Onions Versus Cheese..a retrospective volume 1
My NJ to TN retrospective..
Where do I begin?
A background..
I lived in NJ for about 30 years and 10 months and a week.
I went to a Christian School for 13 years.
I spent a few years wasting time smoking pot, drinking, and hanging out at diners with friends [that really didn't care bout me at all].
In jan-feb 2003, one of my best friends died. His name was Jonathan Leonardo Pantalione. The band Portishead encrypted his name into their self titled album with imagery, and we figured this out a couple months before he died. There's an address on the album NYC that he was making his way towards after he learned that he was dying of lung cancer. He was living in halfway houses after his parents rejected him in his deepest time of need.
I don't really want to get into what hypocritical bastards I think his parents were for throwing such a nice funeral and reception for him.. but hey.
Anyway, right before his death I met someone who I thought was really cool. She seemed to have all these things in common with me, but really I think she was just a mystic and I was probably projecting my love for him onto her. She turned out to be a real bastard.
She made this beautiful abstract painting for him one night with rich crimson oil paint and dripping turpentine. then, like the asshole she truly is--she wrote in big black letters all over it how he killed himself.
You see he may have taken some pills the night he died, or he may have just passed away naturally. I may never know. But she took it upon herself to do this and I think it was a slap in the face to him, as an artist himself. He was more talented than her, and he even wrote and composed music everyday. So, months later--against everyone's wishes I shmoozed with her and got her to give me the painting so I could "add to it". She realized that she had been tricked and actually sent someone to come to my house and retrieve the painting before I could finish it. I told that person to go fuck themselves and finished it at my leisure. This whole ordeal caused this whole unnecessary ordeal between me and my ex. Blah, blah, blah. I did what I had to do to respect my fucking friend.
Anyway, so I finally painted over the words with black paint and cut out some pictures I'd taken on a digital camera and stuck it on their haphazardly with white out. Months of deliberation and turmoil ended in a few short strokes of brilliance. Eventually even the asshole liked it and feigned understanding--yeah, thanks for nothing.
My home town of Millville, NJ had this art thing downtown every third Friday of the month. Well, when I brought it there to be displayed, these two people, obviously too trendy to be from Millville [they were definitely from NYC], came and looked at he painting; they really sat and studied it. I knew who they were immediately. Jon had claimed to be visited by strange people in a local mental hospital around December of 2002. The people I saw were exactly as he had described them. He really wasn't that crazy, he just needed a safe place for a couple weeks at one point. One day soon I am going to have to return and see what this was all about...
Where I came from is filled with some pretty callous and unfriendly people. That's the main reason I moved down to the Smokey Mts. it's also incredibly cheap to live. I still deal with a good amount of bullshit..but I have definite plans to break free from all that as well.
I have intentions of continuing this retrospective until I feel it is complete..tomorrow look for the events directly leading up to my departure...Until then. be well.
Where do I begin?
A background..
I lived in NJ for about 30 years and 10 months and a week.
I went to a Christian School for 13 years.
I spent a few years wasting time smoking pot, drinking, and hanging out at diners with friends [that really didn't care bout me at all].
In jan-feb 2003, one of my best friends died. His name was Jonathan Leonardo Pantalione. The band Portishead encrypted his name into their self titled album with imagery, and we figured this out a couple months before he died. There's an address on the album NYC that he was making his way towards after he learned that he was dying of lung cancer. He was living in halfway houses after his parents rejected him in his deepest time of need.
I don't really want to get into what hypocritical bastards I think his parents were for throwing such a nice funeral and reception for him.. but hey.
Anyway, right before his death I met someone who I thought was really cool. She seemed to have all these things in common with me, but really I think she was just a mystic and I was probably projecting my love for him onto her. She turned out to be a real bastard.
She made this beautiful abstract painting for him one night with rich crimson oil paint and dripping turpentine. then, like the asshole she truly is--she wrote in big black letters all over it how he killed himself.
You see he may have taken some pills the night he died, or he may have just passed away naturally. I may never know. But she took it upon herself to do this and I think it was a slap in the face to him, as an artist himself. He was more talented than her, and he even wrote and composed music everyday. So, months later--against everyone's wishes I shmoozed with her and got her to give me the painting so I could "add to it". She realized that she had been tricked and actually sent someone to come to my house and retrieve the painting before I could finish it. I told that person to go fuck themselves and finished it at my leisure. This whole ordeal caused this whole unnecessary ordeal between me and my ex. Blah, blah, blah. I did what I had to do to respect my fucking friend.
Anyway, so I finally painted over the words with black paint and cut out some pictures I'd taken on a digital camera and stuck it on their haphazardly with white out. Months of deliberation and turmoil ended in a few short strokes of brilliance. Eventually even the asshole liked it and feigned understanding--yeah, thanks for nothing.
My home town of Millville, NJ had this art thing downtown every third Friday of the month. Well, when I brought it there to be displayed, these two people, obviously too trendy to be from Millville [they were definitely from NYC], came and looked at he painting; they really sat and studied it. I knew who they were immediately. Jon had claimed to be visited by strange people in a local mental hospital around December of 2002. The people I saw were exactly as he had described them. He really wasn't that crazy, he just needed a safe place for a couple weeks at one point. One day soon I am going to have to return and see what this was all about...
Where I came from is filled with some pretty callous and unfriendly people. That's the main reason I moved down to the Smokey Mts. it's also incredibly cheap to live. I still deal with a good amount of bullshit..but I have definite plans to break free from all that as well.
I have intentions of continuing this retrospective until I feel it is complete..tomorrow look for the events directly leading up to my departure...Until then. be well.