Tripping in Cadaques

This is a blog entry from my laptop... it is out of sync with the rest of the entries... but I finally have internet access to add it.

So in Spain men have to be men, except on Mardi Gras day. All the boys that strut around with male male bravado all year dress up like women on this day. It is a huge tranny fest. This became a problem for me... I ill explain later. Anyhow crazies, intellectuals, geniuses, artists, philosophers, drug addicts, hippies, musicians, and lost souls show up here in Cadaques. It is legal to smoke marijuana on the street. You can have 3 pot plants in your home. Cocaine, XTC, heroine, and LSD are easy to come by. I met a really cool Austrian guy that rides a yellow bicycle. The whole village knows this man. He is super cool... he is enlightened. Anyhow, people told me he was the king of pure LSD in the town. Well I thought "I have not done LSD since I was about 19 years old... what better place to try this again than Dali's home town" So I did. He warned me only to take half... but I took the whole thing anyway. Oh my... "hello God, how are you?" So when I started to come up I hung out in the bar that Dali and Picasso frequented. I warned the bartender of my situation and told him if I started acting crazy or was about to get mysef in trouble to warn me. By this time it was about 4am... so I started to talk to a local that was on something I was not privy to. He started to make me nervous so I politely moved from where I was sitting. About fifteen minutes later he showed up with his arm around one of his friends wearing a dress. Now I realize this was his best friend that he wanted to introduce to the new gringo in town... but I thought he wanted me to go home with him and his gay lover... so I said, "Oh... I'm ot gay... sorry." I thought that was the end of it. About 3 minutes later I turn around... he smiles at me... and then open hand slaps the shit out o me. He was obviously very offended. Then everyone started screaming at him in Spanish that I was tripping... I fled... but was followed by a guy who was kind of baby sitting me. He calmed me down in broken English and told me to stand on the beach and find some peace. I yelled at the top of my lungs "Where the fuck are you GOD?" I threw rocks into the ocean then covered my head with sand... "Where are you GOD?" He sat on the bench behind me cooly taking a smoke watching me freak out. He said he was god and i was god... but the devil lives in the village as well... evil lurks everywhere good lurks... so beware was his advice. He asked if I needed a ride back to my hotel to clean up. I said sure.

We jumped on his Vespa and headed back. I don't know how many people reading this have ever taken acid... much less pure acid... but a high speed Vespa ride in the dark in a european seaside village was one of the most exhilerating this I've ever done. the cobble stone and walls blurred past his streaming/shaking headlight. It was amazing. Something I'll never forget.

Anyhow, he dropped me at my hotel and dissappeared into the night. I haven't seen him again. I grabbed my jacket and strolled the beach and winding streets by myself. I found a secluded spot on a beach and watched the sun come up over the sea. It was at this moment that everything in the world was in complete harmony. It was at this moment I felt complete Love and Peace from the universe. I was in God and God was in me. My mind resonated in complete nirvana for what I estimate to be about 4-10 minutes. My path is crazy... no doubt... my mouth is sometimes more trouble than it's worth... if I could only be quiet... I would. But I can't. That said I'm not scared of anything, even death. My life is rich and full and am happy to be here now. I'm even happy for the slap in head.

Update: The last night in Cadaques the slap in the face guy and I become great friends. He introduced me to all of his pretty girlfriends... gave me a sofa to crash on and fixed me breakfast in the morning. I didn't even have to sleep with him...LOL. Before I left he said I could take as much Marijuana as I could carry in one hand out of his grocery bag full. I rolled myself a fat joint and called it good. I don't want this guy slapping me again(Better a slap than a punch though... he really could have knocked me out with a fist).

