Tuesday, February 23, 2021

coffee girl

 

How To Be An Artist


your life has meaning
your life has purpose
simply because you exist

This was from Will Ross1, and for me this solved the typical artists over-concern and cognitive distortion that your work has value, or meaning due to some external condition. Such as sales or publication or some such nonsense that defines your ‘goodness’ as an artist. Albert Ellis2 in his book The Myth of Self Esteem laid this out for me in way that was elegant and simple: the purpose of life is satisfaction, throw the notion of self esteem in the garbage and pursue satisfaction.

Alan Dunning3 my influence at Art School taught me that people can be talked into buying anything, and they will, this has nothing to do with art, this has to do with salesmanship.

But my kid needs to make a living, parents would complain when I started teaching art. So get him trained as an accountant as well, it’s a good living, take it anywhere, making a living is easy, making art is having a life for an artist. Anything less is conditional acceptance of your kid, child abuse by definition. You say I abuse my kid? Abandonment is the most common abuse, so when you force her away from her dreams, to fit your ideal of security, yes that’s child abuse. You have said your kid can’t handle life and given them a lifetime of anxiety. By this time the parents were long past listening and the Art School suggested I teach adults instead, exorcising Bob Ross, the creature rather than dealing with the dereliction of children by right wing oil magnates.

Reading the Paris Review4 interview with George Saunders he speaks of how as a child his parents gave him unconditional love (they didn’t) as the only way to get attention (love) was by being popular, extroverted and funny. We introverts are often therefore lonely forlorn and abandoned by ourselves because we haven’t learned to value ourselves for ourselves because no one else does.

So he made a career of being popular and liked and funny. And gave himself lifelong anxiety lest he should ever fail to be published or popular or a good provider. Having 10 framed photographs of Buddhist teachers around him when he worked, an old and popular distraction from anxiety. Not a cure though, one needs unconditional self acceptance for that.

I met a woman yesterday, working as a clerk in a grocery I was at, and we chatted. Her kid got a degree in painting and just got a masters in fine art, and Mom approaching retirement, is working in a grocery store helping to make this possible because it satisfys her.

I like her a lot.


 

Saturday, February 20, 2021

 

salvidor & gala

The Day Painting Died

‘You wouldn’t know art if you saw it.’ This was the opening statement from 1David my art theory prof, hired I suspect because he was fashionably a token 2Métis with a degree who made pop art, cartoon copies on cheap warped canvas supports, you know the type, a stylized woman with a giant tear proclaiming in her speech bubble her lost love. Thinly painted flat graphics dead dried-down lifeless. Horribly insecure and hostile little man dressed in fashionable artists black.
Abusive crits were his specialty, especially to me, a white man adult student older and taller than him who formerly slept with Sylvia3, his now wife, where we had explored our love of bisexual women together at the local gay club until she embarrassedly said she suspected giving me an indiscrete Saturday night social disease (my personal relationship deal breaker), now upgrading my credential. I suspect a penis sized insecurity as well.
I know art when I feel it, was my perfectly valid non intellectual, non art theory response. I often leak tears in front of art. I cry at movies and weddings as well.
Tell me, he scoffed, what is your ‘work’ about. ‘It is about paint, the beauty of paint, the sensuousness of the medium. I have studied 4Picasso’s paintings, still looking as fresh and wet as the day they were painted and none of the supports were warped at all. I was totally seduced and became a painter’
’Where is your artists statement!’, he rightfully demanded almost screaming.
’Picasso didn’t have one so I don’t have to have one either.’ Perfectly valid response, quoting an influence who thereby bestows permissions. My big brothers and sisters of the art world protecting me in perpetuity.
He turned 50 shades of grey. I feared apoplexy.
Picasso was/is out of favour with the aspiring intellectual postmodern theorists at my 5art school, Alberta University of the Arts. They used the cognitive distortion (lie) that he caused the suicide of 2 of his lovers, as if anyone can cause their abuse by others. Suicide is complicated but it is often an abuse towards the universe/others that ‘did them wrong’. I felt that Picasso had poor taste in partners and shitty luck with women, was easily flattered and love bombed by narcissist muses, much like 6Salvador Dalí and his horrible wife 7Gala who made him book an appointment to visit. In 1968, Dalí bought Gala the Castle of Púbol, Girona, where she would spend time every summer from 1971 to 1980. He also agreed not to visit there without getting advance permission from her in writing.
’Hang on a sec I have to turn the tape over’, I said.
’You are recording this?’
’We record all our crits in studio in the painting department. We even record our self talk as we paint, an exercise in awareness of what we are about. An aid to memory.’
Of course this wasn’t true that we did this or that the tape was set to record, but adult students in a one on one crit with a prof who is known for his brutal abusiveness who had slept with the insecure creatures’ now formerly sketchy wife needed some protection.
Bullies are cowards and standing up to them is always in my best interests.
The creature summarily left, I received a A for the crit, thus pushing me onto the honour roll.
David went on to publish papers, I heard, on how a painting couldn’t be ‘about paint’. I guess he showed me…
My advisor, 8Alan Dunning, a genuine intellectual from Britain who can switch effortlessly from the language of thinking to the language of feeling, suggested I read 9Rosalind E. Krauss, a postmodernist theorist at Columbia University in New York City who said “... photography is an imprint or transfer off the real; it is a photochemically processed trace causally connected to the thing in the world to which it refers in a manner parallel to fingerprints or footprints or the rings of water that cold glasses leave on tables. The photograph is thus generically distinct from painting or sculpture or drawing. On the family tree of images it is closer to palm prints, death masks, the Shroud of Turin, or the tracks of gulls on beaches10.” I was smitten.
Charmed, I finished my degree in painting, bought a digital camera and a photoshop computer, updated again to a degree in digital goings ons, gathered up my painter brothers and sisters and never looked back, the sum of my influences even the shitty abusive ones.

Wednesday, February 17, 2021

 

At Age 20

A life of working for conservatives in Alberta Canada


I enjoyed a career in logistics for 20 years
worked for conservatives Enders family in Calgary doing what I loved and was good at underpaid not able to save they got rich second home in Canmore
rented from conservative landlord apartments overcharged in boom Calgary
land owners got rich bought more houses
no savings again
so between jobs waiting for Unemployment Insurance
hit the food bank
didn’t pay rent
got a student loan to upgrade education to upgrade income
lived in my new wife’s house paid for by conservative farmer father who got rich on fed government subsidies
started an art business in house after school upgrade
fell into bankruptcy when American conservatives bought out my suppliers and refused to supply my home based low expense business as unfair competition to their storefront conservative base
wife died after 10 year decline
brain disease
I fell into depression couldn’t work too ill
second bankruptcy to pay student loans
after hospitalized successful depression/anxiety therapy
started delivery contract business delivering meds to patients
not enough income to save again
but conservative broker who spends winter at his second home in Phoenix is doing fine
patients’ dementia dog bit my finger partially off, suffered pinched nerve & pulled muscle from lifting and then stroke, involved in 2 studies for people who have strokes for no known reason
so much for victim blaming moralizing
lived on assured income for severely handicapped after 6 months in hospital
homeless single man
turned 65 got universal basic income for seniors
dental
and pharmacy
living just above poverty line for the first time in my entire life
I now have a savings account
conservatives say I should have managed my money better while they enjoy government subsidies to get them over their lean times.
people working living below poverty line are
world class money managers
with no subsidies for their lean times
I advocate so all working poor folks can enjoy that security for their lean times too
and pharmacare
and dental
and insurance
and tuition
like other civilizations which choose not to have their economies based on brutal low paying formerly non paying slave labour
This is what the fight in North America has been all about since Lincoln to now Trump, an ongoing civil war funded by the slave owners conservatives and their descendants.
It’s just that simple
Here is your pandemic update:


 















Wet Cleanup in The Men's or Why I Refuse to Shop at Costco

it all started, as the best things do, on the damn internet

Lorenzo Lotto, “Venus and Cupid,” 1525.Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 

