final draft

afraid of getting caught



Just to have you know we´re all mad here; everything is nonsense and if it does make sense one day you´ll probably be mad as well.



I heard him get out of bed early; he thought he wouldn´t make a sound. Daniel left me all alone in a big old house. I used to feel comfortable when no one else bothered me and now I felt restless and confused at the same time.



It must have been around five or six in the morning because the sun wasn´t up yet. I headed downstairs to my studio and everything seemed to be in place; at the least the way I´d left it the night before. Fifteen out of twenty-two paintings were finished and they were due until early November.



He wouldn´t come back for he took all his belongings and in such bad timing. We had this heated discussion over some shit which culminated in lewdness. He was becoming more of a huge distraction than a help.



In my despair I threw myself against the wooden floor and hit it with my bare hands.



"Fuck."



Then I noticed that one of the boards was loose and as I lifted it up I unearthed the token of my childhood; a black composition diary. I hid it from Daniel´s prying eyes.



"This belongs to: Adrian Black. Take good care of it or it will take care of you."



Strange. The last time I wrote there I was sixteen and like now it was at a bad time. I was running away and didn´t want to get caught at least by my dad. My mother and I became closer; she would be my confident for I discovered a great joy in life; to feel loved. It was a damn shame only a handful of people understood it because it came from another boy.


I kept this book with me for I promised myself I would continue writing until I became a decent and successful human being. I continue to be indecent but for sure I´m so goddamn successful.


Like now but this is New York and you can be whoever you wanna be. The fate is in the name; I am everything and nothing at the same time.



I´ll close my heart for now and I´ll open this book again. It´s not the story of my life but just a collection of emotions and ideas. Thus if you want to know where I came from I will tell you.




I was and owner of a voracious creativity which led me to become an artist.All I ever wanted was to be seen and heard as if it wasn´t enough being gorgeous; I was endowed with a pale skin, black hair that went down to the neck, crystalline green eyes and thin lips.


My biggest flaw has always been my shyness but I´m a good listener; I only speak when it´s absolutely necessary and if bothers someone I turn away.




The following day was rather busy; I had to find a replacement for Daniel; my assistant and ex lover. I pondered a thousand times why he had left me in the middle of this project, maybe something scared him off.


I made this quick post to be answered in the social networks like it´s done today. I preferred men to come and work for me but this time I needed someone who wouldn´t distract me that much;  in the end I chose a rather simple girl.



Her name was Edith Paige; she was in her sophomore year in Steinhardt. She was twenty-one and I would be thirty the next year.



She looked inoffensive in pictures; she had this big sparkling sapphire blue eyes, puny lips yet a bit pale and scrawny.



I had this habit of seldom leaving my neighborhood and despised the bustling streets of Soho; once it was an artist´s haven now a huge outdoor mall.



Like I cared. Sometimes the best catalyst for my work were simply the right background music and a bottle of red wine.



And wrath; the one that keeps growing with every heartbreak.



we´re in this together now





It was a Friday afternoon around four o´clock. It had drizzled as it was expected in September.

My loft was right above a sort of psychic shop that belonged to a family of Egyptian immigrants. I went to see Mrs. Ava every now and then for spiritual advice. She said I was the Devil and I was hopeless.


Edith came in very punctual and looked slightly nervous. Most of her outfit consisted of light blue tones and simple ponytails. I could tell right away she wasn´t a snobby, pretentious femme but perhaps more down to earth.



Unlike me.



Redundant as it may seem I preferred black, plus it went well with my hazel green eyes.



"Hello, Doll, " I said as I greeted. "Did you have any trouble finding the place?"



"Oh, not at all; actually it´s right around the corner for me."



"Are you sure? I´m just kidding. I´m Adrian Black, by the way."



"Edith Paige; sometimes I go by Edie."



"Interesting...as in Edie Sedgwick."



"Yeah," she smiled, "but I´m nothing like her, trust me."



"Just making small talk; come upstairs, I´ve lot to show you."





She approached with the curiosity of a child asking all sorts of random questions all the way to my apartment.



"I loved the collective you were on at the Gagosian last year."



"I have been very lucky to be noticed by the likes of them; but smartass critics always tear me apart. So, what is your major again?"



"Studio Art. I read this is where the late Edward K. used to live."



"It´s true and I bet you might have heard the tall tales that circled around him."



"Not really; I just know he was Jewish and a great Kandinsky scholar."



"Yeah but he took his theories way too literally, at least from the few stories I heard from the people who lived here."



"How is that?"



"He claimed that the spirits commanded him to paint and that there was evil in his work. Unfortunately that landed him into a bad spotlight ."



"Personally I think he was more of a charlatan. I hope I´m not making you feel uncomfortable; did you admire Edward K.?"



"I never heard about him until a few years ago; when I was younger I dreamed of being the next Basquiat."



"Really?"



"No. I come from a small town where they hardly know about these things. My dad used to say that "American Gothic" was fine art until I proved him wrong."



"But it is!"



"Not for me. I like to make people feel things and not focus on details."



"Well it´s still amazing anyway."



"You haven´t seen it all. We´re here!"



Away from all the high-end shops and decadent flair of Soho was my private fifty-five hundred square foot lair which was a literal flashback to the nineties. My comrades lived in a large set of vinyls and CD´s which were most of the time old Johnny Cash and Nine Inch Nails.


My workplace on the other hand could be classified as a crime scene mostly by the acrylic dripped walls. Other than that I liked to keep everything in its right place. I had drawers full of sketches and pictures of different formats which I used for reference. Most of these were created digitally and enlarged to be used as stencils. Stacks and stacks filled with canisters of paints and solvents only I could tell apart and seldom to be moved.


The remaining space was saved to a large leather couch to rest or lounge or...you know. In the corner of the room was my vinyl record player and an antique oval-shaped mirror of the Art Nouveau period and a projector; little perks for an eccentric artist like me. This was the melting pot of my dark mind.


"There are two levels and a terrace up here. It´s like a freaking mansion with ghosts and all."



"Why are you saying that?" she laughed, "are you trying to scare me to death?"



"No; I´m dead serious. There´s something bad here. No one believes it, of course but it´s an amusing story to welcome all of my guests."



The entrance or foyer consisted of a large brick wall decorated with a copy of a painting I entitled "Home." The theme was a giant hole with a mixed media technique mostly acrylic and in the style of abstract expressionism.



"So you say this is a copy, where´s the original one?"



"It was sold to some art collector in London. I was lucky that she appreciated my earliest work. Alice Morris, I believe."



"That´s incredible!"



"Come; I´ll show you the way to kitchen because I could really use a drink. What´s your poison?"



"Oh, no thanks, really."



"I insist but don´t worry I don´t bite. My teeth might be too worn out anyway."



"You have a big imagination, Adrian."



"Yeah, among other things."




I wasn´t writing very often in this wicked diary because I was incredibly busy. I dropped a few lines whenever I had the chance or late at night.


The girl was a fast and eager learner. Another leech who would absorb all of my knowledge. Her style was reminiscent of Ryden but more naive and I was going to make sure that was going to forever changed.



As soon as I earned Edie´s confidence I opened up beyond our everyday work conversations.This happened within a matter of two weeks after she moved in.



She was a swell assistant and at some point I had to explain to her some tasks that Daniel used to do for me such as preparing canvases. It became almost unevitable to invoke him and this happened one afternoon in my studio.



"So tell me more about Daniel if you don´t mind."



I became startled but proceeded to handle it cynically; one of my many clever ways I adopted ever since I came to live here.



"Just some deadbeat who tried to take advantage of me and steal my thunder."



"Is that all?" she asked and looked into my eyes, "Don´t worry; I know all about your extracurricular activities."



"Is that a fact?"



"Come on! I did some outside investigation myself; online to be exact. Do you think I would have accepted this internship just like that?"


"Alright, so you do know a thing or two; why are you here?"


"Well for starters, I need experience, second; I´m not looking forward to a serious relationship at the moment and third; this place has more history than you can ever imagine in your filthy life. "


"Fine, I can deal with that."


"So?"


I sighed, "It was just a fling."


"He wasn´t the only one, was it?"


"Alright, yes.Some of my former assistants have ended up in my bed. Could you pass me that bottle of gesso?"


"Sure."


"It´s not like it´s gonna happen all the time but Daniel was, special."


"Oh..." said Edith as she unfolded some of the canvases. "How special?"


"What is this, an interrogation? Anyway, I thought I felt something for him; it reminded of a younger, more daring version of me as if he wasn´t afraid of anything."


"And what are you afraid of?"


"Until a few days ago being left alone."


"Did you love him that much?"


I gave a long pause.


"Well did you?" she continued.


"I guess I did. At least he made me feel again when I had chosen not to. Don´t think I´m cold-hearted or something like that. I agreed to take you under my wing because the school considers me serious and not gimmicky.What other things have you heard about me?"


"That you´re a vampire because you only come out at night?"