A man called "Big Sky"

Room mate number 2. A curious older fellow from Texas. Is this guy for real? I had my doubts at first. As the week progressed I began to believe this guy was not shitting me at all. One condition of me sharing his story was that he remain anonymous. He was a man of means with a big heart and a troubled past. His parents were killed crossing from France into Italy when he was 3 months old. He was adopted by a French man. Then ran off to the states with a native American guy that was friends of his parents when he was 7 years old. He is self taught self made and a motivational speaker. He stays in hostels to meet interesting and troubled people. He helps disabled folks at his home in Marseille. Has places all over the world and prefers tents to houses. He has worked with many famous people and is truly connected. When we toured Marseille together people knew him every where we went and he always brought a smile to their faces. A true comedian. He has helped inspired me to dig deep and figure out how I can help people with my story. He has even said he'd help me with housing in Europe and possibly seed money for a project that helps Americans like myself looking to discover themselves. He is a philosopher. We have a pretty good bond and we're gonna be traveling to Italy together on the train tomorrow. What an interesting journey this has become. I'm sure to add more about him in later posts.

Lost in Venice

There is a Labyrinth called Venice. I really could not orient myself at all. It seemed like every street ended in a dead end. I painted a huge goofy face on the street in the middle of the night. I probably would be in trouble if I were caught since I painted it in oils. It will be there for a while I am sure. Ooops. Not one of my better works. I then fell asleep on the street and was harassed by the police... I have been in hand cuffs twice so far on this trip. Good thing they did not know about my street painting... I am sure they would have probably thrown me in jail. Time to go to Florence... eventually I assume I will not be welcome on the planet. I think someone should commit me. Oh my oil paint supplies are at the bottom of the Grand Canal... long story... I am not interested in sharing. I think I might stick to the drawing for a while before buying more oil paintings.

I'm in Cremona Italy... Land of Violins

This is the town where Stratovarius lived. It is a beautiful little place outside of Milan. I've been drawing and writng a book lately... more than painting. I have about 12 blogpost that I wrote on my laptop that I can't seem to get my internet connection to work over here. As soon as I figure it out I'll post them all at once with a ton of photos. I finished my comissioned paintings for 500 bucks. She was very pleased. I have some of the craziest stories yet on my laptop. So keep in tune. Plenty of stories like the Acid trip moto scooter ride that ended in God somewhere... being slapped in face... the Jewish room mate who got drunk and shit in his pants at the Muslim boarding house(which I had to mop up while being scolded in some arabic language)... Or the French hostel roomate who apparently robbed a burger joint and shot a kid in the face... or the rich Texas philanthropist who has offered to be an Angel donor if I start a non-profit artist colony for americans to escape the rat race like I did... oh my... I am hooking up with an Italian girl tonight named Francesca... she is absolutely the definition of passion... crazy fucking chic... i hope she doesn't break me. She makes me seem quiet and shy.

Anyhow hope all of you are well. I have 2 new missions: stop people from jumping off of the Aurora bridge. And convince the pope to leave the cathedrals open 24\7. I think I'm gonna start a series of cathedral paintings... that all have a fence around them and a do not enter sign... which is what they all in fact do have. When I was sleeping a bench... I couldn't get into the church. Fucking ridiculous... "You can't cry here!" Screw that.

One more thing... "START LIVING YOUR FUCKING LIVES PEOPLE! TIME IS RUNNING OUT!"

Comissions... comissions!

So the woman I mentioned earlier comissioned me to do 2 small paintings for 500 bucks. Very cool. I am about half way finished. I will deliver them on Monday. I am probably gonna meet with a gallery owner Saturday morning to discuss the possibility of having a show... but it is hard for me to hang onto to 20 paintings(which I think is probably what I'll need). I am staying at a youth hostel just outside of the city center. Funny... it looks like most of the people staying there aren't youths at all. I am painting in the common area. It is a great conversation starter. Many requests and questions about, "How much will it cost to paint me?" This usually gets silenced when I say 200 euros for B&W/500 euros for Color. Anyhow it's nice to know people appreciate my work. The most genuine request so far is from the beautiful young receptionist that works at the hostel front desk. She is also a painter but like many of us artists that have "real" jobs she has trouble finding the time to paint. She asked if it would be okay to just watch me paint. That's the same thing I ask any painter I see working. She is obviously a legitimate painter and I'm honored she wants to learn from me. Did I mention she is very pretty... so I may have trouble concentrating with her sitting behind me.