My friend, whom I love dearly, posted, why do men shake the gas hose at the pump? Obviously, my gay woman friend who posted this was having fun placing her tongue in her own cheek, for a change.
She’s a riot and loves to bait and encourage mansplainers who kneejerk react and have yet to figure her out.
These towering intellects explained with all kinds of obvious innuendo about circumcised penis cleansing procedures that they follow, following urination, because their Moms taught them during toilet training, I suppose.
Moms, being not great authorities on the penis, have been taught, usually by priests who are great authorities on boy’s penises, that babies must be circumcised or the future penis can’t be cleaned and gets infected. This is for the convenience of the oral satisfaction of the priest, I assume.
So, Moms sexually mutilate their little boys in that it is more convenient to shake the remaining urine drops instead of actually handling the offending member and use hygienic procedures.
This could lead to potential Onanistic spilling of seed as if everything didn’t lead to Onanistic spilling of seed and must be controlled by religion which also controls female masturbatiuon through clitoral amputation given half the chance.
The problem is that urine remains in the urethra (?) and leaks into the circumcised male underwear so that he is ‘running the world’ sitting in his own urine soaked mess.
As it were.
And is.
This explains why a pandemic virus is mutating and reinfecting conservatives.
The thought of grabbing a tissue and squeezing the remaining urine out of the penis and disposing of the tissue has never occured to men. There is no tissue at the public urinal. Or ‘hand’ sanitizer in the more private toilets where it used to cost a dime to defecate, and the practise is now returning in the more conservative owned establishments.
Conservatives love to control bathroom procedures due to cost saving profit increasing. Two squares of the thinnest paper from Costco is all you get to clean your rectum and the dispenser is on a lock down timer. No second chance for you screams the mechanical toilet nazi. Conservatives don’t care that you are now sitting in feces and urine, costs have been saved at Costco.
So men, out of force of habit, shake the gas pump mindlessly and women look at this and shake their heads in wonder, contemplating the urine deposited into the home environment that some conservative women are still forced to clean in exchange for food and shelter for her and the kids. Now this idiot is shaking volatile fire accelerant all over his car.
One woman, back on the net, responded that she didn’t want some old sketchy gas left in the hose from the last user. I said if she was referring to an oral sex act with a penis I completely understood, but gas is the best cleanser in the world.
I was summarily blocked of course.
Back in the bathroom, the mental giant moron conservative, shakes his penis, urine spreading hither and yon, stuffs it into his filthy underwear, avoids the hand washing sink, heads to the door, seeing me in a wheelchair goes to grab my equipment to assist me out the door, like a Christian.
Shocked and surprised to hear ‘keep your fecal covered hands away from me’, they storm out into the restaurant to have finger food, plying narcissists charm to the conquest du jour.
I received a complaint from one of these conservative moral midgets (I live in Calgary, we are battling an infestation of them currently) that his conquest du jour had left in the night with his laptop.
Ya dude but you just gave her your herpes virus because you don’t wash, not really a fair trade.
I await his response.

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Love is Not an Adult Human Need

 Love is not an adult human need


Unconditional acceptance is love
of yourself
without it you will depress and suicide
unconditional acceptance is love
of others
of the universe
but
they are self sustaining
this is
for you
Children NEED love
Adults GIVE love
Grow the fuck up

Thursday, February 4, 2021

The Mustard Seed Calgary - Google Review

In hospital with a stroke for 6 months, my things in storage, my apt. up 4 flights of stairs now inaccessible, no longer have a job, or an income, or a car, overnight I became a homeless single male with no family to speak of. Social work sent me to the mustard seed to look at a 400 sq foot apt for 1200 a month not including anything, not allowed my own furnishings, my comforts of home or my cat. Assured income for the severely handicapped =1600 a month. I asked what do I do for food? Oh we have a food bank... Found a roommate, a 2 bedroom 2 bath washer dryer dishwasher fully accessible with elevator and indoor parking 1600 for both of us. During the interview the mustard seed didn't even offer me a chair. These are awful people living off the homeless. This is why I now am a Liberal atheist advocate of UBI. Get this abusive place shut down as soon as possible.

Tuesday, February 2, 2021

Of Prison and Art



High frustration tolerance is something everyone becoming an adult needs to develop, short term pain for long term gain


'To those of us living with stress and frustration during COVID-19 restrictions, these artists demonstrate how to develop an inner space of freedom – and how to live imaginatively and purposefully in a strange new world.' - What we can learn about isolation from prison artists - Janie Paul Professor Emerita of Art and Design, University of Michigan - published in The Conversation newsletter.


The other word for stress is fear, usually stemming from the notion life is terrible and awful and I can't stand it, which means I will die from it. Evidence based psychology suggests you aren't dead so you have been standing it, you are standing it, so you will stand it. The debilitating discomfort anxiety then stems from low frustration tolerance is a choice, high frustration tolerance is something everyone becoming an adult needs to develop, short term pain for long term gain.


Comparing quarantine where you stay home and chill to prison experience, where murder and rape are around every corner is a bit of a stretch, but the terribleizing and awfulizing it can feel the same, the terror of anxiety whether the cause is real or imagined is still terror.


In my anthro class we were shown that monkeys incarcerated, raised in lab cages, used repetitive behavior to distract from that terror, they masturbated repeatedly.


Religious folks are those trained to live in fear and shame & obligation, its called F.O.G., (it’s also how narcissists manipulate others) then use repetitive behavior to distract from their induced programmed over-anxiety, prayer, chanting what have you.


Yoga it turns out is also a distraction but not a cure and the relief from over-anxiety (terror) can be so profound it is called a spiritual experience. Some, often intelligent and educated, then dedicate their lives to this distraction, even signing over their houses and their bodies to the cult, the cult of fear creation and distraction.


When I was an addictions counsellor at the local jail using REBT (rational emotive behavioral therapy) I noticed many folks there were 'good' at art making, at the time I thought painstaking realistic drawing was art and that it was good, not just repetitive behaviour, the distraction therapy of art therapy.


When I started a formal art school career I learned that anyone can draw and in 6 months all the students were able to achieve a high level of realism, due to the practice demanded from the heavy work load.


Hitler, it is said, bounced all the artists out of Germany that weren’t realists, fear based conservatives love realism, but perhaps that’s an urban myth as compelling as it is.


So when I went back to the jail art, after art school, I looked for such things as the beauty of the hand made mark, subtlety, elegance or even accurate rendering from observation to no avail. I found instead renderings that reminded of the stained bedsheets of the residue of masturbating teenage boys, evidence of a untreated disease process.


When Ms. Paul talks about imagination and purpose, well we all have an imagination, its our evolutionary birthright, we couldn’t have survived the jungle (using anxiety) without it, let alone cross the street.


The purpose of life as the religious folks like call it, is a trap, its like self esteem, if you have it you can lose it, then you are depressed and anxious. Better to take the elegant solution that Dr. Ellis in his book The Myth of Self Esteem prescribes, dump the entire notion and focus on something more satisfying, the purpose of life is satisfaction.


I recently put this to the test, after losing an arm and a leg, using his advice, do every thing you can to deal with it, then ignore it and focus on something more satisfying. The physiatrists at the hospital wanted to know why I wasn’t over-depressed and over-anxious without drugs, they had no experience with psychotherapy being simple elegant and effective, too much Jung and Freud perhaps.


What I didn’t do was change my art practice to something repetitive and self distracting. How often have I seen this rubber stamp ‘art’ in the gallery, seen one seen them all, nothing compelling, cruise the entire exhibition in five minutes, Yawn.


So I kind of resent these poor incarcerated people, like masturbating monkey’s in a cage, being presented as something more than society’s disease process. Like religion and cults or even the rites of passage of art and academia where I see the bars of self imposed incarceration but I see no evidence of higher purpose, for it is a concept used to sell stuff, like very expensive art or religious trappings, a used car salesman’s scam taking advantage of the ill and vulnerable to sell to the morbidly self righteous.



