallacious belief.  Art making, whether visual arts, music, or literature can absolutely contribute to an art maker's downfall.  For example, when Eric Clapton went into his most effectual rehab stint, they made him leave his guitar at home.   

How do you feel about Daniel Johnston? I’ve seen people compare you two in reviews online.  I would trade careers with Daniel in a heartbeat.  I wouldn't trade the extent of his health problems and how they adversely affect him for mine for all the career success in the world, however. 

Are you happy that you are relatively “undiscovered”? No.  Thomas Lanigan-Schmidt, before he became my thesis advisor at SVA, advised me to forget about making it in the art world and get into film or music.  My frustrations with the art world stem from the gatekeeper system that essentially makes it an oligarchy of influential dealers, curators, collectors, and to some extent, critics.  This system seems to relegate the art world to a relative cultural backwater that puts too much emphasis on big money marquee names that can attract the attention of influential collectors.  Whereas the music world and the film world, for example, are all about butts in the seats, and are, therefore, tons more relevant today than the art world.  Matt seems to always need people to play at his open mic at the Posse East, and lookee lookee, I'm being interviewed.  The self-published indie comic world, even though the elite achievers don't typically date supermodels and make millions of dollars as the elites in the art world can achieve, seems to offer me some hope for upward mobility as well for the same reasons; my money is as green as the next guy's if I want a table at a zine festival or comic convention.   

That's about it, this is Rich saying thanks.

Thanks,
Jack

​

Hi Richy,

My name is Jack and I see you play sometimes at the open mics. I really enjoy your songs and art. For my journalism class, I need to write a feature article on someone and I'm wondering if you would be interested in being interview for my story.

Thanks!
Jack

​Jack, I need to know more about you.  Where do you go to school?  What year are you?  Are you in college, high school, middle school?  Can you provide me with contact information from a third party so that I may check out your story?  Will you be willing to just email me a list of questions and I will answer the questions I want in the way I want?  regards, Rich  (remember, I got your inquiry via THE INTERNET)  

I really seem to have hit a nerve with that last song I posted.  I was going to play it at an open mike night last night, but decided that it would be too hard to play.  Instead, I played two songs I wrote in the Summer of 2015 about another really bad deal I found myself having to negotiate my way through, and those two songs were hard enough to perform in and of themselves.

The post from 8/30/2016, "Maybe that won't work anymore," talks about people who were really, really misguided in their efforts to help me.  I guess they thought they were playing to my level.  I got news folks, my level is not too different from everyone else's level, and maybe because of my mental illness, people may really want to think twice or three times about playing to a level that may be "normal" for "normal" people, if there is such a thing.

I thought that song was pretty funny, and I thought that the person it was directed towards would find it cute and funny as well.  Boy, that just shows how viable an art form songwriting can be, because I managed to get at something I didn't realize I was getting at.  If I never meet this person in real life, it'd be okay.  If this person has any sense at all, they'll see that song as the writing on the wall and just "ve te la chinga."  I would never do anything to hurt this person or do damage to the path they are on in life, and they'll just have to trust me on that, because I ain't about to sign any documents to that effect. 

I wrote some songs last December when this woman in my world threw me a little bone of flirtation.  I like the songs, and even though nothing ever came of that, it's not as if I'm scarred by the fact that nothing ever came of that.  With that in mind....

I’m Sorry
 Intro: G, Em, D, C
Body of song: D, C, G, B7
Strumming patterns, intro and outro: B↓B↓
Body of song: B↓↑B↓

Intro:
G
Sorry to break the bad news folks
                 Em
I’ve got another turd for the pile
       D
I’ll try to sound tough like Johnny Cash
               C                             C
But ya’ might want to take a while.

G
To go for a crap or take a pee
               Em
Maybe step out for a smoke
         D
Maybe hit yourself in the head with a hammer
            C                         G
Then take a murderous toke.

Body:
     D
If love were a punch to the gut
              C
I’d be suckin’ for oxygen
     G
If love were just a silly notion
             B7
I’d be four months in the bin.

       
D
Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that thin thin line
    C
I’m pretty sure that’s not true
       G
But if love were a backed up sewer line
             B7 
I’d be eyeball deep in poo.

Well a lot of people have a lot of court dates 
Over what we’re goin’ through
Many gold bands in a lot of pawnshops
For the sake of the truest true.

If love were a cycle men went through 
I’d be four months on the rag
My cup runneth over Kukichiyo
Someone bring me my sickbag.

If love were a bad name for a band
I’d call ours Hoobastank
If love showed up as hemorrhoids 
Oh baby I’d have you to thank.

    D
A guy like Shakespeare would write a sonnet
             C
Sweet music for an ancient ear
    G
I promise you baby I’ll get right on it
                   B7    (flourish)              D
But now my thumb is stuck up my rear.

B↓B↓
D                                              
I said my thumb is totally stuck 
C             G
Up, my, rear.


Richy Vegas 4/23/2017

I worked a little longer on my page layouts than I'd planned.  I can tell that I'm getting obsessive about this project, and that only bad health or similar calamitous misfortune will now stand in the way of myself getting well into it in the coming months and years.  I wasn't in graduate school at the School of Visual Arts before anyone talked to me about how obsession in any context whatsoever could possibly, actually be a good thing.  I always thought of it as a bad thing because I always associated it with my deal with women.  I actually have to force myself to wind it down at the end of a night such as this, or I can find myself turning over and over in my head  just how productive I can make myself be over a given period of time.