"That´s basically every gay man."



An age old wound opened up; an array of bad feelings hit me like I was being whipped on the back. Part of the reasons for not writing in my diary anymore was for the fear of being exposed.


I had a cuasi girlfriend in high school named Lisa Summers. She was the daughter of a minister in the Methodist Church while I was raised Catholic.


Elyria was one those many towns in Ohio where you could easily find a church in every corner just like a convenience store.


But not true salvation; at least for me. What was that rubbish anyway? No one could ever save me from her. They say Lisa would help me to stay on the right track.


And mysterious was she;


"Still she haunts me, phantomwise,


Alice moving under skies


Never seen by waking eyes."


When she found out I was gifted, among other things she asked me to make a portrait of her. She had this long jet black hair with bangs; her skin was rosy and had freckles on her bosom, thin lips and wide brown eyes that penetrated your soul.


My faithful companion back then was a siamese cat named Sade, like the marquis. She held it with ease and sat with him until I finished the drawing but he ended up hating her.


Curious.


I decided to show it in art class to this teacher of mine who had a hippie-esque vibe. She gave the most helpful piece of advise that would shape my entire career:


"Don´t waste your time painting portraits of prissy little girls. Instead struggle to find and conquer your inner demons and project them across the canvas and you´ll become a winner."


My teacher would have never guessed that wanna be goth girl turned out to be one of those inner demons. She befriended me because of who I was and how I looked. While she pretended to be a daddy´s little girl she was downright rotten.


She hurt me and I hurt her back.




FRIGHT-DAY


The weekdays seemed exactly the same to me; I guess you could figure that out very easily from the way I write.


Or maybe not. I don´t blame you; I´m not a gifted writer perhaps a seer, a visionary. There were very little words to describe what happened that Friday night so I´ll try my best to explain.


Edie had gone out with some friends while I was working hard on another piece which initially called, "The Rabbit of the Infinite Strength." It was loosely based on a sketch I had left in my diary.


For this acrylic I decided to use my new set of bristle brushes the way someone unsheathes a sword. This was tentatively the main piece of my entire collection. It encompassed all I ever longed for excluding love.


Strength and courage was what I needed to carry on.


I considered these moments a kind of ritual so I shut myself in and set the mood with the proper music.


I felt unhibited.




It seems that every moment that I spent inside these walls were like being in a cage even though the doors had always been open.


Except for the heart. This time I wasn´t thinking only about ill-fated relationships but what could have been.


Well fuck that.


"Oh, ho ho


Oh, we'll smoke the blighter out


We'll put the beast to rout


Some kindling, just a stick or two


Ah, this bit of rubbish ought to do


We'll smoke the blighter out!


We'll smoke the monster out!


We'll roast the blighter's toes


We'll toast the bounder's nose


Just fetch that gate


We'll make it clear


That monsters aren't welcome here!


Without a single doubt


We'll smoke the monster out!


We'll smoke the monster out!"


My rabbit was red like blood; the tone when it gushes out of you. In its forehead was the symbol of infinity.


When Lisa Summers found it she made a fuzz about it and I put it aside for later. She claimed it was "too childish."


And gruesome. It was the only thing I could hold on to when I originally made it. I had plenty of reasons to withdraw strength; to face my own father from sending me to Hell with his words, from having touched another man´s lips...


I closed my eyes and threw my hands over my face.


"Boy, I sure hope those are not blood stains you have on your hands," said a voice.


"Who´s there?" I asked agitated.


"I told you I was coming, didn´t I?"


That was Daniel´s voice. Finally he texted me but I never asked him to come back. Apparently he kept a spare key and walked in like he owned the place. He was lower than me, slightly bronzed skin and wore insanely tight clothes. He resembled some cutie pie you could pick up on the streets.


"Why the Hell are you asking me these questions?" I said.


"Because if I didn´t know any better it appears that you were about to use your blood for that painting. I couldn´t miss that for the world."


"So what if I did? You haven´t been returning my calls and have practically blocked me everywhere online."


"You´re a coward; that´s why and a fake! Here you are pretending you can charm anyone with your eeriness when you can´t even be true to yourself."


"What?"


"If you had the balls to do it back then how come you don´t do it now?"


"Because even in this crazy world there are rules, Danny boy and you sound like you wanna break all of them before you learned anything."


"It was just a simple joke, Adrian, can´t you take a hint?"


"Was it also a joke to walk off just like that, huh?"


"Aww...you really miss me? You´re getting sentimental on me. I have something you will never have unless you decide to fight for it."


"What?"


"Artistic freedom. I came by to tell you that I´m leaving for good; I got an offer in LA where there´s a more refreshing mentality."


"Fine, nobody´s stopping you..."


"Will you listen to yourself? At least I know that I want to break free from this dying city while you´re holding on to it day by day. You could come with me if you´d like."


"My business is here and I make my own decisions. It may have taken longer than usual but it happened."


"I believed in you. I fell for all your philosophy full of beautiful decadence and what do you do? You bow down to all the people I despised."


"So that´s it? You think I betrayed you and that´s why you want me out of your life?"


"Congratulations! If you still give a fuck you will do what we talked about. It´s just a painting."


"It´s not like that, you idiot! I´m not some part of a travelling freak show. I have a reputation; I´m not like that guy who used to live here."


"Oh, you´re making a huge drama over this; maybe I should do it for you."


I tackled and used all my might to avoid him to spoil my work with his unorthodox ideas.


As he laid his cold hands and grasped my shoulders I said in a lower voice, "I won´t go until I see you do it."


"And then what?"


"You can have whatever you want from me. You can´t get that from that girl..."


"You´re downright sick."


"No more than you are."


He unzipped my pants. I was powerless and I couldn´t get his hands off me so he threw me with all his might against the wall. He stroke his body against mine and slowly worked his way down my bony waist and fuck me from behind.


"You always knew exactly what I wanted and where I wanted it and how I wanted it..." I said.


"Excellent."


I was getting awfully hot and confused. "Man, I miss you..."


"No you don´t."


I was twisting and panting heavily feeling him closer to me. I failed to say a word and just enjoyed the ride.


"Oh, God, that feels great! You truly are gifted; you belong up there with the great ones...and that´s why you should come away with me."


"Not a chance..."


He came inside me with ease. "See you around."


It didn´t take him long to dress up and turn away like a criminal.

But I couldn´t take it anymore so I headed out to the terrace and leaned on the balcony watching the evening sky. There was very few signs of night owls and the streets were rather calm. It seemed rather unsettling.


As I threw my hands over my face my eyes started watering. Mother always said these were the signs of a nervous breakdown; I was too stupid to give in to his ways.


"Oh, God, how could I let this happen?" I said to myself. "He used me."


The rain came unannounced and began and the few drops were bitterly cold. I didn´t even care if I was shirtless at that moment.


I could blame it on my drunkeness or the frustration but I knew that this was a very unhealthy combination.


I was alone and disconsolated; it seemed the orgasm didn´t help that much. I stood there and got soaked for I don´t know how long.


That was until Edith found me.


"Adrian, finally! I´ve been looking for you all over the place plus I noticed you left the front door open."


"Yeah, I´m out here. So was it?"


"Oh, not much; I bumped into this guy I used to date in high school; it´s funny how you end up seeing old faces in such a big city."


"It happens a lot; don´t be surprised."


"Are you alright? You better get inside; it´s cold, you know."


"Yeah, thanks, Doll," I said as I sobbed.


"What´s wrong?" she asked sounding worried.


"I´m just tired and stressed out, that´s all."


"Well, do you wanna talk about it?"


"No; I´ll be fine."


What a hypocrite I was by saying that but I wasn´t ready to confess these trivialities in front of her. I feared she wouldn´t understand.


"Come on; you sound like you´re a mess."


"You look nice, by the way."


"Thanks. You don´t look so good yourself. I´ll take you to your room and you´ll tell me all about it in the morning."


"I´ll try."


"Fine. You act like you saw a ghost or something."


"Maybe I did."





rabbit in your h



Whatever happened after that was a blur; I had lost control of my emotions yet I felt safe around her; she was empathetic and kind and I wasn´t worthy of all that.


It was roughly three in the morning when I was taken into the emergency room because of breathing problems. Later it was explained to me that these were early signs of pneumonia.


I did have some revealing dreams in which I kept seeing a younger version of me constantly running , sometimes away from home.


I followed the Black Rabbit through a field where the grass was tall . His eyes were red and he was incredibly swift almost like floating.


"Come, my friend," he said in a friendly tone, "you look rather tired from all that running."


"Where are you going?" I asked.


"You musn´t be afraid of that...there is no pain and no one will judge you ever again."


"I hate being alone all the time..."


"Then you´re safe with me."


He suggested that I´d jump into the Black River and though the current was mild it was deep as the ocean itself.


I gasped.


When I came to my senses I realized I was in a hospital room breathing oxygen through a mask. The room was empty and dark. There were large windows which exhibited a gloomy afternoon. I was weak and apathetic, even anxious for being away from home.