Last Year 2020

I’m Sure Your Nipples Are Lovely

I have the right, as a slave, to hurt the slave owner, by being free.

Dec 23, 2020


This is why brick and mortar art galleries hate me, I give as much validity/value to digital artwork as painted/printed artwork. It’s not the canvas and the glue that sticks the pigments on whatever surface that are valuable, or even the mind that conceived the work. Anyone can make art, simply have a high tolerance of frustration and you can succeed at anything. It’s not even physically challenging, you are not like an Olympic athlete hopped up on performance enhancing drugs doing tricks for multi billionaire sponsors to enjoy.


Modern art, my second education in art, the first was old masters technique and materials, the third was formal education for 6 years at a postmodern school, claimed modern art to be a religious/spiritual experience, the critic (Greenburg) as shaman interpreting the natural world, the artist as mere stupid craftsman, much like a religion instead of science and the gallery as the temple. Today, still, to become a professional art worker there are rites of passage similar to the monastery.


The gallery I worked in got 20 visitors a month, to any artists show, in a year on Flikr alone I get 2 million. In a gallery as part of a stable of artists competing for a show providing my own framing and customers, usually friends and family, the richer the better, I am treated as little more than a slave by the gatekeepers of the artworld.


The business owners/gallerists treat art on the web as a tease, if you want to see my nipples, you have to come to the brick and mortar ‘real’ store where 70% of their income is derived by picture framing. Treating artists like a common grifter street whore, conning, hooking customers for them. Dressing up this sleaze with the trappings of sophistication and elegance. I prefer to be an honest sex artworker not a prostituted one.


The Christian conservative slaveowners that currently are in power in my little backwater of a province manipulate with guilt, obligation and fear as all narcissists do, in this case shaming those of us that buy on the internet, during a pandemic, supposedly causing their funders, store owners, to go broke, bastards that we are, avoiding malls, to stay alive.


My web page has no advertisers, my blog is funded by subscription, my framer/printer charges a fair price for a valid internet service. I sincerely wish every gallery to go broke like any slave owner, the slaves hurt the slave owner by being free.


I’m sure your nipples are lovely, but I don’t don’t need to drive to Texas to pay to see them, that’s not erotic art, that is sex work, titillations for religious conservatives and I am not in the market.


Hope and Promise are Choices

Narcissist’s and religion manipulate by withholding sex...

Dec 20, 2020


Rationally, in 2020, I look at Goya’s painting, The Nude Maja ([1] (Spanish: La maja desnuda[la ˈmaxa ðezˈnuða] is a name given to a c. 1797–1800 oil on canvas painting by the Spanish artist Francisco Goya ) and initially I see the flush of the models’ sexual excitement and project on her the hope and promise of her satisfactions: sexual, bonding, children perhaps or monetary as a sex worker, all the satisfaction of employment doing perhaps a job she loves and is good at as a model. The direct look that knows exactly what you are about, and is OK with it.


The word maja is the feminine form of majo, a low class Spaniard of the 18th and 19th century. So her background is similar to mine, raised in poverty, deprived of money as a satisfaction, you learn to seek it in other ways. I have seen her look many many times, whether in models posing at art school, or lovers having fun on Saturday night.


On occasion I have seen it on narcissist girlfriends where I have been entrapped though lies, promises of love and empathy, just before they deny sex. Narcissist’s manipulate by withholding sex. As does religion of all flavours with similar lies and false promises.


Goya and I are romantics, outraged by the illiberal goings-on’s of the conservative institutions of our times. It is said that the leader of Spain was hauled before the Catholic Inquisition for simply owning this work, kept in a closet, discovered by his political opponents.

Similar contrived outrage, slanders and controversy are routinely carried out in my country (Canada) by the morons of the conservative party who claim Jesus as their savior, while attacking the Liberals who ensure folks have food and rent during a pandemic.


In the provincial backwater where I live in an oil boom/bust town, the ruling moron party refused to implement/enforce meeting/mask restrictions during a pandemic so it could profit its corporate donors, killing thousands as a direct result and overwhelming the hospital system with the survivors. Red Cross field hospitals, ironically the M.A.S.H. units invented in China for Mao, by Bethune a Canadian Liberal surgeon, were called in. I don’t know where the bodies were kept, stacked in truck trailer reefers I imagine, mass graves and cremation having a prior history of poor optics.


So in the midst of abuse and murder for profit of the lower classes that has always gone on by bullies with money and influence I find my satisfactions are a choice, that hope is a choice, a personal responsibility to say, what good can I make of this, as painful, uncomfortable as inconveniencing as it is. This is the ancient psychological insight of Epictetus, who said, “What disturbs men’s minds is not events but their judgments on events.”


I have often found help from Ellis with this.


So I return to the models gaze and see an adult taking control of her choices, an adult with adult responsibilities. I often wonder at the patriarchal tyrants who continue to this day, 200 years later, to lose their shit over a woman, making decisions about her body and her enjoyment of it.


My Cat Wrote a Book

The Good Works Of The Honourable Pierre Poilievre PC MP by Buddhy the Buddha Cat All opinions presented are those of the author who is unavailable for comment since he is having a nap

Dec 8, 2020


Due to a lack of evidence based research in this area, please use the remaining space of 150 blank pages for speculation.


Print book on Amazon

eBook on Google Books,


the artist and his muse:

The Frasers Buy a Slave and Other White Nonsense on ‘Outlander’

Fascists are everywhere, they are the real pandemic virus.


Jerald Blackstock

Dec 6, 2020

I saw this headline on blackgirlnerds.com the blog whose author isn’t listed so I can’t credit her.

I’m Canadian, I’m sorry, as we Canadians say.

I see Americans on their popular culture television shows depicting the U.S.A as a crime scene where black people can’t catch a break, Fargo season 4, by the brilliant Noah Hawley, for example.

That’s it, T.V. was my exposure to race issues. I lived in a white Scottish heritage world, extremely conservative and protestant where everyone hates anyone not like them. I mean I grew up in that, until the oil business run by Nazis who had moved to Texas from Germany came to town. Then it got worse.

Overnight my little 20 car cab company community, my transitional needs job as an artist, made up of musicians, actors and painters, became a 500 car mega business run by Yellow cabs owned by Laidlaw, a garbage company in trouble with the law in New Jersey.

The Americans had come to oil boom town Calgary.

Suddenly, and I mean overnight, we now had immigrants, and not from white eastern Europe anymore, but folks with turbans and beards to drive our cabs, whose English was fine but if they didn’t like you, they didn’t speak it so good.

The Judeo-Christian morality of the ten commandments was out the window as well. I was cab dispatching at Yellow, and one Sikh driver named Sonny Brahr (I checked the spelling on Google and got this: Sikhs have a given name and one or both of a surname and a Khalsa name. The surname may be a family name or a caste name. Different castes still exist...), whom I really liked for his brilliant sense of humour, moved in with his girlfriend in the basement of his cousin’s house, all very Canadian.

The family sent home for a gent with a machine gun who murdered all 3 at the neighborhood Mac’s store.

I was taking a cab shortly after and the driver’s response to the event disturbed me as much as the loss of my friend. He said it was a good thing because they had gone against the wishes of the family. It was like when I asked a CSR from India at work on a date, she said “no the family wouldn’t like it. Have you ever seen a white guy with a woman from my culture?”

I was rejected because of my skin colour and culture for the first time. Usually, rejection was due to financial status, because my father was a coal miner who had the poor judgement to inconvenience Cominco mines by dying of lung cancer and embarrassing them about the safety of their workplace, throwing the remaining family on welfare in the 50’s. These southern Asian folks have been dealing with the British imperialism of white entitlement for centuries, having built Usually, up cultural and racial purity safeguards as strict as the Brits themselves, actually long before the Brits showed up with their superior army/navy tech. It even today includes gents with machine guns. And as Google reminds us, the caste system.

