What a timely topic, in light of Robin Williams' tragic passing and the chaos in Ferguson and more awful news in the world which I'm sure are happening but I refuse to even go and look, because they are likely to lock me in depression. Depression. The dingy surly greyness sullied by black smudges of an almost irresistible desire to quit it. Quit it all together. Why live? The world is such an awful cruel place. We all seem to be shouting on every corner how we want to be loved and to love, and at the same time carry guns and find every bit of an excuse to use them "to protect our freedom" or whatever the mantra is. "I"m protecting my manicured lawn." "Don't fucking trespass on my property." Don't do this, don't do that. Why does this concern artists so much? Why do we get so wound up seeing things like this happening? You know why? I'll explain.
Artists are extremely sensitive people. You might call us crazy, or ADD, or bipolar, or whatever psychological disorder is in fashion in the media currently. Why? Why do we appear this way? We are normal, except for one thing.
WE HAVE NO SKIN.Read More