613 Kinds of Sadness

This was originally posted on Tuesday June 30th... And as I'm currently listening to this audio book... (again) and I know this part is coming up... I had to re post it... This book is so amazingly wonderful. (The movie is good too but the book is a trillion times better) And the audio book makes it even more interesting... Nothing like my commute home with the audio book playing to make me crack up with the people in other cars wondering what's wrong with me.

I get so sucked into books.. but this one... audio book format especially has me crying, laughing, repeating things out loud... rewinding and saying things with the narrator... i hate having to turn it off when i get to my destination.. i want to crawl into the story and see it, clearer then my mind paints it.. i want to live it.. the good and the bad.. I want to touch it... I want to be them. The only other book that captures me this much.. Is The Virgin Suicides...




From the book Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. One of the most amazing books I've ever read. Also made into a movie starring Elijah Wood (though amazing, not as deep as the book.)

The 613 Kinds of Sadness by Brod D.

The following encyclopedia of sadness was found on the body of Brod D. The original 613 sadnesses, written in her diary, corresponded to the 613 commandments of our (not their) Torah. Shown below is what was salvageable after Brod was recovered. (Her diary’s wet pages printed the sadnesses onto her body. Only a small fraction [55] were legible. the other 558 sadnesses are lost forever, and it is hoped that, without knowing what they are, no one will have to experience them.) The diary from which they came was never found.

SADNESSES OF THE BODY: Mirror sadness; Sadness of [looking] like or unlike one's parent; Sadness of [looking] like or unlike one’s parent; Sadness of not knowing if your [body is] normal; Sadness of knowing your body is not normal; Sadness of knowing your body is normal; Beauty Sadness; Sadness of m[ak]eup; Sadness of physical pain; Pins-and-[needles sadness]; Sadness of clothes [sic]; Sadness of the quavering eyelid; Sadness of a missing rib; Noticeable sad[ness]; Sadness of going unnoticed; The sadness of having genitals that are not like those of your lover; The sadness of having genitals that are like those of your lover; Sadness of hands….

SADNESSES OF THE COVENANT: Sadness of God’s love; Sadness of God’s back [sic]; Favorite-child sadness; Sadness of b[ein]g sad in front of one’s God; Sadness of the opposite of belief [sic]; What if? sadness; Sadness of God alone in heaven; Sadness of a God who would need people to pray to Him….

SADNESSES OF THE INTELLECT: Sadness of being misunderstood [sic]; Humor sadness; Sadness of love wit[hou]t release; Sadne[ss of be]ing smart; Sadness of not knowing enough words to [express what you mean]; Sadness of having options; Sadness of wanting sadness; Sadness of confusion; Sadness of domes[tic]ated birds; Sadness of fini[shi]ng a book; Sadness of remembering; Sadness of forgetting; Anxiety sadness….

INTERPERSONAL SADNESSES: Sadness of being sad in front of one’s parent; Sa[dn]ess of false love; Sadness of love [sic]; Friendship sadness; Sadness of a bad convers[at]ion; Sadness of the could-have-been; Secret sadness...

SADNESSES OF SEX AND ART: Sadness of arousal being an unordinary physical state; Sadness of feeling the need to create beautiful things; Sadness of the anus; Sadness of eye contact during fellatio and cunnilingus; Kissing sadness; Sadness of moving too quickly; Sadness of not mo[vi]ng; Nude model sadness; Sadness of portraiture; Sadness of Pinchas T’s only notable paper, "To the Dust; From Man You Came and to Man You Shall Return," in which he argued it would be possible, in theory, for life and art to be reversed…

Cuz if you read it, it's true... right?

I obsess over books, stories... the idea of something solid... What does that even mean.. Solid. I'm on this never ending journey to find something solid, in a world full of liquid moments, and electrical shocks. Sudoku.. that's a solid. Judge all you want, but I pour myself into those silly number puzzles, cuz it's real. There is a certain way it must be finished, and nothing else will get you across the goal line. So I find a book that will suck me in... Where I can just zone out this world and enter another. Probably the best thing I know how to do. All of me. Ha. Me.

