So yeah. It’s Peter. And I’m still here, sporked to the wall, listening to a Professor’s shallow ramblings about destiny and cyber figments and stuff. My heart’s still broken. Mourning the loss of such a killer hairdo as mine takes time. I try to relate the darkness in my soul to the professor but he’ll have nothing of it. Figures. Not many people can be as deep as I, depth that you need to be able to understand the pain I deal with every day thanks to the loss of my locks.
Anyways, there’s not much to do when sporked to a wall. Sure, I’ve got my Blackberry, and I can spend time on the Finch message board and wallow in my pain with other whiney emo dudes. But that gets old! The recent poetry contest got me inspired though….inspired like a suicidal Quaker craves solitude. I figured I’d post some of my art that I have stored on here. Be warned, though. Some of these images are so dark and disturbing that you may be tempted to pluck your eyeballs out and roast them over an open fire until they’ve browned so you can serve them in a disturbing sandwich. It’s happened to me before. Such is Peter.
One of my earliest pieces of art. The eye is one of the most intimate pieces of the body. It is the window into one’s dark, tormented soul. You can see heartbreak, darkness, longing, hemrroids, all in the subtle tears. A subtle favorite of mine.
A drawing representing my inner chi. Here I am, alone and naked and alone. The only company I have is my feelings and pain and emotions and estrogen. My girlfriend would later leave me because of this painting, claiming she thought I wanted to be a girl. As if. She’s just not deep, like me.
The first of my “Clown series.” I became obsessed with clowns, I could not understand their constant happiness. So, I humanized the wretched beasts, giving them emotion and death. This clown is sad. He is human because he can feel such emotion. Not a cybernetic robot circus clown only capable of smiling.
This was the last of my “Clown series.” I was considerably more depressed with this one. It was a rough patch in my life. My girlfriend Stacey had left me because I was too girly and cried too much. I had tried to kill myself 3 times by cutting across the street instead of down it. This clown and his bloody symbollic tears symbolizes my pain.
Now, get ready to see something so horrifying your cranium may explode.
Here’s my last piece of art. A painting of pure wretchedness and despair. I don’t even know how I would begin to paint something more terribly disturbing than this. It is my emotional masterpiece, and something I could never even come close to touching upon again.
Well, that’s all the art of I have my Blackberry. I hope you enjoyed it, because it was created at the cost of my heart shattering many times into a million pieces, like a dinner plate that is broken, and then glued back together, and then broken again. Broken dinner plate. Repair. Destruction. Such is Peter.
Your life totally sucks! And you’re a weird loser, but you already know that. I’m glad you lost your hair. In fact, when we meet, I’ll shave it all off!
-Candace
xDD
Oh dear God, I don’t know how I would survive the hiatus without Peter. “Such is Peter”. Man that is deep.
Cheer up! You’re totally related to me and that woman that speaks French!
What color is your blackberry? It looks like it gets good signal.
If I faked a stroke would you stop relating all of this crap to my potential voters?
Tired of dealing with your black sheep sibling, brother? Am I something to be ashamed of? To cast away? That just adds to my misery. I hate my life.
Nathan! Be nice to your younger brother or I swear I will leak information about your favorite pair of Dixie Chick pajamas to the press!
Peter, please refrain from linking your wonderfully written blog to the constituents of New York. Everywhere else is fair game.
I swear, the long lost granddaughter is behaving more appropriately than the two of you. At least her threats are almost subtle. Have I taught you two nothing?!?!?
Yes, mommy.
Thank you very much, Peter.
Nathan, behave more like your brother.
But I still love you anyway.
Oh, Peter, you need hugs and kisses.
From more than just Nathan.
Are you saying that I don’t hug and kiss my children enough?
Sorry Pete. You know I love you…I don’t kiss him though…Who said that earlier??? That was just a rumor…
Dude suck it up you didnt even paint these… that first sad clown is a portrait of emmet kelly painted by his best friend. stop trying to make people feel sorry for you and stop stealing credit from other artists.