"It´s time for your medication, Mr. Black," said the voice of an old woman.


"Who´s there?" I asked agitated.


"The name´s Marla; I´m the nurse for the night shift.


"Oh great; where´s Edith, did she say if she was coming?"


"You mean that girlfriend of yours who came in here yesterday?"


"She´s not my girlfriend but she saved my life."


"Sure she´s not." The nurse had a strange uniform on, probably from the 1960´s; a knee high dress and a mob-cap, tall and stout. "You should be thankful for having a girl like that and do your part every now and then."


"What do you mean?"


"Correspond her! Now pull out your arm."


"You know nothing about me and I´m not willing to discuss that with a stranger. What´s this stuff anyway?"


"Knowledge," she said.


"WHAT?"


I ignore how that happened; I added it to the pile of hallucinations. Luckily when I snapped out of it she was there; the one I truly wanted to see.


"Tell me this is not another dream," I said.


"Because I´m here," said Edith, "And I´m the voice of your conscience. You´ve been here almost three days!"


She looked somewhat concerned. I remember she told me she felt uncomfortable around hospitals.


"I don´t understand anything," I said with some difficulty.


"No, you don´t because you´re still on meds. That was a very rough night by the way. You gave me quite a shock."


"I wasn´t aware I was that sick to end up here."


"That´s ok; at least you survived. Adrian, I´d like to ask you something else if you don´t mind."


"Go ahead..."


"That Friday night seemed confusing; were you really all by yourself before I came back?"


"No."


"Oh, good! Because I remember quite well you asked me to lock up. It´s not exactly for being paranoid; it could have been a minor detail. Anyway, since I have certain privileges to go around your studio I noticed there was um, how should I say it, sexual activity going on."


"Great..."


"I´m not playing detective or anything like that; it was just so evident. This "ex" business is sure hitting pretty hard, huh?"


"It wasn´t supposed to end that way," I sighed deeply.


"What´s done is done. Look, I understand you and I truly wanna help. Now that we are getting to know each other I think...that you´re depressed."


"Call it what you want but the term "depression" is truly overrated nowadays."


"Oh so, I´m not allowed to use those words around you like it´s some sort of f-worst? You´re human just like the rest of us. This is the proof."


"Please don´t spread this around; I´m in the middle of something important and I need the attention. The media wants to see a strong character to go with its work, not some neurotic kid who´s afraid of everything."

"Alright. I know he´s become a sort of obstacle but you have to stand up for yourself. We´re in this together now; I don´t care if you give me credit for this. I may not be like Daniel but I am willing to work as hard as he did to make this exhibit something amazing."

"He didn´t work that hard..."

"Whatever; so do we have a deal?"

"Yes."



This was one of the very few times I actually admitted that a woman was right at something; I´ve been tripping with the same stone too many times. I guess this event was my wake up call, hitting rock bottom, or whatever you wanna call it. Beyond feeling used I was

ABUSED, as in self abuse.

How can a breakup bring you down so low to commit self harm? I was under the impression that it ended in slitting your wrists or taking a shitload of pills or something.

In my case I tormented myself with bad memories, lack of sleep, ill communication and lots of liquor to go with it.



----------------

interview from CB Art Magazine; winter edition.



AT THIS POINT IN YOUR LIFE CAN YOU DEFINE YOUR ART AS SURREAL, MR. BLACK?


"Surreal is just an excuse some people add to things that look very far-fetched but very handsome at the same time. It´s supposed to have a strong effect on the viewer, and if doesn´t then it´s meaningless. I tossed many of my own works because of that. And something surreal doesn´t always has to be pleasant."


LIKE WHEN YOU DRAW THINGS OUT OF YOUR NIGHTMARES?


"I´ve had some very potent dreams and haven´t woken up from them, does that mean they´re pleasant? I´ve seen myself drenched in blood and I think that every sane mind knows that should be something to be concerned about. I haven´t painted those things yet, if so they would hang me."


THUS YOU BECOME MORE SELECTIVE WITH THE THEMES...


"Why should one censor ideas that quickly? It´s like an abortion, but you do it unconsciously because you´ve been already trained to do it for generations. It´s not the same thing when one kills an insect just because you feel it´s threatening. Those things are taught even at school. We grow afraid of inner demons and angels. If we fear it, we don´t touch it, but at the same time we award more power to it. I guess that proves your point."


DO YOU BELIEVE YOUR ART HAS BEEN CENSORED SOMETIMES?


"No, but I have contained it..."


But I couldn´t contain myself anymore. After a couple of weeks I was free to go home but I had to avoid getting heavily exposed to the crazy weather.


Nevertheless I had some works almost finished and after careful analysis they all had a rabbit included in them.


It was the first time I decided to bring it to the real world; it had bothered me so much it was sickening me. Let´s hope that counted as actual therapy. I agreed to show them at a local gallery, Chloe Smith, my agent insisted. "A MAJOR COMEBACK," I suppose, from what, from the dead? Then again, when I think about it I was already agonizing and I wasn´t aware of it until now.

Lots of times I avoided the sunlight because it announced the beginning of another long day, and I had literally nothing valuable to do since some essential things were done for me. So an emptiness came to rape my mind and I was drained from inspiration.


I despise those so-called artists like Danny Boy who live under the shadows of the great ones; they polluted me.

Every person who gets involved in this industry has this fixation that they´ll someday come up with their masterpiece, thus they work hard on that dream until it comes true. Yet, in reality it doesn´t happen quite like that. For me it´s been more about the technique, like a journey to the bottom of the sea, the deeper you go the more you feel. Like a very intense orgasm. Now there´s a fucking masterpiece. Can´t reveal if I did this last thing on my own or with someone else...


"It´s so good to hear your voice again, son."


That was my mother. She called and lectured me about caring for my health, but these days I´m more concerned about my mental health.


"I see you have a new assistant now, why did you hire a girl this time?"


"It´s so much easier; it´s not pleasure, just work. Besides, I´m helping her out with career."


"That sounds very good; are you taking your meds?"


"I´m supposed to but the side effects are giving me a hard time if you know what I mean," and then I gently caressed my stomach.


"Is that why you´re in a bad mood today?"


"Hell no! Though I feel like I drained many things off my system these last few days."


"I see. Well have some patience, Dear; these things need to be handled with care."


"What things?"


"You know..."


I like that warning, "HANDLE WITH CARE" I should put a sign with it over myself.


I sat down on the maplewood floor as I was opening my diary and flipped through pages of earlier years...some spirals showed up, they looked more like a rabbit hole, or it could stand for other things, I´m not sure.

That´s the beauty of art; there are no right or wrong answers, that´s why they can never accuse you of implanting evil ideas in people´s heads. The meaning is obtained after careful observation and from there on it becomes a symbol. So, I see no harm in putting rabbits in whatever situations I can possibly imagine. It means nothing until you want.


--------------

A diary is not like a story like I advised since the very beginning; there is no particular order in it. There are only events that I consider relevant to me in here like a chest full of my favorite things.

During my slow recovery, secluded at home like an animal in a cage, I continued to have one intense dream after another.

I this one, which was more of a lucid dream I sat down and stared at the mirror in my studio. I was wearing some kind of a gray shirt, when I noticed some little girl wanted my attention and I gave her the cold shoulder. I couldn´t make out much details because I wasn´t looking directly at her.

Then I remember going downstairs to the kitchen. It looked like the one in my old home in Elyria and there sat this lonely boy dressed in black at the head of the table.

As I had some breakfast with him I gave him some special advice. The boy felt better but the girl who I was ignoring said hi to me and I ignored her for the second time.

I needed some peace so I went back to my bedroom with my ´wife´, uh, which was Edith, of course.

I´m no guru so everyone can come to me for infinite wisdom, I’m just a very lucky guy who’s still discovering for what he’s worth.

-------------

The afternoon went slow;I looked ar the time in my phone and it was 1:11 PM. Edith got me back into the habit of keeping track of time again because it was becoming scarce.

But there was a time when it made me horribly anxious; I kept looking at it every five goddamn minutes and when I did I became paralyzed.

Or paranoid; afraid of everything including going out.

When Edward K., a painter of Jewish origin came to live in this building he spent most of his time alone just like me. The disencouraging part was that it happened in a moment of his life when he moved away from his wife and kid. He claimed to have powerful visions about a tragic future.

Then he became wrapped up in studying the work of Kandinsky who had been close friends to a certain Madame Blavatsky; a gifted seer and leader of the Theosophic Society.

He also happened to research about her practices down in New York City and claimed that this exact place was where she held seances or sessions to invoke spirits and such. Edward K. mistook these findings and began to create his own art at unconventional hours between three to five in the morning.

It was accidental in the beginning but the results were something incredible to look at. The use of color was bold and dinamic. There were strokes that suggested internal battles perhaps of the mind.