I was getting a pandemic haircut from my Persian non-religious hair lady and her out of work electrical engineer husband also from Iran, who complained the manicurist, they are mostly Vietnamese, wouldn’t come to work they were all lazy and stayed home and collected CERB our free government allowance to allow folks to stay home and avoid the Corona. I suggested, like I did to our Conservative member of Parliament who made the same complaint about minimum wage workers, that perhaps if they were offered well paying safe work, they would be happy to succeed in meeting their financial goals and aspirations, by coming to small business jobs.

Nope, those folks from other skin colour cultures are all lazy for not being enslaved to a minimum wage job and dying during a pandemic.

Really, having employees to put down, or renters for your properties to abuse by ignoring, is a conservative status symbol, much like the Frasers bought a slave, or a Ford or similar objects.

CERB is a testing of the waters for Universal Basic Income, getting folks used to the freedom from the indentured servitude. Folks can go to school and get better paying work, or stay home and raise kids, or paint, compose and write to create a Canadian culture, you know, have greater choices for satisfaction than to be some penny-pinching Calvinist Scot’s status symbol slave. Or American or Sikh or Iranian or Brit. Fascists are everywhere, they are the real pandemic virus.


Disintegrating Brakes

Imaginary interview between Stampede Toyota dealership and some representative from the press about my car:


Jerald Blackstock

Nov 23, 2020

Here is my latest post about paying a car dealership to do work, and I think they didn’t do it. It’s based on a youtube by 2 of my fav Australian commentators on current events.



Imaginary interview between Stampede Toyota dealership and some representative from the press about my car:

This Toyota where the brakes disintegrated from 70% to 0% in 10,000 km is not typical, I’d like to make that clear.

How is it untypical?

Well there is a lot of Toyotas where the brakes don’t disintegrate at all. I don’t want people thinking Toyotas aren’t safe.

Was this Toyota safe?

Well I was thinking more about the other ones.

The ones that are safe?

Ya the ones where the brakes don’t disintegrate at all.

Well if this wasn’t safe why was it on the road with people in it?

I’m not saying it wasn’t safe it was not quite as safe as some of the other ones.

Why?

Well some of them are inspected and serviced so the brakes don’t disintegrate at all.

Well wasn’t this one inspected and serviced?

Obviously not.

How do you know?

Well because the brakes rusted then disintegrated, it’s a dead giveaway, I’d like to make the point that it is not normal.

Well what sort of standards are these Toyotas built to?

Oh very rigorous Canadian engineering safety standards.

What sort of things?

Well the brakes aren’t supposed to rust off and disintegrate for starters.

What other things?

Well there are regulations governing what sort of material they can be made of.

What materials?

Well cardboard is out. No cardboard derivatives, no string, no scotch tape.

So the allegations that you just take the money and don’t service the vehicles is ludicrous?

Absolutely these are very very reliable brakes on these vehicles.

So what happened in this case?

Well the brakes disintegrated in this case but its very unusual.

Well why did the brakes rust out and disintegrate?

Well they got wet.

They got wet?

Yes they got wet.

Is that unusual?

In Canada? Chance in a million.


Apologies to Carke and Dawe


Why I’m launching The Duchy of Jerald Bloggery

And what you can do to support it right now


Jerald Blackstock

Nov 23, 2020


‘another fucking dickpic’ various sizes Blackstock ‘17



Dear friends


As you know, three years ago I had a ‘cerebral accident’. A random piece of plaque, that we all have floating around our innards, lungs and livers and things as Huckleberry Finn so eloquently put it, decided through an arbitrary act of ‘misfortune’ aka randomness, to pop a vein in my brain and took out the motor function on my right side.

Since then I have been blogging about this so-called traumatic life changing event. Writing, video and photo have turned into 5 books and the next one is on the way. (books2read.com/jer)

Dr. Albert Ellis the foremost psychologist of the last century said in his book, The Myth of Self Esteem, if you lose your arm do everything you can to deal with it, then ignore it and focus on something more satisfying.

So. I find doing this incredibly satisfying.

I find your response to my dealing with life using fine art, humour, digital fuckery and frank discussion a very fine conversation.

If you’ve already subscribed, THANK YOU, I hope you find this work as satisfying and challenging to experience as it is for me to create it.

The newsletter is free, intended to replace WordPress, which I hate for its lack of creative and artistic expression.

I earn income as an traditional artist from editioned prints and the books that these posts become so this gives you a taste, try before you buy, I hate paywalls. If its on the internet its free.


Enjoy

Jer



The Moron Mafia

jerald

Nov 20, 2020

“Let go and let God.” - The Moron Mafia™


Diana

jerald

Nov 17, 2020

she wore pecker purple everything


Thayre

jerald

Nov 17, 2020

I wonder if she’s pissed that she’s not in my book or that she is in my book,


She is not capable of emotional or physical intimacy, both require risk to build trust to be open a reasonable risk that is the spice of life.


Instead she plays her bdsm role over and over as I walked out the door.


The Voice of Experience

jerald

Nov 14, 2020

Sent a tweet off to our mayor today. After it snows, the rec centers are not plowed. The snow from the sidewalk is shoved into the handicapped parking, where the folks with walkers, canes and wheelchairs unload and are forced through the unplowed parking to the sidewalk, because the shortest route to the sidewalk is now blocked by the snow from the sidewalk.


At their peril.


Put-offs from CSR’s include


I hadn’t noticed (Thornhill)


It snowed (Killarny)


It keeps snowing (Thornhill)


It’s roads responsibility (Canyon Meadows)


Its arena staff responsibility (Thornhill)


I’ll make a note (Killarny)


I’ll let someone know (Canyon Meadows)


This is just a call centre (311)


Put-offs from the staff include


I’m not doing that (Killarny)


I’m a life guard (Killarny)


We come in a different entrance (Killarny)


Look at you funny (Canyon Meadows)


Stare at the screen (Thornhill)


Talk in soothing condescending tones as if to an upset child (Killarny)


Talk about the weather (Killarny)


I’ll speak to my staff (Killarny)


I’ll notify roads (311)


I’ll get some salt and gravel (Killarny)


The salt and gravel will damage the machines (Killarny)


This is the routine. Every time it snows. In Canada. In the winter.


This has been my experience for 3 years doing stroke recovery at the City’s gyms. I saw an elderly woman struggling with the snowy slippery access. I said, “Tell someone at the desk”. She said, “Oh they won’t do anything”. You know what? She’s right. The voice of experience.


Hope

jerald

Sep 23, 2020

50% of the time the coin lands heads


I don’t even have to hope


100% of the time I deal with it


We all have great skills at dealing with the unknown


https://www.flickr.com/photos/jerald_blackstock/50376311546/in/dateposted-public/


A Sense of Connection

jerald

Sep 19, 2020

Connection. Just assume it. Whether it is with your cat, a friend or a dead lover. Some people use an imaginary god. That’s why predatory religions (all) and cults seek vulnerable folks in transition and loss, to offer a sense of missing connection, for profit. The priests have to get paid somehow.


Some people use drugs to recreate the hormonal feel good response of a sense of connection.


Death is therefore like a drug withdrawal. If you are an orphan without connection resources, you have to create it for yourself. Then you are free of any dependance. This is deprogramming that churches hate. Independance that comes with freedom of choice.


Just assume a connection, especially with yourself and bypass the woo woo ripoff, dependency and programming and keep your cash.


https://youtu.be/Gzn1yWbNpRU


homage to cinema paradiso and its abandoned child


Hypervigilante

jerald

Sep 18, 2020

hypervigilence


hypervigilante


anxiety in


anxiety out


I don’t have to be vigilant hyperventilating


I highly prefer but I don’t have to is the key


I can’t have everything I want


The centre of the universe


Controlling shit


So I will be unafraid


what if what if what if ad nauseum


I have dealt with it


Well enough


For now...