I love the way words look.. (sound is another story) I have The First Five by Henry Rollins with SO many page marks, of passages and lines, and quotes that I just NEED to make some art to. If not having the words on the painting.. but just being inspired by them...

The above pictures are collected from all over, fuck sources right now. I don't care.. but each has a different font, emotion, story to it... There is a connection to each one from all of me.

It's been about a month since the last time I really painted anything... and there is that feeling that I'm used to, from inside out. It's crawling up and out and I really need to get to work on something. I would really go back to being crazy with out art. heh. Best medication on the planet for someone like me. Or just me. Ha. Me.

613 Kinds of Sadness

From the book Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer. One of the most amazing books I've ever read. Also made into a movie starring Elijah Wood (though amazing, not as deep as the book.)

The 613 Kinds of Sadness by Brod D.

The following encyclopedia of sadness was found on the body of Brod D. The original 613 sadnesses, written in her diary, corresponded to the 613 commandments of our (not their) Torah. Shown below is what was salvageable after Brod was recovered. (Her diary’s wet pages printed the sadnesses onto her body. Only a small fraction [55] were legible. the other 558 sadnesses are lost forever, and it is hoped that, without knowing what they are, no one will have to experience them.) The diary from which they came was never found.

SADNESSES OF THE BODY: Mirror sadness; Sadness of [looking] like or unlike one's parent; Sadness of [looking] like or unlike one’s parent; Sadness of not knowing if your [body is] normal; Sadness of knowing your body is not normal; Sadness of knowing your body is normal; Beauty Sadness; Sadness of m[ak]eup; Sadness of physical pain; Pins-and-[needles sadness]; Sadness of clothes [sic]; Sadness of the quavering eyelid; Sadness of a missing rib; Noticeable sad[ness]; Sadness of going unnoticed; The sadness of having genitals that are not like those of your lover; The sadness of having genitals that are like those of your lover; Sadness of hands….

SADNESSES OF THE COVENANT: Sadness of God’s love; Sadness of God’s back [sic]; Favorite-child sadness; Sadness of b[ein]g sad in front of one’s God; Sadness of the opposite of belief [sic]; What if? sadness; Sadness of God alone in heaven; Sadness of a God who would need people to pray to Him….

SADNESSES OF THE INTELLECT: Sadness of being misunderstood [sic]; Humor sadness; Sadness of love wit[hou]t release; Sadne[ss of be]ing smart; Sadness of not knowing enough words to [express what you mean]; Sadness of having options; Sadness of wanting sadness; Sadness of confusion; Sadness of domes[tic]ated birds; Sadness of fini[shi]ng a book; Sadness of remembering; Sadness of forgetting; Anxiety sadness….

INTERPERSONAL SADNESSES: Sadness of being sad in front of one’s parent; Sa[dn]ess of false love; Sadness of love [sic]; Friendship sadness; Sadness of a bad convers[at]ion; Sadness of the could-have-been; Secret sadness...

SADNESSES OF SEX AND ART: Sadness of arousal being an unordinary physical state; Sadness of feeling the need to create beautiful things; Sadness of the anus; Sadness of eye contact during fellatio and cunnilingus; Kissing sadness; Sadness of moving too quickly; Sadness of not mo[vi]ng; Nude model sadness; Sadness of portraiture; Sadness of Pinchas T’s only notable paper, "To the Dust; From Man You Came and to Man You Shall Return," in which he argued it would be possible, in theory, for life and art to be reversed…

Words Inspiring Art.

Quotes from one of my favorite books, Silvia Plath's The Bell Jar, that hit me rather hard and inspired this little doodle, a few years back.

"The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence."

"Wherever I sat - on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok - I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air."