Although he gained fame quickly and had a very prolific period, somewhere between 1973 through 1983 he progressively damaged his reputation by becoming elitist.

"Only the chosen will understand for here is their mission."

Lunatics.

Ever since then this art was considered highly suggestive and even worse than pornography. Mr. K. gained many copycats who were quickly rejected.

By the time I came to consider renting the space they flooded me with all sorts of questions whether I was another fanatic of this painter. I simply showed them what I had done within the past five years and they were very pleased.

And shocked. So in the end it was agreed that any attempt to produce any single piece that resembled the work of Mr. King was to be frowned upon and with it my stay in this beautiful sanctuary.

As simple as that. No shenanigans of any sort. That´s why many aspiring artists considered some kind of hero and begged me to make these unholy things.

You may ask yourself; how could some art expert know the difference between a regular painting and a so called "spiritual" painting?

Because of certain patterns or recurring elements. When I told Edith all of this nonsense she thought it was all smoke and mirrors.

Au contraire. When I told her how the man died she freaked out. We had a nice, casual conversation over lunch.

"I´m sorry but this all sounds like one of those urban legends you read online," she said.

"Evidently, " I said, "have some more wine. It´s Spanish Cabernet from 2009."

"Thanks, I´m not much of a drinker myself."

"I wasn´t implying that at all. I know what you´re talking about, by the way. If I didn´t know any better they could have turned this place into an attraction and make a huge profit."

"Yeah, if they could they´d do it."

"Do you believe in the supernatural?"

She paused, "Oh no, not really."

"Seriously, you never sat around the campfire and told ghost stories, that sort of thing?"

"No!"

"Where were you raised then?"

"Okay, do you really wanna know? I was born in Ann Arbor."

"That where Iggy Pop began to play."

"Really?"

"And you came all the way up here because..."

"I was accepted; that´s all. And I´m hoping to work my way up to be a curator. I´d like to be more behind the scenes than the actual painting."

"I trust you."

"Who is putting this all together, by the way?"

"A good friend of mine named Mark. You´ll meet him soon.




















Perfect Day

I´m Adrian Black, like the color although black is technically the sum and the abscence of color depending where it´s applied. I am everything and nothing at all and can reinvent myself if it pleases me.
I stopped writing in these pages since I was like sixteen. Most of it was because I simply didn´t care anymore.The pressure and humilliation was so huge. So I made a promise; that I would continue recording my experiences until I became a famous person who successfully escaped from my sleepy little hometown.
I was running away and I can´t even remember why. I could think of a million reasons and probably it was myself I despised so much, wishing I wasn´t brought into this world. Then one day out of the blue came a dark figure infused with so much anger that I would happily embrace; a symbol of my darkest passions and a  giver of infinite strength.
Like the one I was painting at the moment.
SEPTEMBER 2011
It was late at my house around eleven o´clock. The air smelled humid and it was about to rain. Edie was asleep because she worked and studied day and night. She is not my girlfriend but I let her into my life anyway. A smart, curious woman she is like Alice who once fell down the rabbit hole.
I had been a rabbit; a prisoner in a dark Wonderland, a slave to many queens and kings. A silent, harmless creature who wanted nothing but affection and got great attention in return. This wasn´t even enough to define love. I never had any of that, just torture. If I didn´t feel pain I had nothing but it was the catalyst for my emotions which I carefully translated onto a canvas.
And music in the background, and a bottle of wine.
piggy
I was working on a new collection for an opening of an art gallery in Chelsea, in Manhattan.
I was currently living in Soho on a penthouse loft on Mercer Street. It was located above a psychic shop run by an old egyptian family which I visited every now and then. Next to it were high end shops made to look just like an outdoor mall. I could care less about that. Sometimes all I needed was an afternoon with Edith in the coffee shop on the corner of Prince Street.
As you can see I seldom left my neighborhood spending hard time in my studio, secluded most of the time and avoiding getting distracted. Being left alone was ideal to me but especially that night I felt
CONSUMED.
The moments when I was more productive were between the hours of ten to three in the morning. Anyone who has ever worked with me was aware of that rule; I couldn´t be bothered at all.
I would blame the sound of the rain for triggering memories I had buried for so long and now threathened to slow me down.
Or it could have been something else like a trance. Whatever it was it made me restless.
A storm was coming and I went out to the terrace to get soaked.
"I have to finish this" I kept saying in a lower voice. "Nothing can stop me now."
Edith heard me and went outside as well. She had a light blue top and cardigan. I had shirt no on and had no guilt for being under such terrible weather.
"Adrian, it´s pouring and cold; please come inside," she said as she shrugged.
"Sorry, I didn´t realize it was so bad."
"Are you sure you´re alright?"
"Yeah, don´t be afraid or anything; maybe I could explain later."
"Fine, take care."
That was a warning that I was about to experiment violent changes and not what she probably had in mind.
 After I finally got some decent sleep in my own bedroom I had this intense dream. In it I travelled back to Elyria as if I was paying a visit to my old man

Edith Paige was like the storybook Alice; she was raven-haired with bangs, milky white skin, blue eyes, underdeveloped.

Edie was a swell tenant. She asked me why would I could choose for a girl who has nothing to do with the art world to live here. It was simply because she wouldn´t be such a huge distraction. Later on I would refer to her as my "non-artistic follower" with my colleagues in reference to the insane regulations of Soho living.
She was in her final year in Psychology at NYU but we had met when she was a freshman.
And a fighter. I could sense she was running away from home and her conservative family.
Edie was always more careful with the way she behaved around me and I was like an open book; my crystalline green eyes couldn´t hide the sadness.

I lost the habit of writing a journal since I was sixteen; it was because I made a promise that I would continue it when I became a famous and successful painter.
Well it all came true but it was absolutely necessary to leave Elyria, the town that I grew up in to establish myself in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Manhattan.
I was named Adrian; only child of Mary and Adam Black, hard working, conservative citizens. I was born with these enchanting olive green eyes but was rather scrawny and pale.
The "quiet one" they always called me; at school, church, even the elders who lived downtown knew who I was. That easily became compensated with an insatiable appetite to record everything on paper.
Everywhere I went I carried a backpack full of loose paper and pencils. It became more frequent when I was six or seven years old. I used to take long walks around Cascade Park near the Black River.
And when there wasn´t much to draw I read a lot. What else could a lonely child do with so much imagination in a boring place anyway?
That´s when I discovered the strangest and most gruesome creature; the Black Rabbit of Inle; the messenger from the underworld from a book called Watership Down. I learned that it meant Death and it would follow me around wherever I went.

Consumed

My name is Adrian Black, only son of Mary and Adam Black and was born on the city of Elyria, Ohio; a town that had seen better days. A place where many grew up on but probably will never go back to.
Like me.
Because I was an exceptional child blessed with beauty, a voracious creativity and the infused fear of death.
This last one might have occurred because I lost my grandpa when I was about six or seven years old. We were very close and used to take me for long walks in Cascade Park.
Since then I secluded myself at home tormented by the thought of something wicked out there waiting to come and get me. Then in a dream it took the shape of the Black Rabbit; the infamous servant of the underworld from Watership Down.
My last name is my fate. Black is not a color: it´s the sum of all the colors and the abscence of all at the same time. I am nothing and everything at all.
I was everything I always wanted to be; a successful young painter based in New York with a big studio in the heart of Soho and about to present my greatest achievement in my career.
To quote Mattise, one my biggest inspirations, “An artist should never be a prisoner of himself, a prisoner of style, a prisoner of a reputation, a prisoner of success.”
I always thought I would live up to these expectations; to feel like I was in control yet such a thing needed to be won.
Fot the first time I felt wanted and was worshipped by many but on that particular September night at home I was
CONSUMED.
Daniel Hyde, a former assistant of mine commited the crime of falling in love with me. He was also very sure to have possessed me to the point of reaching creative control.
Until I beheaded him, metaphorically speaking, just fired.
The feeling of love has a friend that shows up every now and then called tragedy. And since tragedy is close to the concept of Death it´s pointless to me and it slows me down.
It didn´t mean that I was a cold-hearted monster; I was just very disciplined. And it was here, in this decadent city that I would find the meaning of life. It wouldn´t be hidden in the depths of the crowded subways or in the words of some über experimented film critic; it was down a rabbit hole.

Daniel was about five years younger than I was and I fished him out of bunch of attention whores especially from NYU where I came from. Sometimes it was a steady, live in job, at others times per project.
I couldn´t deny he had the hots for me since day one  He was five foot ten, kind of scrawny, hazel brown eyes, dark toussled hair and a sweet ass.
At first he was very diligent and punctual trying to impress me and earn my respect. It was a damn good privilege already to live under such and expensive and constrained neighborhood. In the old days it was an artist´s haven and everyone was allowed to crash and pitch in every once in a while.
What he lacked in age he made up for in debauchery; he was my Mad Hatter and with him I attended one tea party after another. No harm done until then; I had a reputation to sustain and it continues to be flawless.
I was working hard on a new collection of acrylics that would be shown in a new gallery in Chelsea. Being left alone used to be some kind of comfort but at that moment it felt like pulling the plug after a coma.
I needed to clear my mind and focus on finding a replacement for little dweeb; someone who wouldn´t prey on me and knew nothing about me.
So I took my chances and decided to post it on the social networks and see what I was able to catch. This time it happened to be a girl and it was perfect because I had no interest in them.
The post said
INTO THE HOLE.

