The world hates a coward

People joke about being “Crazy” or a “Nut”. Sometimes they say they’re “Losing it”, or “Going mental”. They use terms and phrases like these to make others think they’re wild and unpredictable and edgy. Basically they’re trying to make themselves look more interesting than they really are.

Anyone who has to tell you something about themselves that should be obvious from the first meeting usually is anything but. For example, guys who talk tough are just the opposite, people who think they’re creative and artsy are actually dull as dishwater and people who think they’re crazy…same deal.

If you’ve ever really felt like you were going crazy, losing your mind, letting go of yourself, you’d never say those things. You’d never pretend.

To actually feel like you’re slipping into madness is terrifying, not fun, or hip, or cool. Hollywood has no clue and they’ve spent years trying to make it so. Losing it, being so overwhelmed by emotion that you have no control over your own body is horrible.

Its how I imagine dying violently might feel.

You cry and scream yourself hoarse. You thrash and pound your fists against anything without thinking about injury just to try and stop the deluge of feeling sweeping over you. You hyperventilate, your heart pounds so hard it seems fit to burst through your ribcage and your palms are clammy. You turn pale and sweaty and you don’t know where to pout your eyes.

And you wonder; “Is this what going crazy feels like? Oh my God, am I losing my mind? Ids this how it happens?”

Like I said, it’s anything but cool and nothing any sane person would ever want to be. It’s no way to live. You have no idea what to do. Comics have characters like The Joker, a crazy, wild, but ultimately acceptable kind of cool He seems free of any inhibitions the way the average 9 to 5er wishes he could be, or thinks he’d like to be but the fact is going crazy is nothing like that.

It’s a scientific fact that anyone at any time can have a psychotic break. Snap. Just like that. The mind is powerful and fragile at the same time. And that person can just “get over it” moments later after they’ve lashed out.

There was a man, a former cop from Jamaica, in a sanitarium in Brentwood, Long Island who slaughtered his wife. He loved her dearly but the stress of his job and all the shit he’d bottled up finally spilled over and he snapped. He tore her to pieces in a psychotic rage. This is all true. He knows he did it because he was shown photos of the crime scene and will spend the rest of his life, quite sane within the walls of that Brentwood sanitarium.

I’ve never gone crazy, but I know I got real close when I lost someone recently. I just lost control and felt myself slipping away. I watched myself freak out in my house, by myself and wondered if I was really going crazy.

But I got lucky and somehow it stopped…after an hour of straight crying and screaming and lashing out at solid surfaces.

And not once during that entire time did I think; “This is cool.” I thought, “Please don’t let this happen! Please bring me back!”

I don’t know what stopped the breakdown I was having, but it did just the same. Just like that.

I think maybe I felt irresponsible for going crazy while everyone else was suffering through it. I wasn’t the only one feeling the loss and I think that brought me back.

But I was so close. Closer than I’ve ever been or ever want to be.

So anyone tells you how crazy they are is full of shit. They don’t know what they’re talking about. No one wants that, not anyone responsible. Not anyone with a heart who cares about the people in their lives. Going crazy is giving up, giving in. Its psychic suicide.

Cowardice.

And the world hates a coward.

The God Delusion

It's been six months since I screamed.
Really screamed my guts out in rage and frustration and sadness. Guess that's a sign of how far I've come. Buddhism has helped but it's not a cure, I know that. I realized a little while ago that my sister's birth and death dates are two days apart. I fucking refuse to celebrate the day she was taken from me. I'll celebrate the day she was brought to me instead, but realizing that, for the first time, almost made me crazy.

Being hungry and having too much caffeine added to it I'm sure but the rage was still there ready to leap out.

I just screamed as hard and loud as I could and wasn't even concerned if anyone heard. Luckily no one was home. The dog's at the groomers and I'm here alone working and that fucked me up...that realization.

When I dropped Niko at the groomers this morning I noted privately how nice the weather was and a few moments later it hit me this is the first spring with Melanie.