Moi

jerald

Sep 17, 2020

Jerald trained formally as a painter at the Alberta College of Art and Design from 1992 to graduation in 1996 having three times achieved the President’s Honour Roll. He earned his BFA in 1998 from Alberta University of the Arts with a focus on digital art studies and a minor in creative writing. He holds a certificate in Adult Education from Mount Royal University. He taught for 10 years at AUArts, MRU, and long term care homes doing recreational therapy through art making.


Previously he studied drawing and painting privately under Gary Ripley at Grip Studios in Calgary, Alberta from 1972 till 1980 with a focus on the materials and techniques of the old masters.


His first career was as an addictions counsellor for Alberta Alcohol and Drug Abuse Commision where he was trained in REBT, Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy, developed by Dr. Albert Ellis the foremost psychologist of the last century.


Jerald’s publications draw heavily from the history and traditions of Western European fine art, street photo, digital fuckery and psychotherapy.


He currently lives in Calgary making art with his camera and computer, publishing his books under Blackstock Art&Design for The Duchy of Jerald.



Flipbooks@Issuu

Vids@Vimeo

purchase publications Google Books, Google Play, Apple Books, Smashwords, Amazon

Living in A Religious Conservative Society

jerald

Sep 12, 2020

My father, a coal miner in Alberta, Canada, died of lung cancer when I was 2, at age 40 in 1955. My mother raised 4 kids on welfare. Working class Albertans stood outside our house and yelled that we were living off them, living off the government hand out.


I once told Preston Manning that I was grateful to his hardhearted father Alberta Premier Ernest Manning, who preached Christianity every Sunday on the radio, for 20 something years in office, and his less than subsistence welfare policies for giving me deformed feet from a lack of proper footwear as I grew, and for making me a lifelong Liberal, who has long advocated for UBI.


Typical of folks with a less than secure income I learned to self medicate the corresponding anxiety with cigarettes, drugs and alcohol. By the time I was 40 I was a cab driver/contractor with a criminal record for drug possession, and lifelong anxiety and depression and a yoga cult survivor. I overcame these dependencies with free medical help from Healthcare, got a student loan and a couple of degrees and began teaching art on the contract model as well as practicing art therapy at long term care as a contractor.


This eventually led me into bankruptcy since being a consultant contractor is designed to benefit only the employer. When my wife died the income was reduced to my contractor income, I lost my house and my home based art studio and was left with only an old car. I used it to go driving courier, again as a contractor, and a second bankruptcy.


A few years later, owing 40,000 to predatory lenders and mechanics, for less than dependable vehicles to drive courier with I suffered a stroke was in hospital for almost a year and lost my home and car and cat, now considered a homeless single man with no income.


I turned 65 and qualified for essentially seniors UBI got myself a place and a vehicle and food every month to continue to do stroke recovery and practise my art, publishing 5 books since my release from hospital.


Would UBI have saved me from the underlying depression, anxiety, rage, embarrassment, shame, hurt, and jealousy from being at the mercy of religious conservative social policy when life throws its slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as it does to everyone? Of course not, it’s not psychotherapy.


It would allow me the security of living in a gig economy with guaranteed food and shelter, the ability to take time off to further education and perhaps get much needed psychotherapy. Alberta’s suicide rate is one of the highest in the country.


I have never had a vacation, or taken a trip, neither has any contract worker I know. I have never been able to afford to give a child the secure life I never had, so I didn’t have kids. Perhaps UBI might allow for that too...



A Figment Of My Imagination

jerald

Sep 2, 2020

I met a woman at a coffee shop, lovely chat, then a series of impromptu meeting chats, a trade of contact details, sent a request to get together for a future coffee-rant, then... nothing. No answer is an answer.


That woman appearing to be honest, open, unconditionally accepting didn’t exist.


I know that anyone I have met who has done a lot of yoga doesn’t unconditionally accept anything, particularly physically, they must, should, absolutely have to, be liked and accepted physically, or they see themselves as pieces of garbage. So what are the chances that they will have unconditional acceptance, without pity, of a guy recovering from a stroke? What are the chance they will unconditionally accept themselves?


What existed was someone who claimed to want to get together but really didn’t know how to say it wasn’t her cup of tea, or coffee as the case may be. Physical ‘perfection’ being a condition of the relationship deepening exercise, I imagine.


A woman recently said to me, Jerald, I don’t see you as handicapped at all, but she want to sell me new age woo woo products, seeking victims at the gym.


Some like to see themselves as good people, so they will condescend to chat with the handicapped, but really it is fascism, like a Hitlerian religion, good works must be done under strict conditions. I once joined a church and at Xmas time I asked several members if I could join them Xmas day, being a recent widower and a lifelong orphan, feeling vulnerable. Talk to strangers, asking for what you want being the assertive pillars of taking responsibility for getting needs met. All refused, including the minister. Travelling, was the usual put off of statistical improbability.


I absolutely must perform well and win the love or approval of significant others or else I am an inadequate and worthless person.


Is there any evidence that I am inadequate and worthless?


No, there is no evidence at all. Other peoples likes and dislikes only describe them.


I feel disappointed sad and annoyed, the consequences of being lied to. I will continue to talk to strangers and ask for what I want, rejection is part of life and becomes less painful the more I face it.



Narcissist Blues

jerald

Aug 10, 2020


the look when you find out your husband is fucking your best friend


My First Book Arrived

jerald

Aug 6, 2020

Arrived: my first print copy of my first book. When I had a stroke and ‘lost everything’ therapists said I needed recreational help, enrolled me at the seniors place to play shuffle board. There they asked me what I enjoyed and didn’t like my answer: lesbian porn. well, affection really, but I was kinda bitchy for a few years and I view seniors recreation programs as babysitting waiting for slow demise.


Anyway, I digress, again, I enrolled myself at the gym, hired a kinesiologist, took driving lessons, learned to drive with my left hand and foot, bought a car, learned left handed typing and photo, and adobe creative suite. 3 years and 5 books later, what good can I make of this has become the focus of my creative juices.


It is I believe the central question of all creative activity, all therapy, all life, since life is random as fuck and there is no predicting. joy/tragedy, hope/loss are the same goddamn thing, they come when they come but for sure they are coming, and we deal with both sides of the coin with great skill.


There is no purpose to life so I had better get off my ass and create some satisfaction. deal with my losses as best I can, then ignore them, forget my goddamn awful past as well, and focus on something more satisfying. If it is to be it is up to me.


Anyway my first printed copy of my first book arrived!


here is how it all works


REBT



google books

Ships Within

jerald

Aug 4, 2020

ships within


journeys


of


feelings


blown about


by the wind


of


the mind


I must have...

jerald

Jul 30, 2020

I am dealing with it


I have been dealing with it


So I will deal with it


Based on evidence


Putting up with discomfort is dealing with it


Being assertive and requesting change is dealing with it


Rejecting is dealing with it


Discomfort anxiety is a result of saying I can’t deal with it


a lie


a lie


a lie


3 times a lie


There is no evidence that I must...anything


Friday June 19, 2020

jerald

Jun 19, 2020

Another art book published yesterday. You can see them for free here or buy them at Apple iBooks, Google Books, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, ask your library to stock them as they are in their catalogues. Available worldwide, and people say, why don’t you show in a gallery? Because it’s 2020 ffs.



The Unpardonable Sin

jerald

Jun 18, 2020

The unpardonable sin. The everlasting wrong. Sobbing and sobbing, never to be consoled. - Patrick O’Brian, The Fortunes of War.


With these words I was reminded of ‘relationship’ with narcissists I’d known and chosen to trust.


And the consequences.


When it got to the part, as it eventually does, of asking for what you want, in relationship, I was no longer being ‘nice’.


I had been chosen for being a ‘nice guy’. One who does not have needs expressed, making the narcissist uncomfortable, for they have nothing to offer.


I mean they were out the door as soon as they were bored anyway, I just never saw it coming. But like the blue water sailor approaching a continent, I felt the loom of the land, something of a lee shore, imminent disaster, the narcissist loves chaos.


So after months and even years of this anxiety it finally happens, they fuck off with their new beau accusing you of some everlasting wrong, smearing you to all your friends, poisoning relationships left and right.