It was Wednesday and it had been drizzling. I headed down to the corner of Prince and Mercer Street around five in the afternoon  She was standing there with her arms thrown on her back with a very optimistic look.
Edith was like the storybook Alice; she was raven-haired with bangs, milky white skin, blue eyes, underdeveloped.
I lived above one of those psychic shops which was owned by some lady named Ava who was very solicited.
We continued to make small talk in the elevator; I could noticed she was frittering and somewhat avoiding me.
"The name´s Adrian Black by the way; sorry if I keep going online by odd usernames. What should I call you?"
"Oh, Edie is fine."
"Strange; like Edie Sedgwick."
"Yeah except I´m not that beautiful and rich like he was."
"I suppose you´re not a junkie either, sorry!"
She laughed, "No!"
"Oh, don´t be that disencouraged; everyone here looks like a rockstar. I´m simply white trash from Ohio who got lucky."
"Ok, now my turn! Why Adrian?"
"I don´t know. I think my mother got so hooked on "Rosemary´s Baby". Like I´m the Antichrist."
"Is that a true story?"
"No but I scared you, didn´t I?"
"Not one bit."
"Why this place is just around the corner for you, isn´t it?" I said.
"Oh, absolutely! But how did you manage to snatch this loft just like this?"
"It was no walk in the park, I´ll tell you that. You have to be some kind of artist. The former owner was Edward King. There was an urban legend that he used to lurk the campus at 3 AM because he went sleepless ."
"Well, that´s intriguing!" she cried. "I haven´t heard of that story."
"I wanted to be here so badly because I prefer to have a piece of history around me instead of something brand new. And because I´m a sucker for nostalgia."
"How come?"
"Because all people live or dead leave an invisible trace behind. Say like burned toast."
"Now you´re quoting Mr. Hallorann in "The Shining"! she cried.
"Are you some kind of film geek?"
"No but I have a very keen memory."
"And I'm an artist, it's not that unusual to have some scars in my life to inspire me. Actually I wondered if that was my fate; to have a tormented existence watching everyone around me being hurt or let me hurt them back.”
“God no,” she said swinging her hand in mid air, “you’re too young to be carrying too much grief, what are you, twenty something...”
“I’ll be thirty next january.”
“Oh, that’s bad, that’s way too bad,” she said cynically. “In a number of societies and subcultures being over twenty means that you’re practically washed up.”
“I’m not old!” I replied, “I’m just experienced. How about you?"
"Was that a trick question?" she snapped. "Well; I came all the way down from Michigan to study psychology and currently I´m working on a thesis which describes using art as therapy; you know, to help people recover from trauma."
"You could never finish your work in a city like this! We´re all mad here. I´m mad, you´re mad."
"How can I be mad?" she asked.
"You must be; otherwise you shouldn´t have come here."
"Wait that sounds familiar; Alice In Wonderland, right?"
"Yeah, you got me. As a kid I used to quote it all the time; it applies to a lot of things in this crazy world."
"What other things?"
"Success in life. It takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that! I´m always ahead of my competitors."
"You have competitors?"
"All artists are like that. Secretly we want to devour each other. The rest of the time we´re poking each others´ egos. Only a small number are your actual friends."
"Right. I´m not so much into that because I´m a real down to earth person."
"Stick with me and I´ll show you some of my work and tell me what you think."
"Are you any good?"
"I´m a badass; that´s all you need to know."


Away from all the high end shops and decadent flair of Soho was my private fifty five hundred square foot lair which was a literal flashback to the nineties. My comrades lived in a large set of vinyls and CD´s which were most of the time old Johnny Cash and Nine Inch Nails.
"There are two levels and a terrace up here. It´s like a freaking mansion with ghosts and all."
"Why are you saying that?" she laughed, "are you trying to scare me out of here?"
"No; I´m dead serious. There´s something bad here. No one believes it, of course but it´s an amusing story. Just like the one right here."
The entrance or foyer consisted of a large brick wall decorated with a copy of a painting I entitled "Home." The theme was a giant hole with a mixed media technique mostly acrylic and in the style of abstract expressionism.
"I have no idea what it means but the use of color is incredible. So you say this is a copy, where´s the original one?"
"It was sold to some art collector in London. I was lucky that she appreciated my earliest work."
"How is it that I know so little about what you do?"
"You really need to get out more. Come; I´ll show you the way to kitchen because I could really use a drink. What´s your poison?"
"Oh, no thanks, really."
"I insist but don´t worry I don´t bite. My teeth might too worn our anyway."
"You have a big imagination, Adrian."
"Yeah, among other things."
Edie was a swell tenant. She asked me why would I could choose for a girl who has nothing to do with the art world to live here. It was simply because she wouldn´t be such a huge distraction. Later on I would refer to her as my "non-artistic follower" with my colleagues in reference to the insane regulations of Soho living.
Her constant need to question and analyze everything served me well. Little by little I confessed her about my ill-fated relationship. She was eager to know because there were moments where I failed to express any emotions; I stood by the large windows in my studio.
The day the world went away
"Is everything alright?" she said one afternoon. "Or is it the rain that´s making you all melancholy?"
"Sorry, I didn´t notice you were here. What time is it?"
"Around six thirty. You don´t like to keep track of time, huh?"
"I used to but then I became very obsessive and I didn´t like who I was back then. I felt like a goddamn slave."
"I´m sorry, did I make you feel uncomfortable? I was going to make myself some tea; do you want to join me?"
"Now that´s something I can never refuse."

I wish I was actually doing portraits because Edie never looked so wonderful that afternoon; her little blue navy halter dress that went well with her sapphire like eyes. At least I could take a picture for the impression to last longer. It wasn´t a hint of attraction but she was mesmerizing.
"Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes."

"I feel unapologetic with you," I said.
"How come?"
"I haven´t told you about my previous tenant."
"That´s ok; you don´t have to tell me everything."
"You do it all the time; from the moment you´re out in the street till you come back."
"Would this confession be something I´m not supposed to hear?"
"No but you may have seen the majority of my online pictures with a certain Daniel Hyde."
"Oh, yeah; the model, what about him?"
"He´s my ex."
"I knew that! That´s not such a big mystery. Here, this is a special blend red tea. It helps to relax."
"Red; my favorite color besides black. You don´t the whole story, do you?"
"I´m not into gossip or prying into people´s lives, Adrian."
"Please do! It will help your career, I promise."
"Alright so what happened between you to?"
"Well," I said as I proceeded to take a sip of tea, "This is rather good,by the way. He´s the main reason why I was all lethargic just a few moments ago."
She said laughing, "So why didn´t you say so in the first place?"
"I´m a gentleman despite my deviate lifestyle. I feel so timid around you that I don´t want to scare you so much. Anyway, Daniel came into to live here like all the rest but he´s still impossible to forget."
"My, this doesn´t sound like small talk anymore..."
We took our conversation elsewhere to the living room exactly where I had my huge black leather couch; that´s where I crashed most of the time when I was fully exhausted.
"He had the hots for me since day one. I didn´t care at all because I´m fully concentrated in my paintings. There is an unwritten rule here that whenever I requested for a new exhibition no one and I said no one can ever disturb me."
"Just like now?"
"Sort of. I must work under very specific conditions in the style of Edward K. There are hours where I am severly productive like at eleven or three in the morning. Sometimes I stay up all night and sleep in the daytime. Even my agent knows; it´s effective."
"I have noticed that."
"It takes a while to get used to. Danny didn´t fully understand this so at the beginning he begged me to go to sleep. As soon as he entered my studio which is cluttered all the time not messy he approached me."
"And?"
"You would have said he was waiting for the right moment to strike me.
So I was in there doing my thing when suddenly he grabbed my waist but his hands were incredibly cold."
"And then?"
"I felt powerless. I tried to set myself free but he kept going. He pulled down my pants and fucked me."
She paused for a moment raising an eyebrow, "And you didn´t put any resistance, did you?"
"I honestly did! Like I said I was so concentrated, possessed even. I was thinking that maybe it would all clear up the next day but it got worse."
"In which sense?"
"He wanted control; it was something I couldn´t give him no matter what. We had an agreement."
"Why didn´t you just throw him out?"
Then it was me who paused.
"Daniel was so great in bed; that´s what."
"Well, I think that pretty much wraps it up. This is completely irrelevant to me!"
"Don´t be mad. I had a very hard time swallowing it."
"Really? How?"
"Actually I might be depressed right now but I can´t notice it because I have too much stuff on my head."
"Adrian, I´m not mad but I think you´re playing the victim here when you knew damn well what he was up to. I see no reason to weep for that bastard."
"I´m still going with the theory that there´s something bad here. You know, I´m glad you came along."