My latest street sign

J'échangerai de l'art contre les euros, les aliments, l'habitation, ou une petite amie française sexy.

Marseille ain't so bad after all

Never judge a city from the first day. I painted all afternoon recieved many great responses, some food, and some money. I also had inquiries for 2 comissions... 1 of a chair in front of a fireplace... the other for a very pretty young woman's portrait. I also met another artist that asked if I be interested in showing my work in his gallery. Looks like I might be staying here a little longer... I do have to say this city is full of eye candy for my newest style of artwork.

On another note... I'm staying with 2 people I met on the train in an Islamic boarding house. I was a little uncomfortable at first. But there is no alcohol allowed and an 11pm curfue. I thought this might not be a bad idea for me. Now if I can keep hold of my passport and remember not to bring a painting of Jesus or Bush into the place... I think it will work out. They seem nice enough... and it is only 10 dollars a night... oh but a shower cost 4 bucks(bring your own soap and towel). Doh!

My Art Gallery

Here is a link to a selection of previous and ongoing art projects:

New Album 2/19/07 6:33 PM

France? CRAP... now everything I say is in Spanish!

So I got on the first train out of Spain. Target destination is Greece but first stop is Marseille, FRANCE. What a fucking hell hole. This is one dirty disgusting place. Lot's of cool stuff to paint... so I'll try my best to stick tight for a few days and whip out some more art to be destroyed. Anyhow my feet are fucked. So many blisters and now a rash. I think I might buy some new shoes today with more ventilation or maybe just poke some holes in mine. I'll see how it goes. So far Spain is my favorite European country besides Holland. That said... Holland is expensive. Spain is very cheap. So obviously I chose Spain.

Breakin into Dali's Casa

Well I had quite a freak out. I think I caught a little cabin fever mix that with tequilla and trouble arises. I was looking for a friend's art studio. And an old lady led me to the church instead. I lost it, laid on the alter and started to let it all out. An alter boy tapped me on the shoulder and said "You can't cry here." This disturbed me and actually made me a little angry. I realized I'm sick of Dali and this place is Dali's place not mine. I had 6 surreal paintings I had done over the past 4 weeks. I went to the beach in the center of town and destroyed them screaming "No more Dali!" I threw a painting at some tourist reading the Dali sign near by. It was quite a spectacal and word of craziness travels fast. I had already decided to try my darnest to get into Dali's house. I offered the Security guard 300 bucks to let me look around. He refused. That was not cool and Dali himself would have gone in anyway so I did. I jumped the stone wall and stealthily strolled the grounds of his garden. I took the highest rock from the garden and threw it into the sea. I then hid my business card in a special place for any friends visiting to find. On my way out I noticed the back door was open so I entered Dali's house. I was stopped immediately by the guard I saw earlier. A very respectable official told me I should probably leave town. I told him I was looking for an Apartment. He told me it probably wasn't a good idea. So I got on the first bus out of town.

The Venosas

Marcus Venosa, incredible bassist in a Jazz band. I met this guy and was told about his farther Robert Venosa. Check out his site : www.venosa.com

He and H R Geiger studied together. He introduced Geiger to Dali who in turn introduced Geiger to the makers of Aliens. Great people are alive here in Cadaques.