What good can I make of this?


Clothing Optional Rant Eulogy

jerald

May 17, 2020

About Cliff on CBC Went to the mountains today after hearing that Cliff had passed stopped at Deadman’s Flats, ironically, and listened to Bob Dylan sing she’s never gone as long as she’s inside you So this sense of connection is a choice


Choose a sense of connection


Dr.David Burns said fighting is an intimate connection and a choice to connect with resentment so choose to be connected choose to be not connected


They don’t have to be in the same room to enjoy this feeling this sense of connection or even on the same planet or even in the same time period I feel very connected to my favourite writer long passed away to read his words is to read his mind To see Cliff’s artwork is to see and feel him what he valued and loved and connected to


Some connections, like with Cliff, I value extremely and will always be with me


A Real Treasure

jerald

May 15, 2020

I posted things like this on dating sites, hoping to meet someone with a sense of humour. About me: Art degree with a major in gynecology. I’m not a doctor but I’m willing to have a look. About you: You have sufficient musicality to be able to hum the William Tell overture complete with cannon. You can view this handy instruction video here


https://vimeo.com/115349396


It didn’t work too well for dating but I had fun which come to think of it, is why I wanted to date. Win/win.


2. I really like Coen brothers movie The Big Labowski. Reminds me of growing up in redneck Calgary with an equally bizarre underground drug culture of stoned weirdo’s. I see that they were all aspiring to be Scots:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=upFCJ2-DXQo


3. I recently changed my genes and their expression of diabetes and heart disease in 3 months by reading this guys book and doing what he suggested. After an ultrasound and a thallium stress test the cardiologist said I went from a candidate for a heart attack to having the blood pressure of a fit 35 year old. My blood sugar is now normal. CHANGING LIFESTYLE CHANGES GENE EXPRESSION A Talk with Dean Ornish. The science is better explained here though: Sugar the Bitter Truth.


14. I’m an ordained minister. At least I think I am. After spending 10 bucks on the Internet they sent me this handy email, so it must be true: Congratulations, You are now a legally ordained minister at the First Church of Atheism!


5. I’m an initiated yogi. Hang around Ashrams long enough and someone will eventually initiate you. I’m not sure what it means but at least they didn’t ask me for the deed to my house. I gave all that up for REBT. See#7


6. I am an INFJ in the Myers Briggs personality type system. Rarest of all types I relate to 1 person in 200. So I’m on the outside observing. Same type as Gandhi, Mother Teresa and Martin Luther King. Oh yes and God help me Shirley McLean as well. I hope I’m not channeling an ancient Egyptian cause that would be like weird. Find out your type here.


7. My Dad died when I was 2 from lung cancer, he was a coal miner. I grew up in a state of anxiety in poverty and abuse. I medicated the effects of that with sugar, then nicotine, and then pot and dropped all that for yoga/religion. Finally I found Albert Ellis, the foremost psychotherapist of the last century, read a couple of his books and dropped all that other stuff entirely.


8. When I was 40, after a brief career as an addictions counselor, and a longer career in transportation logistics, I went to art school. For 6 years. A process where every 3 months your work is put before the foremost artists in the land, and they decide if you get another 3 months of school. This process I engaged and did well at, 3 times on the President’s honour role, earned 2 degrees, while watching it tire and burn out 18 year olds. Only 100 graduated of 800 entry submissions. Then I taught there for 10 years, specializing in Adult Education.


The Duchy of Jerald


9. During Art School I was married to a woman who developed a terminal degenerative brain disease (Huntingtons) that affected her personality and emotions negatively and was very difficult on relationship, to put it mildly. We finished up at the same time as I lost my brother as well as my best oldest friend, both to cancer. I lost relationship, my house, studio and my business and family. I was 50 and I started over. What choice do you have? A social worker recently said to me, Jerald you must have been devastated. Is that what you call that? Oh. Now I know.


10. I have taught painting and drawing in the faculty of extension (adult education), having earned an adult education certificate, at local Art Collages and University.


11. I have practiced art as therapy, (using the creative model) in long term care institutions, with people with incurable illness, as they degenerate into slow demise.


12. I learned Photoshop and the internet at art school and eventually spent a few years making a decent living producing images for internet advertising, until the customers left for India and their attractive economy. I would go back to this if I found the right gig. Selling crap to Americans using fear I find to be morally reprehensible, generally speaking. Besides, design isn’t art as I understand it and I prefer to practice my art. Perhaps in the right gig……


13. I have resolved this: If a person I care about doesn’t return my love, I can seek out others who will love me. I could devote more time to my hobbies and other enjoyable pursuits. I can teach myself to enjoy life without a lover. Then if (and when) I do find a lover, I can be doubly happy. I can practice unconditional self acceptance and accept myself with or without a lover.


14. I used to irrationally believe in astrology. I can’t explain what pleased me about it or why I found it to make sense but it just did (confirmation bias). As a Virgo I find this a very strange belief. Must be my Pisces rising and Cancer moon having an effect.


15. Picasso and I are both born in the year of the Snake in Chinese astrology. When I read his quotes I find myself satisfied and vindicated as an artist. Such as: Success is dangerous. One begins to copy oneself, and to copy oneself is more dangerous than to copy others. It leads to sterility. Also: The people who make art their business are mostly impostors.


16. Cameras for me are a delight, as they handle the details, as do computers. I am vaguely interested in the settings of the machines, but mostly revel in the happy accidents of the technology of art, whether it is the chemistry of paint or the code of a flash presentation. To me, it’s all ways to intuitively express my feelings in depth, and it’s impossible to predict the outcome. Don’t ask me how I did something in Photoshop or Painter, I really don’t know. I just push buttons until I get happy then quit.


17. Beth, my former lover, died when we were 17 or so. of a brain tumor. She said to me, “I’m going to die aren’t I”? It was the hardest question I ever had to answer.


18. Glenda Ferster, my former lover, died when she was about 21. She was killed by her taxi passenger, an inmate of a mental institution on leave, while she was driving cab. He raped her and left her body in the bush near Exshaw Alberta. It was the hardest funeral I ever had to attend. The search for her had been called off but the cab drivers didn’t quit. We kept going till we found her. http://www.taxi-library.org/canada/ferster-g.htm


19.The movie Good Will Hunting makes a lot of sense to me. I also was a (virtual) orphan, who was adopted by working class trade folks (transportation) who went on to higher education and career after receiving counseling.


20. I love to drive. I once worked at a bus company training their drivers. Driving heavy equipment pleases me.


21. My Taylor guitar makes the most beautiful sounds. I love everything about it, the smell the feel of my fingers on the strings. It can be loud. I call it my banjo-killer.


22. I studied voice (opera) for a year. My teacher Maudi said, “you really can’t sing can you ? All right then!


23. I got busted for a joint when I was a kid. I got a hundred dollar fine. Still can’t get into the States or work for the City due to my record. I find I don’t miss either experience.


24. I love Patrick O’Brian’s Master and Commander series of books. Read all 20. 6 times. You are the nutmeg of consolation, the rose of desire and the very flower of consideration. Ahhhhhhhhh bliss. I highly prefer character development to procedural. He is the master.


25. This is what I have come to believe from all of that:


A Real Treasure


There is only one of me.


I am a unique individual, one of a kind.


Therefore I have value,Whether I am young


Or old


Fat or thin


Tall or short


I accept myself as a unique work of art


Vastly interesting


Fascinating


Endlessly changing


Person


Of limitless possibilities (I think of Steven Hawking, wheelchair bound, immobile, scientist, professor, husband and father if I happen to contemplate my `inability’ to create satisfaction in my life)


Because:


I am always in this process of change


Therefore:


I cannot be a finished perfect`Anything’ (Insert label here [if you must])


This imperfection (by definition) has no bearing whatsoever


On my `value’ or `worth’


I have value or worth because I am a unique one of a kind piece of very fine constantly evolving art that has perhaps not existed before and perhaps may not again


And in my mind, so are you.