And I fucking hated the concept of God right away. Hated Him or It or whatever the fuck religious types wanna call it.

I just have to get this out.

Believing in God was what made losing my sister THAT much worse. Because once it hit home that no one could save her I knew He didn't exist. It was the last piece of my innocence or my delusion, to go. That week, her last, there was a storm headed for Galveston Texas and I saw on the news these foolish people making a prayer line on a hilltop to try and pray away the storm.

Needless to say it didn't work. Neither did our prayers for Mel to get better, to be given a fucking chance for some experimental medicine.

She never got it.

I knew right there, if God wasn't going to save those people in Texas he damn sure wasn't going to save my sister.

I remember crying in the bathroom on the first floor of the hospital, right under the floor Mel was on and saying; "I guess you're not real after all." And it broke me because in my gut it felt completely true. I knew it in my bones. All we have is us. I know the spirit is real because I saw it leave my sister. I saw it in her and I saw the body when it was gone, so that's real.

The spirit of people.
That's what I can believe in, but some imaginary figure in then clouds? Never.

I can do right and be a good person without some delusion, some magical character that is supposed to heal all my hurts and solve all my problems and shower me with whatever when I die. Nonsense.

I'm human and I cry and get mad and laugh and love all the same with or without The God Delusion. I gotta get that book.

Buddhism helps because it teaches logic and responsibility and kindness towards others and compassion to all things. Catholicism taught guilt and shame and is corrupted from the roots up. Monks don't fuck little boys then pay off the families to keep quiet.

Buddhism has never killed anyone.

Dumping the God bullshit took my guilt with it. I don't feel it anymore for any reason and yet still I can do the right thing, but more importantly I can do it for myself which Catholicism never allowed room for. Always give give give but never think about yourself.

That's changed. Forever.

I'm mad my sister is gone. But its lessening with time and turning my back on the irresponsible mind set that God will take care of all your shit so long as you pray and toss money into a basket at church was the BEST move I ever made. It freed me.

I can feel good more often than bad nowadays but I still miss her with each new thing I have to experience without her here.

She still visits my dreams though, especially when things are bad. She visits me.

I can feel her when I wake. Those are the real dreams. The most recent and strongest one yet.

We were alone after some kind of family hangout and she asked,. almost mischievously; "So you been thinkin' about me?"

And I covered my mouth and sobbed "Everyday", but I knew she didn't hear me so I pulled my hand away and said it again, "everyday" and it felt so weak in the air that I said; "Every minute of every day."

I hugged her we cried and I got to say goodbye.

She told me "Everything I have is yours, unquestionably."

Then I saw my reflection in a mirror on the wall behind her back but it wasn't exactly my face. It was crying too. But it was clean shaven and the lips were too thin, but I am pretty sure it was me watching myself cry while hugging her. Then I couldn't see anything but her shoulder and her red hair.

Then I woke up with a start and my breath caught in my throat.

And it was a delayed reaction, the crying, but it came in little fits as I got out of bed quickly.

I cried and sucked air and cried and sucked air for about a half hour until it passed, but when it did I felt strangely ok.

I got to say goodbye and I loved her. I was worried earlier in the day that she might not have known, but that was foolish. She always knew.

She let me say goodbye and I had this weird energy from it all day.

I needed to remember that to help with the pain from earlier today.

Got to get back to work.

I've been to cons over the years but only for as long as it took to make the rounds, show my portfolio and get out of there. This year was the first time I really went to promote my comic, make some connections, find new leads, and actually ENJOY the event, which I did immensely.

I spent the entire day at Javitz on Saturday the 7th of Feb and a good chunk of the night networking at an Indie Creators after party which went better than I expected.

The con had a great vibe and people were polite and friendly all over regardless of how packed it was. Everyone was carrying a bag of some sort so bumping was common and not once did anyone come out of their face with some "Yo, you bumped me bullshit."

Now if that was a rap concert half the room would've broken out in gunfire.