I sent off a box of books to an online comics distributor this past week.  He contacted me on Sunday about it.  God, if I could put a dent in my inventory through his site, that'd be great.  As soon as he posts the books, I'll include a link.  I think he calls his outfit Domino Distributors, although I don't have the URL handy right now.

I've got my home studio set up.   I can do recordings of songs for my next album to see about all kinds of things; how well or badly I play them, which guitars works best for which songs, putting a rhythm loop together to practice the solo for "Blo-hole Acres," to see if I really need to book studio time at all etc.

Welp, that's about all for this week,  

I finished the sketchbook layout of "Legend.." pt. 1 today.  I hope to work on the second sketchbook tomorrow and see how much i can do by Sunday.  I haven't worked as much on the book this month as I would like.  I've been busy with music. 

I have the songs from Self Portrait of Me memorized.  I have to fine tune a little on the chord memorization on the two segue way tracks.  I have "Three Days In the Tickle" memorized.  That's the song about the girl in the middle image at the top of this page.

I've been playing out at open mic nights and Songwriters Circle this past week.  San Marcos went well.  I managed to get through the intro to "Johnny Cash You Devil" without having to abort the mission.

Around July of last year, I talked about a big secret to how I am able to negotiate the thorny issue of a romantic fixation on an individual woman.  I said that a big-time secret was, if one were to find one in the midst of a romantic fixation, was to refrain from casting about amongst the women in one's world for another love interest.  

Think about it.  Whenever I would attempt to find another love interest to take the place of the woman I found myself fixated on, that was precisely the problem: that one should be careful what one asks for, because one just might get it-another person to TAKE THE PLACE of someone that one feels a great deal of discomfort being fixated on.  Take it from one who knows, that is no solution AT ALL.  

It is analogous to thrashing around helplessly in a straitjacket.   It doesn't matter whom you are fixated on, do not look for a replacement.  Do not attempt to move on to bigger and better things.  If what one is experiencing really is an utterly meaningless fixation, the center of gravity will not hold-even if one sees no current end in sight.  I am not fixated on even the 2016 model anymore, much less the 1984, 1985, 1986 models.

So ladies in my world, I'm giving you a break on this one; just like I gave everyone else a break on the 2014, 2015, and 2016 models.  Everyone is off the hook.  

I just finished a little work on my latest project for my comics.  It marked the start of the transfer of the notes to the sketch book pages.  I did the first ten pages.  I figure that if I put in fourteen or fifteen days this month, I could finish this process plus possibly get started on the text on the plates themselves.  I gave myself a generous allotment of three whole months to get this project off of the ground.  By the end of May, the Good Lord willing and the creeks don't rise, I will have a really good start on "The Legend of Richy Vegas."

I hope to be almost ready to go into the studio to record Self Portrait of Me by the end of May as well.  I hope to start on the home studio demos this month.  I sounded pretty good at my lesson today.  I will try the sounds of the all three guitars to find out which guitar best matches which song.

My trip to NYC went pretty well.  I don't understand why the MoCCA fest was in the venue it was in for the second year in a row.  I went for about ten or fifteen minutes and got the hell out because it was so crowded and stuffy and claustrophobic in there.  I can only think that the organizers had signed some sort of contract that obliged them to hold it there for two years in a row.  If it's in the same venue next year, forget about me applying for a table.

Yesterday morning I got paranoid, for whatever reason, that I would be trolled for the stuff I write about on this site.  This happened Sunday morning, so I looked at both inboxes, and nada.  I am forever fated to be totally obscure and unknown to the world at large.  I probably would prefer it that way.

I'm letting go of someone that I regularly write about in this space. "Letting go" consists of trying to refrain from writing about this person in this space.  I bear this person no ill feelings, or ill will, or none of that-quite the opposite.  I just figure that I've accomplished all that I can accomplish by writing about this person on this blog.  I said months ago that I eventually feel compelled to let go of these deals at some point and try to move on to whatever is next.  Next will consist of trying to just make hay where I can.

This time last year I let go of someone who had a real credibility problem that she never bounced back from.  Whatever one may say about this person whom I refer to now, she doesn't seem to have that same problem, it's just that I don't really know her.

Usually when I let go of someone, that's the last I hear from them.  I remember hearing a snippet of some awful contemporary Nashville song about how the sensitive country guy has to let go of the girl and when the sensitive country guy lets go of the girl, she'll for sure come back and hug him up, and kiss him up, and love him up, but good, good, good.  I don't know if that is what the sensitive-country-guy-song really said, but at any rate, I always let go when the current deal is not going to work for me.  Most of the time, the reason the current deal doesn't work for me in those situations is because no deal would ever work with that person under any circumstances.

I'm not saying that's the case with this person.  I hope that is definitely not the case, actually.  One time I let go of someone only to hear from her a year and a half later and have her kick me down her body for one night.  So it's not as if I always, always never hear from these women I feel so compelled to let go of.  I just hope that I mean more to this person that to not hear from her for a year and a half, or longer, or never.  But, who knows?