But I knew this piece of advice would not be enough; it was a wound that was still fresh. Unbelievable as it sounds Daniel was the Queen and I was nothing but a loyal subject. My failed attempt to seek help from the outside worsened these episodes of deep silence.
One fine day he found out I had a passion for drawing animals. He liked too but in a sexual way; fetish to be more exact. So he took me to this party over in Chelsea where many queers and other strange beings gather.
What a mistook for a costume ball was in fact

draft

I can´t sleep, I am trapped against four white walls totally against my will. It´s not my own bed and surrounded with strangers running needles down my arm. The only way to keep calm now is to continue writing. Since there´s not much to talk about I might as well introduce myself.

His body was getting colder and my anxiety climbed. I didn´t expect this at all. I can´t even believe the last thing he said, "Immoratlize me in one of your paintings," and I blatantly refused his petition. Now I´m thinking deeply his goal hasn´t been reached.

He leaned his forehead against mine and said, "Hey cutiepie, you don´t to play with us anymore?"

I answered with another question, "God, when will you stop?"

"I always get what I want, even in the afterlife." I felt his icy presence below my waist and instinctively closed my eyes.

"You´re so fucking beautiful...you can´t be real," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, don´t love me too much, I care about someone else so much anyways..."

"That´s the thing..." he said while grasping my neck. "The girl, told me to tell you that "she" interferes...tries to explain it all and she will ruin it all. If you don´t leave her we´ll have to get rid of her."

"That´s insane! I´m not leaving Edith just because you say so! This is my house and these are my rules!"

"But my queen was here before you came along, it´s her place. She could set it all on fire like it happened ages ago..."

"Fuck you, Daniel, I have better things to do."

"Oh yeah, like leaving me here to die and not give a fuck?"

I regained consciousness and next thing you know I was right beside Edie.

"Is everything alright? You look sort of pale," she said in a low voice.

"Um, yeah, I just...felt a little bit dizzy, u know."

"I know what you´re up to."

Now I was paler than ever.

"But don´t drink too much." She then kissed me gently and placed her arms around me, I could smell her sweet scent, "I can´t control you but if you´d let me..."

"You can´t tame me, you know that. Sometimes I´m better off running wild but you can be sure that I´ll always come back to you feeling hungrier than ever."

"Is that a fact?"

---------------------

AUTUMN.

I can´t sleep, I am trapped against four white walls hoping to recover soon.It´s not my own bed and I am being visited by strangers in white uniforms running needles up my arm. The only way to keep calm now is to keep on  writing.What a joyous form of magic. Since there´s not much to say I might as well keep on writing and see how far I can get with this until I´m knocked out.

I´m Adrian Black. I’m pushing thirty next year and an eighties brat. I don’t consider myself handsome but I’m always hunted down for some goddamn reason. I’m about 5’11 , white, hazel green eyes, jet black hair , slender, slender lips and a soft raspy voice. Edith says I have this devilish look and that I distill an incredible confidence and sexuality wherever I go but the truth is I am sort of shy. I love her to death as much as I love screwing men.

I already made a solid name for myself being cast as one of New York’s finest young artists; no matter what I create it turns to gold instantly. I would blame my success for creating my art under very unorthodox circumstances which could drive anyone insane.

My closest friends would suppose that the reason why I recently landed in this hospital had to do with my harshness and self abuse working mostly at inappropriate hours. I call it discipline.

I actually feel proud of my work. I practice art, the fine art of self destruction. Years ago it was about something else. Anyways, this new exhibit is to be my major comeback, or so they say, from what? From the dead, perhaps.

I secretly wish for certain things  to happen. When I was a child I enjoyed because it gave me a powerful reason to be noticed but I wasn't aware that it would follow me for the rest of my goddamn life.

It earned me names such as ‘goth’ attracting the ones I despised the most. I always attract strange creatures, vermin of the mind.

These dangerous experiments have a price however.

I think I fell into some trance one time. My mind was completely blank and I refused to go to bed. I started talking in automatic mode and for some goddamn reason I repeated a kind of joke and I have admit I'm not the funny type but do have a dark sense of humor.

Anyways, it begins like this: a man walks into a bar feeling down and out and sits while the bartender witnesses his terrible story.

So then the guy says, "You know, I'd give anything to a have a little piece of mind right now."

Said and done, the bartender comes back a while later with a small glass and the sad guy notices there's no drink in it but something rose colored. He's all freaked out and cries, "What the Hell is this?"

"What you asked for, a piece of mind," says the bartender, and the glass contained a piece of brain...

It's amusing but there's a hard lesson behind it. You can't expect to be heard in a place like that not even find the right answers, they'll always give you the opposite of what you really despite what you might think.

My career fell into some kind of rabbit hole not so long ago and went out of balance just because I let my love life invade it...but what’s life without a little bit of chaos in it?

I felt the need to punish myself for what happened to Daniel. It was a self abusive relationship but I overcame it, whatever doesn’t kill you...It was as if they removed a limb or to be more specific some kind of tumor.

I secretly wanted him out of my life and it literally happened.

Luckily fate has smiled on me and brought me back who I consider my best friend who saved me from Hell that one time and here’s where our actual story begins.

"Hi there, and how are you doing today?" said Edie. She agreed that I’d called her that way because she secretly reminded me of the late Edie Sedgewick. She had pearly white skin, dark straight hair, blue eyes like sapphires, fairly developed physique and so goddamn adorable.

Any single girl that has fallen into my clutches is broken so she had her own story to tell but I’ll get to that later. As I was contemplating her I thought I was holding a bona fide lover.

I automatically answered, ""I haven't slept in three days in a row"

"How come?"

"First, I was giving the final touches on an acrylic but other than that I have this damn cough that keeps me up...I can't stand it."

“Have you taken anything?”

“I think I’m gonna have to, I just hope it doesn’t get worse.”

"Awww, you poor thing, I think I have a solution for that..."

And next thing you know we had morning sex. For some goddamn reason she liked to blow me every now and then and it was exactly what I needed then. She stretched and went down on me with such ease, I felt it really wasn’t necessary, I almost felt ashamed to have such a wonderful friend doing her best to misbehave and be a part of my world. It was so much easier to cum. By the time she was done I was grasping the sheets.

"Feel better now?" she said agitated.

"Yeah..." I said gasping. “You are on fire...looks like you’ve been saving the best for last.”

“I´ve meaning to do that for a long time.”

She lied upon my chest and crossed her arms, "So, are you gonna show me your stuff?"

"Um, didn't I do that already?" I said playfully. Of course I knew what she was talking about.

"Nah, you can't see them yet."

"Why not?"

"Because...but I'm willing to make an exception, how 'bout you gimme another kiss?"

"Sounds fair enough," she said. Tasting her was like that tangy candy; tempting but still not enough to satisfy you, and always craved for more, not that it was any of her business

The day went by so quickly but I remember things crystal clear for I was feeling light headed.

Someone said to me once that the heart of Surrealism was to drive things out of their context but this was so darn ridiculous. It was almost impossible to ignore being sick. I did go back to sleep again during the afternoon but it was only for a few hours.

Edith and I decided to have a little reunion with a couple of some of my close friends. I agreed to give them a preview of my collection.

There was Mark and James, the first was helping with some designs and upload some ‘stuff’ to my website which happened to a set of 22 acrylics and mixed media. I had been making this for almost two goddamn years and it finally saw the light. Though at the beginning I didn’t have the slightest clue of what I was going to create for a solo exhibition ( a breakthrough for any artist) I decided to make the most deranged schedule I could think of choosing certain hours like 11 PM or 3 AM. They didn’t make sense back then and they don’t now. They are coincidences but I secretly wanted to provoke something.

“So is true this place is haunted? I heard some wild tales, you know...”

I laughed politely, “That’s what the previous owner said. He used to be a painter as well but lesser known than me. They say he used to come with ouija boards to see if he could invoke the spirit...”

“What spirit?”

I said while I swiveled a half empty glass of red wine, “That’s thing, no one knows and no one will, but it’s been around for a long time, back when this place was known as Hell’s Hundred Acres.”

“Sick, and if you saw it could you deal with that?” said Mark.

I stared with the eyes of a lost boy, “We’ll have to find out.”

Edith smiled and clapped once, “Well, you see, we’re always full of surprises!”

I went into the bathroom upstairs and examined myself closely. I was panting and my temperature kept climbing. I had noticed that of all the times I had been working late at night in my studio it felt like being stuck inside a cold meat room.

They say that building used to be a small factory and became reconstructed after a huge fire. Basically it is in fact full of surprises yet I had a hard time ignoring them, like I was waiting for the walls to start bleeding or seeing ghosts.