"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped as a dead baby, the world itself is the bad dream"

"How did I know that someday - at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere - the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn't descend again?"

A post about a memory.

So, this photograph was taken of me, geez.. countless years ago... 4? or so I think... I always loved the way it defined me. Below is a piece i wrote a little over 3 years ago, when I first moved to Pleasanton, when I experienced a flashback to where I spent some time that summer. I enjoy this piece because whenever i reread it... it's all completely real again. Like I'm there, with those emotions and feelings. I did a play this summer called School of Jesus Fish, that took place in a mental hospital. Many of the characters reminded me of all the great people I met when in there. I still think about them a lot...

"It was almost 4:30, I needed to shower and get out of my pj's. I turn the water on full blast, a little too warm for most people, and jump in. Having a stand-up shower can be sort of a bad thing in times like these...

Shampoo in the eyes, always, without fail, I don't know how I do it. I shut them and continue to wash, going through the motion as one normally would do. After about 3 min. I open them to find the light flooding my still stinging eyes. Instantly I clamp them shut, trying in vain to stop the pain from getting worse. This time, while my eyes are closed, the images come back.

The flashback filled the room around me, though I couldn't see it with my eyes closed. I really believed I was living in a moment already past. The cold tile floor, that never seems to be clean enough to want to stand on it. The shower not pumping water hard enough, to make you feel like it's really cleaning you. I can hear voices outside the thick door, I smell the mass produced soap, the kind that everyone has to use here. A new bar every shower, so much waste in here. I know the too small, not soft enough towels are waiting for me. One to step on, when exiting the shower, and one to wrap my shrinking frame in.

I linger in the shower longer then I should. Other patients are waiting to use this stall. Most rather use the large shower, but it's too big and open for the likes of me. Or they like the bathtub room. I'm not allowed in there... The staff have the stupid idea, that I'll try to drown myself. I wouldnt do that, not here... So I opt for the small shower room. Just big enough for the standing shower, a plastic chair to hold your clothes, and a trash can, for the shampoo, conditioner, and soap, after each shower. This hospital smells... different. I'll never forget the smell. I still havnt.

The hallway will be cold, even when I've completely dressed. You can never be fully warm, without shoes. It's the middle of Aug. shouldn't it be warm? Going into the hallway means no more privacy. There will probably be 5 or so people pacing up and down it. Even the old man, being pushed in his wheel chair.. up and down, back and forth, by polite nurses, who try in vain to have conversations with him. All he will do is drool, and yell horrible, dirty things, to her, and to the world in general. Or scream for his wife. We never found out if his wife was alive or dead... But he wanted to see her really bad. Leaving this stall means 3 juice boxes, another container of yogurt, and more snakes, waiting for me in the fridge. Neatly labled with "Jack H." which tells all the other patients to back off. They are trying to fatten me up.

When you arnt allowed to shave, you can never feel like you're getting clean, no matter how hard you scrub. Or how many long showers you take, in between meals and group therapy meetings. You long for the first shower you get, once freed from these walls. But know that when you get into that shower, you'll regret leaving the hospital so fast. Every time... It never changes.

I'm shaking, the hot water seems to run forever. So many people, showering so many times, and yet the water is still filling the room with steam. But your bones never seem to warm up, you shiver through the entire shower, knowing soon that the water will have to be turned off... And the cold will come and envelope your body... A blanket of frost that curls up around you, keeping you company. I stand letting the hot water rush over me, wishing I could stay here forever.

A door slams, I hear wheels rolling down the hall. Lunch trays... Voices get loud, heavy footsteps move down toward the day room. I hear the normal "Where's Jack? She has to eat her lunch." call. I sigh, and push the knob that turns off the shower. Take a few deep breaths, before opening my eyes.

And I'm back in my shower, here at home, in Pleasanton. Water is off, I'm shaking as the cool air moves all around me. It's time to dry off and get dressed. I'm in this world now."