So I take pleasure in you, simply because I want it,


A real Treasure.


Blackstock ‘07


Predator and Prey

jerald

May 5, 2020

OK. How did it happen?


She approached me an the gym


I was sought out


Slightly handicapped


Seduced, flirted and flattered.


Chatted me up for an hour.


Walked away with my contract for training


Specialized in stroke recovery


With a side of implied romance


Oh you have made my day love bombing


Undervalued and Dumped


Didn’t respond to an email


Cancelled last minute


Our first session


Another client took it more priority


Grooming with guilt and obligation to accept


Manipulation with nice


traditional plague plagiary

jerald

Apr 7, 2020


trust

jerald

Apr 7, 2020

what is it?


I was raised by conservative narcissists


all narcissists are liars


I am afraid


I don’t trust anybody


blind trust


is no trust


blinded by the charm


to create trust


The Problem


I must do well and win the approval of others or else I am no good. I can’t trust their approval or their evaluation of do well Other people must do “the right thing” or else they are no good and deserve to be punished.  I can’t trust them to do the right thing. Life must be easy, without discomfort or inconvenience I can’t trust life The Way Out  Is there any evidence that I am no good? The only evidence I can find is that their likes and dislikes only describe them, this I can trust. Where is it written that others must? Just because I prefer it, does that mean I must have it? It’s a pain, but it’s not awful Accept Accept Accept The purpose of life is satisfaction What good can I make of this?        

Anniversary

jerald

Mar 28, 2020

So. This is my anniversary. 20 years since smoking cessation 32 since habitual pot/booze was a factor in my life I was very anxious The people that I had counted on to nurture and protect me Abandoned me as a child Then they attacked me Guilt, as it was all my fault, I was groomed to believe I was responsible for the attack I had asked people who had nothing to give For what I wanted. They hate that They abandon and attack Then smear Overvalue Undervalue Dump Smear


This was my Mom, and siblings My Dad died of lung cancer and left me in the care of a narcissist Mom Who abdicated her responsibilities and left me to my animal siblings Narcissists in training, nothing to give, abandonment & attacking Grooming me to care for her My only way to gain affection, as a reward. Codependent in training Groomed with Fear Obligation Guilt


So I learned not to ask for what I want to fear the guilt-attack consequence Asking will get you abandoned, dumped Raging at the world for not anticipating my needs My needs are not a priority anyway I knew So I never asked again All or Nothing became my life Anxious to please to not get attacked and dumped


By age 12 I was a pack a day man. Roll your owns, the only skill my mother taught me. Because it was cheaper for her. I had taught myself to tie my own shoes And to read When I ran from the bullies into the library They knew I wouldn’t fight back No one taught me to fight back That it was OK to defend myself To hurt others As the slaves hurt the slave owners By being free


I taught myself logistics of planning escape routes From stupid violent people at age 6 who hunted me I became the best dispatcher in the city Fleets of 400 vehicles to manage for 20 years The stupid people drove the cars I the codependent took care of them


Holding my anger down with cigarettes and pot Living in a drug induced haze And anxiety Is today the day I will get fired? A self fulfilling prophecy.


So I went to my love Art School There I learned that the designers are codependent and please others The Artists please themselves


As I started to ask for what I want, my wife threw me out Narcissists manipulate by withholding sex Almost impossible to tell till you are in it The are overvalue-love-bombing and very convincing liars I sought therapy Assertiveness training Cognitive rational therapy REBT I deprogrammed me from over anxiety and rage Yoga and religion down the drain too No longer sucking my resources With nothing to give back Guilt-attacked for asking


I find that asking for what I want is still scary There is a tension that exists before the relationship Gets better Or ends Sometimes a risk is fun too Being alone has the joys of solitude So nothing to lose in the asking, reasonably


Sometimes at the gym I try to make friends When I go I do stroke recovery these days So many gym rats have nothing to offer They see me as a gimp a crip a drain on their resources The Yoga people are actively hostile They are there to Look Good In Bed Pissed that I ask for friendship in a coffee a chat Whats your email I’ll get back to you As sincere in their fake empathy as a used car salesman with his prospect No proof in that pudding


Either way Problem solved I know where I stand No longer in over anxiety Sucking chemicals to feel better Like my Dad who was abandoned and attacked by his Awful angeraholic Scottish father and codependent Irish mother They sent 6 of their kids to live at the Salvation Army Their needs being an inconvenience Dad killed his lungs with chemicals to the point of cancer at age 40 Self harming To feel better From the incest-like abuse Of being attacked by the one you are supposed to trust To care for you


So this is the anniversary of my self care initiation Happy Birthday to me!


Heartbreak Alley

jerald

Mar 23, 2020

Heart broken


I am broken


I didn’t do relationship right


Obviously


Because she left


So


It’s all my fault


That she didn’t keep her promise


That she wasn’t loyal


That I am broken


or


She didn’t keep her promise


Because she is not sincere


She left because


I asked for what I want


To Deepen Relationship


She Had Nothing to Offer


She Didn’t Keep Her Promise


Of Love


Because She Is A Liar


She Slept With Another


Because She Is Bored


She Craves Chaos


conclusion


I am not Broken


Disappointed yes


Even Devastated


But Not Broken


Overvalue, Undervalue, Dump, Smear

jerald

Mar 21, 2020

From my family, particularly my Mother, to my siblings, acquaintances, through my spiritual search for connection that I didn’t receive at home, (my father died of a lung cancer he found in a coal mine); to co-workers and colleagues, my search for family and connection utopia brought only more pain that I was seeking to relieve.


I didn’t mention marriage in that list, for even though I went through the ceremony, there wasn’t even an attempt to sustain relationship from the partner who chose me and suggested the rites.


I was sought out, a victim of the hunt, of a predator, really a series of predators, searching for their utopia of never being bored. Hurt and vulnerable, intelligent, artistic and good looking I was the prime target, then the competitor to be killed, the person to be blamed for their mental health issues when it turned out that what I wanted was a boring old sane stable relationship where healthy people assert their rights and ask for what they want to deepen relationship. This, as it turns out, is the garlic repelling the vampire, they leave a trail of smear going out the door. Rinse repeat.


The problem with the list of my ‘crimes’ was that I believed them. I believed in belief. They had to leave, it was all my fault. I had asked for what I wanted, the cardinal sin. Since they had nothing to give, they left, blaming me.


The healing for the pain: Is there any evidence for the belief? This is the prime deprogramming question whether it is from being convinced of original sin in western Christianity, reincarnation because you are a loser in the Dali Lama’s Tibetan Buddhism, or my ‘wife’ who is controlling by withholding sex, similar to advanced yoga at the Ashram, by saying it is my fault due to poor technique because I asked for what I want.


Assertiveness training saved me. How to ask for what you want from people who scare you. I had a lot of scare. It turns out over-anxiety is a consequence of the belief that I can’t handle life and I must be liked. Evidence based psychology sustains me. Where is the evidence that I can’t handle life, and I must be liked? There never is any as here I am alive and capable of creating some form of satisfaction for myself. Based on pretty obvious evidence.


Where is your family? was often asked of me at the hospital during my 6 month stay doing stroke rehab. Why I’m right here, I would reply. Most thought I was brain damaged from the stoke I’m sure.


Any time I’ve been in trouble, those who were merely acquaintances, as it suddenly turned out, that I saw as close, similar to a family feeling of loyalty, fucked off.


Well we are not available to spend a week visiting was the put off from Rob and Rose, when I asked to crash at their house in Victoria. Not that I asked for that level of creepy closeness, I asked to be alone with the ocean after being dumped by a devastating narcissist. They had on 3 occasions come to live with me during the housing shortages when Rob returned to school. He went on to marry his daughter emotionally, started a business with her, his wife denying him by being sunk in depression. The kid becomes the wife, taking care of Dad’s emotional needs for partnership (at least), typically conservative (he’s an RCMP cop) by making relationship a business deal. A very competitive family, running a karate school cult, anxious and hostile with the wife and and daughter competing for Dad. Incest by any other name smells like shit.