And then it slipped my mind,  what if I was actually getting worse, what if I was too sick to notice? So I unconsciously decided to be discrete and leave the party so I chose to be back in the studio for awhile, where all the magic happened, so said a girl to me once before we fucked.  I washed my face as much as I could and took the strongest analgesic I could find and went back.

It must have been around 11 PM. There I stood contemplating the last painting I did and I couldn’t think of a name for that piece; it was the stylized image of a rabbit with gleaming eyes. The dripping red acrylic paint seemed very much like blood and sometimes I wondered if it was actually mine or a mere illusion.

Edith, in all her splendor embraced me and held me tightly from behind, "No need to fear, I am here."

"Thank you girl, you are a blessing," I said.

I felt her stroking me and said, "You're trembling...that’s odd.”

I tried to think of an easy way out, "Yeah, well, it's always cold in here for some reason. I have tried to resolve that but you know how drafty it gets in these old buildings."

"And you can deal with that?" she said looking rather puzzled. "Not me! I did notice you were rather distant today but um, please take care, alright? I'll be waiting upstairs.”

She left slowly but turned around every five seconds or so as she reached the stairs towards the bedroom. I didn’t want to upset her.

All these pieces that I put together over the last few years have been incredibly painful. It has never been my policy to make portraits of people who have entered my life. Ironically it seems that this last one already brought some memories.

I recalled something for some goddamn reason, a few days after Halloween. I was at that very same room staring at the mirror, one that I particularly enjoyed. It was reminiscent of an art nouveau style, something I rescued for inspiration purposes. I thought out loud.

“If they only knew what I was going through, if only they could feel my pain so that I'd never be alone.

How I wished I could go on automatic mode so I would have to avoid feeling down on these pointless conversations, disengaged and resorted to say a few lines, the usual stuff, not giving a damn.”

"Is something the matter?" asked Chloe who came rather uninvited. "You can't lower your head right now, you got a big show remember?”

And I said, "Nothing will help me more than to continue working day and night until the demons are gone."

"You always make it sound terrifying, don't you?" she said. "You should fear me now, that's why..." I sighed.

"Please don't do anything you would regret, I need you in excellent shape."

"I will be but there's no doubt this event has scarred me for life," I said.

"You know what they say, everyone enjoys a little chaos every now and then."

Chloe Smith is my current agent and best friend. She knew the whole New York art business like the back of her hand. We connected quite well that she used to call me at very specific hours to see how I was doing and it so happened that I was at my best moments yet. I guess intuition had something to do with it. Most of the people and best friends I’ve had know that, I’ve met them all by coincidence.

And I tried to swallow my pride as usual and pretend I was in total control.

I ceased to talk to anyone for a small period of time, just the essential and then I started to feel absent. My body was there but I was somewhere else, you know what I mean. I found this activity rather comforting and yet incredibly fucked up.

The goddamn eyes never lie and they could tell if there was truly something wrong with me.

There were endless nights when I cried desperately wishing this had never happened. Coping with this pain was the hardest part especially when you realized you had something in front of you that reminded you of that someone

Fucking idiot, why did you die on me like this?

Another flashback came to mind, this one was more devious than I imagined.

The lights were out, just the two of us against each other. He was on top of me while I played the victim, as usual blindfolded and completely nude.

And the echo of our screams of pleasure emerged, "Turn me into something beautiful, I want to be free..."

The image vanished. The temperature in the room began to drop violently and the same time I became more agitated.

A shadow surfaced and struck my shoulders, “Adrian, tell our story...”

After that I threw myself in the big leather couch and struggled to close my eyes.

--------------

I had no idea what time it was but I would say roughly it was about 3 AM; it was a habit of removing any clock in this room, it was a sort of exercise to control my anxiety.

I couldn’t sleep, the rain was coming down mild but I got up anyway. I rubbed my shoulders vigorously and made sure the windows were shut firmly.

Everything seemed to be in place however except for the fact that the cloth which covered the last painting was falling. As I picked it up I collapsed and realized my fever was getting worse.The best thing to do now would going back to my room, back with Edith yet some powerful force retained me.

“You, can never leave...” said a childish voice.

There was a noise that I couldn't describe, like the sound of some rusty fans and machinery in a very low tone. Even the maplewood floor began to look shabby.

I stepped away and stood still. For a while I couldn't move, I couldn’t breathe normally.

A soft masculine voice said, "So it is finished, then?"

I couldn't answer, he kept talking, "Good...soon everyone will know our story." He placed his arms around me as he whispered, "Adrian..."

I had no reaction but to breathe heavily.

"You still can't get over me, can you?" His heavy and icy hand ran across my body and reached inside my pants.  I fell on my knees and faded away.

------------------------------

Whatever happened after that was a complete mystery. Random sounds of people here and there, confusion and chaos everywhere. I heard sometime ago that usually chaos precedes important changes but I do recall Edie's sweet voice welcoming back to the real world.

"Hey baby, you're awake," she said. She stared at me and held my hand with the curiosity of a child and at the same time a huge deal of compassion.

"Why am I here?" I said, it was the only thing I could think of.

Edith carefully explained, "Well, um, you see, I found you so I had to bring you here .You had been in observation for the last two days, you know, just to make sure there were no complications. You need is some proper rest , plenty of fluids and then you'll be okay to go home.”

"What's wrong with me?"

“You have a bad case of pneumonia, that’s what. You stopped breathing for some time.I went back downstairs because I heard some strange noises too but then I figured out it was you.”

I rolled to the side of the stiff bed, "So...that's what it was? Nothing else? I’m sorry."

“Don’t be sorry, dear, but if you could have told me if you were feeling that bad.”

All I had to do was to worry about healing. I asked for the time and she answered, "Well, it's about 11:11 AM, why?"

“No reason. I keep seeing the number eleven everywhere I go.” She mentioned it was just a coincidence, nothing big to worry about.

"Sweetie, just relax and get some sleep, OK, do you promise? Your imagination is so darn wild!"

At this point it would be rather hard to explain that a ghost kept me there so I tried to pay attention to whatever they had to say to me.

"I think you're starting to get to know me better," I said. "But you're right,  I’m so exhausted and sore, it feels than a hangover.”

At that moment she became quite aware of how dangerous my midnight experiments could get, all for the sake of art, I always said.

“By the way, I found this lying beside you, it’s a little messy but I think you might need it.” She handed me an old college notebook with my name on it and drowned me with kisses; she would come back until next morning.

As I slowly opened it I noticed that some of the pages were stained in blood right where it had the date,  11/11, or November 11th.  The craziest thing about it is that it was exactly that day that I was still recovering, as if it had been some coincidence or sign.

As I was writing that night I made a recollection about all the random supernatural experiences in my life and it took me all the way down to my hometown, my dearest Elyria, Ohio.

When I used to date Lisa Summers back in high school, she did this bizarre reading by using my date of birth:

JANUARY 29TH, 1981.

How was that done, again? I did the math in my diary:

Your date broken into numbers is:

1 + 2 + 9 + 1 + 9 + 8 +1 = 31

“The trick to reveal your life path is by reducing it to just one number, so three plus one is four.”

“So what the Hell does four mean?”

FOUR STANDS FOR THOSE PEOPLE WHO ARE INDEED HARDWORKING AND HAVE GREAT CHANCES OF SUCCEEDING. Plus, your sign is Aquarius, right?

“Yeah, so?”

IT MAKES SENSE IF YOU WANT TO USE YOUR TALENT TO OPEN UP TO OTHERS AND REACH OUT TO HELP THEM. YOU´RE SUPPOSED TO BE FRIENDLY TOO…

“Woman, I´m not God. I don´t think I´ll ever be, no one is. If you want to make me one, go ahead.”

That was probably one of the multiple reasons why I stopped going out with her. One time she begged me to visit this old structure that looked like an abandoned castle. It was rumored that it used to belong to some dude who got lucky and was hiding in the outbounds of Elyria for some shitty reason, you know, that kind of people that everyone talks about but no one messes with, probably some gangsters. Anyways, Lisa said that an evil force or vibe or spirit was lurking. Not that the place was haunted, it’s just that she said:

MANY OBJECTS THAT PEOPLE CHERISHED LEAVE TRACES BEHIND.

And I went, “like fingerprints?” I’m sorry, I was sixteen and horribly naïve.

NO, YOU SEE, THEIR PSYCHIC ENERGY INVADES THINGS, EVEN THE SMALLEST ONES.

Ever since she laid her eyes upon me she felt I was capable of picking up that so-called voodoo energy like I was a radar for the dead. She was thinking like I was to join her legion of fucked up teens or something and before things got even worse I declined her invitation. Unfortunately she told her friends that I said Goths suck and they’re a bunch of wannabe vampires.

Was I so overwhelmed by that? No, I don’t think so. That was part of her game, since she was the one who wanted to have a supernatural experience so badly to compensate her need for affection. That I can understand, but I did the civilized thing to ignore her bitching, which is why I stopped calling her. So as you can see, I did learn a few magic tricks on my own.