Call for help... I´m being held captive

Just kidding. So I´ve lost most of my communication devices. Cell is dead, computer is dead and credit card is gone. I couldn´t be happier. This place called Cadaques is a magic place. Anyone who is a master of their art and doesn´t quite fit in somewhere else journeys here and never leaves. It´s like the Gods have decended here and they have nowhere else to go. There are only 2 single women worth mentioning in this little town. And to talk with them is to talk with their father.
No thanks... so there is lot´s of time for reflection. I´m actually learning to be quiet. Imagine that. Somedays I just sit all day on a rock by the Sea and get to this really deep peaceful place in my mind. I´ve started looking for a place to live and make art. I need to start making a living as an artist in order to hold onto to my nest egg. The exchange rate isn´t helping my cause either. It is becoming quite a challenge to paint in a hotel room. I have temporarily post poned my journey eastward. Oh my God, I am stuck in Salvador Dali´s town... couldn´t be more perfect though. I love this place... and I´m really feeling embraced by the locals and my extended family of crazy artists.

Losing everything... especialy my mind.

No more ATM card. Cell phone is dead. Laptop is acting up. Typing this from an internet Cafe. Took some pure LSD Mardi Gras day and saw GOD for the second time in my life. He says ¨Hello¨ to all of you. Will update blog as soon as I get my laptop debugged. Later... I don´t want to ever come back to the states.

Cadaques/ Port Lligat

So the next day I packed up and grabbed a bus to Cadaques. This is the small town that Dali and Gala lived next to in Port Lligat. I got off the bus and started trekking straight to the master's house. I turned the corner of the mountain road and there it was. In plain sight I could see the home adorned in obnoxious white eggs. Not long now. I passed through various twisting village roads at a hurried pace. downhill from here. A couple of times I almost bit the dust as my excitement out paced my feet. Finally there it was. A place I had seen in movies and pictures since I was 16 years old. I was finally here. A place where the greatest art ever was created. I walked up and touched the dwelling. Emotions overwhelmed me. I started sobbing uncontrollably. It was real... the master was a real man and this is where he lived. Another emotion that ran through me was that I was here alone. I had always assumed Stacie would be with me. I always admired the love Dali had for his wife and tried to show my wife the same kind of adoration. Somethings just weren't meant to be I guess. I was not Dali. I am Loveless. It's time to start walking my own path... the path I'm on.

The next day I found an art store and stocked up on canvases. Went back to Dali's house and painted "Tree in a boat" which is right in front of Dali's doorstep. A storm rolled in off of the sea and it became extremely cold. I would make tourists laugh by shaking my brush like it was too cold to paint a straight line. They all laughed... even though we had zero capability of communicating verbally. It's cool how physical humor is universal. I then went back to the hotel room and finished up what I had started by memory. Feeling extremely inspired by being here I then spent several hours on a Dali portrait... I plan on finishing that portrait tonight.

Hola Figueres

Figueres is the boyhood town of Salvador Dali. It is also the place where the Spanish Dali museum is. I took a train ride from Barcelona to Figueres for 7 bucks.
I gave away 3 paintings on the way to the train station because they were a nuisance to carry. I didn't paint anything here because I couldn't find an art store that was open. I only stay one night. Anyhow, the first stop was the Dali museum. If you are coming to Spain to see this... save your money. It is a real let down. It has none of Dali's important pieces. Mostly contains lesser known paintings and his tokens of love to Gala. Also this place was designed and decorated by Dali himself. If I were to say one thing to him while he was alive about the museum... "Don't quit your day job dude." To see his best work go to St. Petersburg, Florida. It will bring you to your knees. I was however inspired to draw a picture of him.

I did go out to a disco and met a brazilian wing-man. We had no luck hooking up with any Chicas but had a great time anyhow. He smoked some hashish with me outside the club. We drank rum and he taught me Spanish all night. When the club closed we went home Brazilian style. I jumped in a shopping cart and he pushed me through the desolate streets as fast and as scary as he could. When it was my turn to push I crashed him into 3 cars and eventually flipped him over on a speed bumped. We laughed and laughed. Funny sometimes how a little booze and a goofy friend can make a lasting memory acting like fools.