Tuesday, January 5, 2010

"Evil. Pookie."

I was chatting via Skype with a friend of mine and he said something smart, so I wrote the word "EVIL" and held it up to the cam. Later on in the same conversation, I flipped the sketchpad over and wrote "POOKIE." Today I decided to use the page for an impromptu sketch.

When I was young, I drew lots of monsters. I'm good at them. This is probably the first one I've done in ages. Some psychologist somewhere will probably make a big deal about how much bigger the EVIL monster is bigger than the big-eyed POOKIE surrounded by little hearts. EVIL eats POOKIE as we all know, and that's the way the sketch turned out. That's the way it is in real life.

I also have to remark how odd it is to sign these drawings with the initials "CS." But it goes with making Calamari the guise under which I'm conducting this experiment. It just occurred to me that an experiment in secrets and truth under a pseudonym is possibly ironic.

Please note that this is the first time I have ever claimed irony. That's my true thing for the day.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Hello World!

Welcome to my latest experiment. We'll see how long this one lasts. In my other online journal today I talked about secrets and truth. This is where I intend to conduct most of my research, post my sketches and tell my true secrets. Not all at once. I don't think I'm brave enough for that.

Over the course of my life, I've told a lot of secrets to a lot of people. But mostly, none of those people are around any more. I've thought about what it would mean to keep those secrets all in one book and what that book would be. It would be like the portrait of Dorian Gray -- ever showing my corruption and evil while nothing happens to me. Except that it wouldn't be a work of art to caress. It would be the icon of my awfulness.

Oh, I paint myself as horrible, I know. One of my secrets -- one that I told recently to my best friend -- is that I have to be "on" all the time. I have to be ever aware of who I'm with, what I'm doing, what I say. Most of my peers think that I'm a pretty nifty fellow. They might be wrong.

You see, they don't know me. No one knows me anymore. No one has known me since I can remember.

I don't talk a lot anymore. If you pay attention, you'll see that I stop talking if I'm not holding the conch. You'll see that I eventually walk away. It's not that I don't want to be there participating. It's that I've learned when it's a good idea to hush and be absent.

I'm far too large to be invisible, but I can be silent. And I can listen. I don't miss a word. Maybe that's why no one stays around me for very long. It's because I listen to what people say. And you know what? They tell me their secrets.

They don't even know they're doing it.