I handed out more samplers than I thought I would and that really put me on a high. I felt accomplished in that respect. I networked my ass off and made the rounds and met some new people and was more confident than at previous cons where I'd just focus on portfolio reviews and shun the rest. I went tin there to get my geek on and have a good time and damn if I didn't. Nine hours on my feet carrying one helluva heavy bag and still it was great. I saw so much and this time was able to process it without being overwhelmed, which can easily happen your first time at Comic Con.

The place is an eyegasm for sure. Lots of celebs walking around like Aaron Douglas and Mirina Sirtis, Peter Mayhew, Lou Ferrigno, Michael Buffer, Joss Whedon,and a few others whose names escape me. If you're a fan of novels there were a ton of novelists there signing books and more comic artists than you can shake a stick at. Some old timers too like Carmine Infantino, and my old instructor Irwin Hasen (who is too old to remember me lol). Some new jacks were there like JG Jones and Phil Jimenez but I mostly just checked out artwork and kept it moving. I don't do autographs because I think its stupid and pointless. What am I gonna do with someone's signature?







It's funny, no one gets starstruck by comic artists unless you're at a con. To me, I admire a lot of the guys working there but its their art I care about, not them per se. A lot of talent at the con for sure.

Tons of people in costume on Saturday as it was costume contest day so that's always good for a laugh, but some of those people really made amazing costumes. Wish I had taken more shots but I was focused on handing out samples and hand shaking and networking so I left it up to memory to catalogue the good ones.

The people attending were really nice and that makes all the difference. Very polite, no shovers or nasty attitudes.







It felt nice hanging out with people who enjoy similar things. Felt comfortable. No one judges you there and all is accepted; from blue hair to weighing 350-400 lbs,its all god at the con. Social triggers don't apply there and people can be themselves without fear of ridicule of judgment by those who have no right to even open their mouths.

I loved talking my niece with me on Sunday. We had a great time running around with my cousin Tai shopping for shirts (and a knife I bought) and checking out all the crazy toys from Japan and all over. The food was crazy expensive so we brought our own or ran out to McD's. $5 for a can of soda is wallet rape.

I look forward to going to another one and am glad I stayed to soak up the whole thing. It's a great place with so many vendors and stars and artists and products on display. We saw new video games, new movies, new gadgets, comics, toys, shirts...man it was a mindful for sure.

I'll cherish this memory of the time I took my niece to her first comic con and I know my lil sister was there with me every step of the way.

I hope some worthwhile connections grow out of the experience.

Conjurer

Not a lot of ambiguity in this one. I got the idea a few days ago at close to one in the morning and started sketching even though I don't do late nights much anymore. The idea hit me hard, I liked the image and went right for it figuring I'd better not take a chance and lose the muse by assuming it would be around in the morning.

I suppose that mindset can be applied to life.

This is pretty much what I saw in my head while watching an episode of Legend of The Seeker, a fantasy tv series on the CW.

I wanted to try a different approach to coloring and inking. I chose to ink only the outline and build up the details with digital paint. Which, by the way, is still painting regardless of what the nostalgic snobs have to say about Photoshop. I paint with pixels and it has just as much merit as oils or acrylics or watercolors.

The tools don't matter so long as you create, fuck the elitists. They're usually the same ones who manage to churn out one painting every six months from their "personal pain".

And by the way, for you non art types, most of the fine artists I've met in my travels are as full of shit as you imagine them to be once they get going about the soul of their work and what they were trying to say.

People who tell you they're deep...are anything but, just like guys that tell you how tough they are wind up being the biggest pussies you ever met. Real knows real on sight and no explanation is necessary.

The next 20-30-something artist that catches an attitude with you because you "didn't get" what they were trying to say in their piece probably had nothing to say and just slapped a bunch of expensive oils on a canvas with the mindset that o layman would dare question the art before them for fear of looking foolish. It's An Emperor's New Clothes kind of thing with some fine artists. You're looking at a canvas of bullshit and know it deep down but society has you believing "poor anatomy" and "poor color use" automatically means "abstract and profound".

