"Self Portrait" by Jas Faulkner
I'm setting the website to sort of, kind of dark for a few weeks. This is so I can decide what to do with it, with me, with my writing, and my art.
It seems like a lifetime ago that I had a personal blog called "Confessions of a Cheesegrits Fiend." It was this fun little site where I wrote about things I cared about, played slap and tickle with whatever was noodling idly in the gelid mass between my ears, and generally got to be my weird self.
I miss me. Actually, that's not quite correct. I found me again and also found that I needed to give myself a little more room to move.
It happened when I looked at the pile of Christmas ornaments nobody bought. My first thought was how to make the hundreds of dollars and scores of man-hours I'd devoted to the first product I'd ever produced pay off.
Of course it would have to be something that amused me. So it came down to my own Izzardian proposition. Instead of "Cake or death?" I proposed a bonfire or yard art. A few people were amused, but most were appalled. So here's the thing, I actually got a lot of gratification from the thought that people were horrified (especially the ones who asked for free ornaments or offered .50 to 1.00 USD for them.)
I also realized that for the past year or so, I was having more fun cheerleading other people's art and businesses and writing weird, appalling stories than trying to keep sweet or at least somewhere in the neighborhood of professional and appropriate. Yeah, y'all saw how that worked out. Concussion or not, I didn't make a very good yes-person. Never have.
So the website is coming down for a bit while I play around in an attempt to make it closer to my perfect world.
In my world, hamsters talk hockey, haints and the people who love them argue over chain-stitches, Episcopal priests wear tie-dyed vestments when they take a notion, and maybe you discover some new things to eat, watch, hear, and read.
One more note:
I got some feedback about the name of my company and my website. Some people were upset that I would identify my work with the part of the U.S. I hail from.
A couple of things about that:
A lot has happened in the lower southeastern corner of the United States since 1865. The arts and letters, the science, the food, the hard-won social progress, that's a bigger part of who we are.
Dixie is cultural gumbo of pride, pain, sin, salvation, triumphs, and hard lessons. To know and love this part of the country is to embrace everyone in it and the history that brought us all to this point.
If you're worried about whether your neighbor is thinking and living like you, if you're determined to hang on to hateful ideologies espoused by fusty ghosts; let me be very clear about this:
You've got way too little to occupy yourself with. You need Jesus or Allah or Mithras or Yaweh or Buddha or Carl Sagan or someone to fill your heart and your head with enough sense of how blessed you are and how you're actually supposed to pay your rent in this life by helping to make someone else feel blessed. Seriously, if you're rattling on about who you hate, check your head and your heart. You're better than that. Really.
All of this is coming from a good place. So is my wish that everyone gets a great December from Krampus or Santa or Black Pieter. Here's to a better 2018.
Much love,
Jas Faulkner
It seems like a lifetime ago that I had a personal blog called "Confessions of a Cheesegrits Fiend." It was this fun little site where I wrote about things I cared about, played slap and tickle with whatever was noodling idly in the gelid mass between my ears, and generally got to be my weird self.
I miss me. Actually, that's not quite correct. I found me again and also found that I needed to give myself a little more room to move.
It happened when I looked at the pile of Christmas ornaments nobody bought. My first thought was how to make the hundreds of dollars and scores of man-hours I'd devoted to the first product I'd ever produced pay off.
Of course it would have to be something that amused me. So it came down to my own Izzardian proposition. Instead of "Cake or death?" I proposed a bonfire or yard art. A few people were amused, but most were appalled. So here's the thing, I actually got a lot of gratification from the thought that people were horrified (especially the ones who asked for free ornaments or offered .50 to 1.00 USD for them.)
I also realized that for the past year or so, I was having more fun cheerleading other people's art and businesses and writing weird, appalling stories than trying to keep sweet or at least somewhere in the neighborhood of professional and appropriate. Yeah, y'all saw how that worked out. Concussion or not, I didn't make a very good yes-person. Never have.
So the website is coming down for a bit while I play around in an attempt to make it closer to my perfect world.
In my world, hamsters talk hockey, haints and the people who love them argue over chain-stitches, Episcopal priests wear tie-dyed vestments when they take a notion, and maybe you discover some new things to eat, watch, hear, and read.
One more note:
I got some feedback about the name of my company and my website. Some people were upset that I would identify my work with the part of the U.S. I hail from.
A couple of things about that:
A lot has happened in the lower southeastern corner of the United States since 1865. The arts and letters, the science, the food, the hard-won social progress, that's a bigger part of who we are.
Dixie is cultural gumbo of pride, pain, sin, salvation, triumphs, and hard lessons. To know and love this part of the country is to embrace everyone in it and the history that brought us all to this point.
If you're worried about whether your neighbor is thinking and living like you, if you're determined to hang on to hateful ideologies espoused by fusty ghosts; let me be very clear about this:
You've got way too little to occupy yourself with. You need Jesus or Allah or Mithras or Yaweh or Buddha or Carl Sagan or someone to fill your heart and your head with enough sense of how blessed you are and how you're actually supposed to pay your rent in this life by helping to make someone else feel blessed. Seriously, if you're rattling on about who you hate, check your head and your heart. You're better than that. Really.
All of this is coming from a good place. So is my wish that everyone gets a great December from Krampus or Santa or Black Pieter. Here's to a better 2018.
Much love,
Jas Faulkner