The devastation and the damage, comes from believing that these losses are all my fault, that I asked for what I wanted, making them leave.


Recently Theresa a former girlfriend I had stayed in touch with on FB now living in Little Rock Arkansas took a trip back to visit family, and asked to visit me. A visit she found boring based on her lack of enthusiasm as she was doing a social chore. When I asked to deepen the connection by communicating on social media, she refused saying it felt like emotional infidelity. Nothing to offer, she left, smearing, going out the door. Blaming.


Rinse repeat.


I have been supposedly socially isolated for a couple of years now doing stroke recovery, but not really. I am grateful for social media, my social skills, and for my own company.


How to make L. reuteri yogurt: A step-by-step guide

jerald

Mar 20, 2020

By Dr. Davis | July 27, 2019



Making yogurt out of Lactobacillus reuteri is really a simple, straightforward process that I have been talking about for the past year. But some people get tripped up on the details, lamenting the thin, sour, or discolored end-result they obtain.


So here is the simple recipe, step-by-step to minimize your potential for making mistakes. Truly: I have made something like 60-70 batches with not a single failure. You can do this, too.


Why do this? Well, if you are new to this conversation, you will be excited to know that the yogurt is really not about yogurt, as conventional yogurts achieve none of these effects. This “yogurt” fermented with two unconventional strains of Lactobacillus reuteri achieve effects that include:


Smoothing of skin wrinkles due to an explosion of dermal collagen


Accelerated healing, cutting healing time in almost half


Reduced appetite, the so-called “anorexigenic” effect—food still tastes good, but you are almost completely indifferent to temptation


Increased testosterone in men


Increased libido


Preservation of bone density—Obtaining L. reuteri is one of the most important steps you can take to prevent osteoporosis


Deeper sleep—though this benefit is enjoyed by less than 20% of people


Increased empathy and desire for connectedness with other people


Probiotic effects that may include prevention of small intestinal bacterial overgrowth, SIBO


The majority of benefits are a result of L. reuteri‘s ability to provoke hypothalamic release of oxytocin, a hormone that is proving to be the key to substantial age-reversal and health effects.


You will need:


–Glass or ceramic bowl or other vessel large enough to hold at least one quart of liquid –2 tablespoons of prebiotic fiber such as inulin or raw potato starch –Starter: Either 10 tablets BioGaia Gastrus or 2 tablespoons previous batch of L. reuteri yogurt (whey or curds or mixture of both) –1 quart of half-and-half or other liquid (to make with coconut milk, several additional steps and ingredients are required) –Some method of maintaining at 100 degrees F


Yields: Around 8 one-half-cup servings


Make sure your bowl or other vessel is clean after washing with hot soap and water:



Add 2 level tablespoons of prebiotic fiber:



Add 10 crushed tablets of Gastrus (that provide 200 million CFUs of L. reuteri, a relatively small number). Crush the tablets with a mortar and pestle or by putting into a plastic bag and crushing with a rolling pin or heavy bottle/glass until reduced to a coarse powder. (The tablets are flavored with mint and mandarin, but the taste does not show in the final product, nor in subsequent batches.) Once you have made your first batch, make subsequent batches with two tablespoons of the prior batch, rather than crushed tablets; it can be any mixture of whey or solid curds, as both contain L. reuteri.



Mix either crushed tablets or 2 tablespoons prior yogurt with prebiotic fiber:



Add a little, e.g., 2 tablespoons, of your choice of dairy; I used organic half-and-half, as this yields the best texture (and, of course, we NEVER limit fat in the Wheat Belly lifestyle). Make a slurry by stirring; this prevents clumping of the prebiotic fiber. (Whole milk—NEVER low- or non-fat—yields a thinner end result, while cream yields something close to butter, too thick for my taste.)



Stir in remainder of half-and-half or other liquid:



Cover lightly with plastic wrap or other means. Ferment by maintaining at 100 degrees F for 36 hours. Prolonged fermentation—far longer than the 6 or so hours of commercial yogurts that explain why the bacterial counts are so low–in the presence of prebiotic fibers yields far higher bacterial counts in the tens to hundreds of billions per serving.


I used a basin-type sous vide device, but you can use a stick sous vide, yogurt maker with adjustable temperature control, or Instant Pot. (Just be careful with the Instant Pot or yogurt makers without adjustable temperature, as they are set to be compatible with conventional yogurt microorganisms and are often too hot and kill L. reuteri; if your device heats to 110 degrees F or higher, it will likely kill L. reuteri and you should find an alternative means of heating. If in doubt, turn on your device and measure the temperature reached with a thermometer first before you ruin a batch.) Keep your materials out of the way of fans, heating/cooling vents, or other sources of air contamination.



The end-result for me is rich, thick, and delicious, better tasting—and with far higher probiotic bacterial counts—than anything you can buy in a store. Once refrigerated, the “yogurt” is so thick that it can stand upright on a plate:



Serve with fresh or frozen berries, grainless granola, squirt of liquid stevia, or your choice of fruit or natural sweetener.


Political correctness: how the right invented a phantom enemy

jerald

Mar 7, 2020

Political correctness: how the right invented a phantom enemy


http://gu.com/p/5dtnh/stw



One Day

jerald

Mar 6, 2020

and suddenly you wake up


and the world is no longer


built


for you


you are


now


left handed


now


one legged


now


one armed


now


the ambulance driver is an ultra conservative jock jerk


sit down before you fall on someone !


as you try to say you need the washroom


but


now


your mouth no longer works


now


you can no longer swallow


with force of will


over 6 months


in hospital


you climb out of bed


you climb out of the wheelchair


two years goes by


you discard the walker


50% you don’t use the cane


every other day


you are in the gym


you live in a province of fascists


who hate you


you use their taxes


to live on


you are disorderly


without order


‘special’ needs


you aren’t special


as you compete ‘unfairly’ for the sympathy


that they ‘deserve’ for their plight


their world is unfair


Hard Luck Rivalry


behind the eugenics


Hitler sent you to the camps


cutting costs


they bump you on the stairs at the gym


hard


as you struggle down


unable to get out of their way


like hockey bully enforcers


on the hard ice


of no social skills


compassion


or


empathy


or else they force their


Virtue Signaling


standing at the top of the stairs


holding the door open


showing their physical superiority


intimidating


standing in the doorway


so you can’t get past


a no win situation


smell their armpit


or suffer their displeasure


and risk their complaint but


not realizing they are on camera


‘both of us won’t fit in that door’


‘I’m holding it open for you’


‘both of us won’t fit in that door’


fine then and


stomps off like an angry 4 year old


as narcissist coward predators hunt victims that can’t fight back


this is the new normal



Cake

jerald

Mar 4, 2020

the advantage to being atheist


is in having a set of morals


like


I have the right to hurt people


by setting boundaries


the slaves hurt the slave owners


by being free


not being manipulated with broken promises


is the icing on that particular cake



Who Says

jerald

Mar 4, 2020

who says


the hook


doesn’t hurt


the fish



She Said

jerald

Mar 3, 2020

she said she would contact me for coffee


she didn’t


people have a right to change their minds


or


people have a right to be liars and con-artists


it stings


devastation is a choice


liars lie because they are liars so they should lie


based on evidence


no response is a response



Asking

jerald

Mar 3, 2020

I prefer the words that reveal


the asking


for what you want


from a stranger



the best writers create the best images

jerald

Mar 1, 2020


copyright Blackstock Art&Design all rights reserved

they can ban breasts vaginas and denigrate the beauty that is woman


the words that create the images in the mind


create 3 dimensional holograms more beautiful than anything the brush or camera can begin to attempt


the best writers create the best images


another nazi buys into social media seeking to influence free speech


previously I deleted tumblr facebook and insta when that occurred


now I rejoin them with an ad blocker to deny them revenue


and a liberal social agenda


to advertise my work at their cost


the creatures