Strip away the Hollywood / Soho bullshit people. If you like what you see, that's it. If it invokes an emotional response then its art. If it needs cue cards then its horse shit wrapped in a gold bow.

Some motherfuckers out there just can't draw but want to seem deep and talented and blessed so they get drunk, or stoned, or coked up and hit a canvas with the supplies their parents gave them the money for.

I used to work in a gallery in Soho and saw some of the biggest pieces of shit sold for thousands of dollars because the cue card taped to the wall made the wine drinkers feel wise.

It's no sour grapes, it's just real. Most art experts are anything but. Do-ers do, others teach or sell.

I do.

The Truth

Two kids; Jimmy and Bobby, were hanging out. Jimmy told Bobby "If you wanna get money out of your family just go up to them and say, I know all about it!"

"Everyone has secrets, so even if you pretend to know them, they'll do anything to keep them hidden and give you money to stay quiet. Try it out, it works!"

So Bobby figured why not? and went home to give it a shot.

He went to his sister and said; "Sis, I know ALL about it!"

And she became very nervous. "Please, don't tell mom! Here, I'll give you five bucks to stay quiet!"

Bobby was very pleased. So he decided to go on and make more cash.

He went to his mother; "Mom, I know ALL about it!"

She became very nervous; "Please, don't tell your father! Here's ten dollars to stay quiet!"

Bobby was elated. He decided to try it again.

He went to his father; "Dad, I know ALL about it!"

His father actually had no idea what the boy was talking about but figured it was something he'd forgotten. "Don't tell your mom, son! Here's twenty bucks! Mums the word!"

Outside, Bobby was counting his cash and was delighted with himself. Then he saw the mailman and figured why not? I could always use more money.

So he went to the mailman and said "i know ALL about it!"

A look of shock crossed the mailman's face, then...a huge smile followed and he grabbed Bobby and hugged him tight.

"Oh SON, finally you know the truth!"

Respectfully,
P. Hernandez

Be sure to check out my artwork at
www.goofeesnax.com

I submitted a few tee shirt designs called Warrior Angel, Frank, Free, Death Before Dishonor, ZAP!, and Neo Taino to Threadless. com to be voted on and hopefully printed.


If I get enough high scores the shirts will be printed and sold from the site and I will win some prizes. Take a look at it and if you like it, sign up and give them a score.


Being that I submitted a few designs they sent me back a few links and rather than send out half a dozen e-mails I've collected the links in one message. Please click on any or all and vote for me.


ALSO feel free to send this message around to whoever you think might be interested.


I appreciate the help.


Here are the links:

http://www. threadless. com/submission/193468/Neo_Taino



http://www. threadless. com/submission/193466/ZAP



http://www. threadless. com/submission/193473/Frank



http://www. threadless. com/submission/193472/Free



http://www. threadless. com/submission/193475/Death_before_Dishonor



http://www. threadless. com/submission/193476/Warrior_Angel



http://www. threadless. com/submission/193468/Neo_Taino

(if the links aren't clickable then simply copy and paste them into your address bar, thanks guys!

Respectfully,
P.
Hernandez

Be sure to check out my artwork at
www. goofeesnax. com

lies burn

So the other day I got hit with some serious cabin fever and went for a walk while jamming to some tunes on my mp3 player. Got close to the mall and was thinking of picking up some mp3 speakers and this Marilyn Manson song came on "If I was your vampire" and I started seeing this face in my head in the throws of agony as a light form in the shape of a cross started frying his face. I immediately turned around and headed home.

Power walked actually. Got in, unwound, cleared my head and got right to it. I won't go into the title, that's for you guys to think about.

Great song, that Manson track. Was used for a shitty movie, Max Payne. Best thing about the movie turned out to be that song.

My sister, Melanie would've loved this pic. In fact, she probably saw it before it was out of my head.