Acritical Rant

This is a rant. 

As such it is not coherent at all (it started as something completely different, too, and then derailed completely off tracks) and - possibly - quite uninteresting for anybody else.


"I go through moments of so wanting to draw, wonder if you have ever been like that?"
                                                                                   - A friend of mines, that I hope will be back at drawing soon.


Yes, most of the time

And a long time ago, I did stop drawing for good.

At the time I had a job, that ate a lot of my time, and a family that, depending on the member of it, was either disparaging me because I didn't earn that much (for all my perceived intelligence), or was trying to castrate me, and terrorize me - it was as living with my very own, very personal Osama Bin Laden -, so that I didn't go beyond control, and didn't bring the dogs of thought police upon me, shaming everybody.

It all come to a boiling point in 2006, when I blew up a gasket or two (or seven [chakras]), and I have been through a long period of crisis ever since... ten years long, and no signs of getting better in sight.

I do not have a job any more and I am not even sure that I could manage to keep it, if I landed one:

I have attacks of panic at the mere thought of going back to that situation.

Working 9 hours a day plus 4 of travel for literally NOTHING that I cared for.

I couldn't even keep the car that I  liked because it was too "Crappy", run-down and a hard ride, so I had to switch to my late father's Mercedes.

Mercedeses are comfortable, but are one Bloody Hell Boring  piece of junk.

The only manly drive is Alfa Romeo RWD Saloons (or the GTV6).

Losing 13 hours a day to a dead end job, just to come back home and being harassed because some idiot fell ill with SARS in Taiwan, to have the privilege of paying the wages of any damned bastard in an uniform that may cross my path and make me feel in danger (because a lot hat I draw does put me in danger).

Fuck Off!

Fuck Off!

Fuck Off!

Fuck Off!

Fuck Off!

Fuck Off!

Fuck Off!

Fuck Off!

Fuck Off!

If this is all that life is,Fuck Goddamn Off! I am not going to lay a finger, to keep the wheels turning in this shit way -  and I mean it.

I burnt out all my savings and some, but I can't manage to step out of the hole I dug for myself - when you reach bottom is time to start digging - not even sure there is anything for me out there, really.

Even if I managed to get back at being a functioning human being.

Hell, even receiving a commission for a drawing spirals me into depression, because it means taking some sort of orders...  and hate is a word too mild to describe how I feel about it.

I am in therapy, and it has helped a lot, but I still sometime despair to ever get back on my feet.

Drawing has been one of the few things that have kept me from the brink, when I routinely thought that I would have been better off by killing myself. Or by killing a lot of somebody else and then, only then, kill myself.

It has kept me going and, bit by little bit, it has given me some new sources of hope, since I started using the DaBotz moniker and be more persistent in my efforts.

In the long term, I know that I'll have either to turn more mainstream, or getting a day job again.

Perhaps by that time I will feel better, less trapped in a world that I do not want to contribute to at all (because a lot of asses  in it would like to see me dead, for not singing to their tunes and not respecting their 'God'-laden authority).

Perhaps not... in which case, it is good that I live in a country where assault weapons are really hard to come by.

Because, some of these days I really like the idea of killing some ass-holes, before fading away.

When I get a bit better, I realize it wouldn't change jack... it would only achieve sending me away with a million tons of guilt in my heart, for having failed to what I consider the only true duty of any living human: bring to the world more joy than the pain that we cause by living.

OK, I'll got drunk, now.