“THE MORE YOU TALK ABOUT SOMEONE, THE MORE POWERFUL HE OR SHE BECOMES.”

Of course, there’s the portrait I did of her as well, I should bury it, burn it, rip it to shreds but I’m still scared.

Almost dawn, I can’t go on, need to sleep.

------

Mother called in; she wanted to know how I was doing  and as usual I was utterly sincere and I made her cry. Sorry, I had no reason to lie, it´s just that she doesn´t trust Edith that much. Makes sense, also had to postpone some events, that part I hate.

YOU´RE HUMAN AFTER ALL…AT THE RATE YOU´RE GOING, YOU SHOULD BE OUT IN NO TIME…

“Thanks girl, you’re beginning to get to know me better.” There, I said it. This is one of the very few times I actually admitted that a woman was right at something, I´ve been tripping with the same stone too many times, ´guess this event was my wake up call, hitting rock bottom, or whatever you wanna call it.

I wish there was a mirror so I could see if I looked pale or emaciated. Edie was the one who noticed I looked different the day we decided to get back together. Not that I cared about my personal appearance but then again like I said many times, “Don´t worship me, worship my work!”

I found it odd still how she came freely as if somehow she knew I was in trouble, intuition I guess.

But then the work is me. As I said once in an interview,

“My art is just an extension of me. Like an oversized limb trying to reach out and touch others.”

Have I touched anyone yet? That I´m not sure of, unless I get the proper feedback. And I don´t bother to rummage in my website to find something positive; guest books are so much more intimate and even define personality. Now, I´m not saying that I´m into graphology, but you can tell some things that resembles high school yearbook signatures, such as:

YOU´RE THE BEST, PLEASE NEVER CHANGE!

LOVE YOU, PLEASE MARRY ME!

I´M YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN…

But who´s really sincere to tell me; who´s got the freaking balls to say that I´m not that good enough and I should do better. That´s why I fall again and again into the arms of depression. Have I reached the top, am I a God to them?

I was feeling like a boulder again, so weak and beaten up inside, I felt a big sting in my chest, knees shaking…

IT´S CALLED RELAPSE, HONEY; MAYBE YOU SHOULD LIE DOWN BEFORE YOU WORSEN…

“I´m sorry, who are you again?” so I asked desperately.

I´M MARLA, THE NURSE FOR THE NIGHT. SO YOU BETTER LISTEN TO ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.

This was gonna be a long night indeed. Some people lack empathy, but in my case you need more than that.

EDITH TOLD ME TO TELL YOU THAT SHE’LL BE BACK IN THE MORNING.

“You do know who I am, don’t you?”

IT’LL BE ALRIGHT, MR. BLACK, SHE TOLD US TO TAKE GOOD CARE OF YOU, IS SHE YOUR WIFE?

Damn, she got me cornered now. “She is my girlfriend, what makes you think she’s something else?”

The middle aged woman answered politely,

I KNOW SHE ISN’T, BUT SHE SHOULD BE, YOU PEOPLE NEED TO SETTLE DOWN AFTER THE LITTLE STORY SHE TOLD ME.

“I would recommend you to be discreet about my private life, alright? Especially that part I’ve a reputation to sustain. And why are you asking me too much about Edith all of a sudden?”

JUST MAKING SMALL TALK.

Well, that sure stirred me up for such a casual conversation. I don’t know whether I was pale because of my illness or because I was freaking nervous. “What do you mean by “you people”?” I asked her as she was forced to go back to bed.

I DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT ART, MR. BLACK, YET I THINK YOU HIDE BEHIND IT. THAT DOESN’T HELP VERY MUCH, IN FACT IT ISOLATES YOU FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD, THEREFORE NO ONE UNDERSTANDS YOU.

“Why do you tell me this, you’re supposed to make me feel better. At least my ‘wife’ knew what I needed to heal faster. You say I hide in my art to avoid getting damaged, is that it? You think you know me, but you have a lot to learn!”

OF COURSE NOT, YOU’VE BEEN GIVEN ANOTHER CHANCE, BOY, USE IT TO TURN THINGS AROUND, NOW BE A DEAR AND HELP ME OUT...

She gave a shot of something that resembled a milky white substance but whatever it was it knocked me out before I could even ask her anything else. Ah damn...

-----------

I´m not afraid of dreams, but they sure bring back memories, like a book that hasn´t been closed yet. When I stopped seeing some people or broke up with girlfriends or boyfriends my mind triggered these visions in which I was wounded, especially from my side. And the weirdest thing of all was that I could be in a rather good mood, but on the other hand another ´side ‘of me needed my attention. Today I woke up having exactly that feeling.

MAYBE YOU ARE SEEING THIS BECAUSE YOUR BODY IS STILL TRYING TO HEAL…is there anything else I can do?

“No, Edith,” I said abruptly. “Come here…” I gave her the tightest hug that I could give. “I do this so I can feel, if I do then I´m awake in this world, am I?”

YOU´VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT LATELY, I THOUGHT YOU WERE A GONNER FOR SURE…

“Have you talked to anyone here about me and the other night?”

ADRIAN, NO! OF COURSE NOT…why are you telling me this?

“A nurse, Marla, she came in and told me nasty things about you and me, and that she´d talked to you.”

I DIDN´T SEE THAT PERSON DEAR…maybe it was another dream?

Silence invaded the room for a while, let´s say a minute; lots of things come to mind, like when you wish upon a star, blowing out the candles from a birthday cake and all that conventional shit. Moreover, it announced the presence of the spirits.

“I was just, you know...talking to someone else.”

NO...Oh, you must have been hallucinating from that fever. “Quite frankly I don't know what you're up to these days, but I kept praying for you.”

No, I wasn’t dying or anything like that; times like these are defined by the connoisseurs as surreal; a moment between being awake and asleep…

“Is it a kind of dream,

Floating out on the tide,

Following the river of death downstream?

Oh, is it a dream?”

Suddenly the sky turns into this giant painting, with a palette that only God has, the scents are flagrant and the sounds become the soundtrack of your life…

“Bright eyes,

Burning like fire.

Bright eyes,

How can you close and fail?

How can the light that burned so brightly

Suddenly burn so pale?

Bright eyes..”

When I was seven I got fixated on Watership Down. We didn´t have much books around the house, so I grabbed it and held to it before it became it became dirt. Then everything about it became an obsession. I used to have a vision in living in a much better place but I was never warned about the perils of this brave new world they call New York.

--------------

interview from CB Art Magazine; winter edition.

AT THIS POINT IN YOUR LIFE HOW DO YOUR DEFINE YOUR ART, ADRIAN?

“Sometimes it lacks a definition, some have called it surrealist but it’s just an excuse some people add to things that look very far-fetched but very handsome at the same time. It´s supposed to have a strong effect on the viewer, and if doesn´t then it´s meaningless. I tossed many of my own works because of that. It  doesn´t always has to be pleasant."

LIKE WHEN YOU DRAW THINGS OUT OF YOUR NIGHTMARES?

"I´ve had some very potent dreams and haven´t woken up from them, does that mean they´re pleasant? I´ve seen myself drenched in blood and I think that every sane mind knows that should be something to be concerned about. I haven´t painted those things yet, if so they would hang me."

THUS YOU BECOME MORE SELECTIVE WITH THE THEMES...

"Why should one censor ideas that quickly? It´s like an abortion, but you do it unconsciously because you´ve been already trained to do it for generations. It´s not the same thing when one kills an insect just because you feel it´s threatening. Those things are taught even at school. We grow afraid of inner demons and angels. If we fear it, we don´t touch it, but at the same time we award more power to it. I guess that proves your point."

DO YOU BELIEVE YOUR ART HAS BEEN CENSORED SOMETIMES?

"No, but I have contained it..."

But I was the one who couldn´t contain myself any longer. A sustained sigh cut the silence. I made it back home somehow. My house had a very large studio full of knick knacks, some very old, some that had never been used, and others I collected for mere sentimental value, like a full body mirror which had a very particular kind of frame. It was highly stylized like in an art nouveau kind of way, carefully carved, it was dated since 1904. I rescued it from an antique store on a  rainy afternoon, I must have been so blue and compulsive but not that insane to realize I had damn good taste; it was indeed a beautiful thing to look at, except for my reflection, I was still recovering for at least another week.

Nevertheless I had some works almost finished and once again the common subject was the figure of the rabbit. It was the first time I decided to bring it to the real world; it had bothered me so much it was sickening me. Let´s hope that counted as actual therapy. I agreed to show them at a local gallery, Chloe insisted. Most of the time I avoided the sunlight because it announced the beginning of another long day, and I had literally nothing valuable to do since some essential things were done for me. So an emptiness came to rape my mind and I was drained from inspiration.

I despise those so-called artists that wait until inspiration strikes them in order to come up with something original.Inevitably I became surrounded by them in a period of my life and they polluted me. Every person who gets involved in this industry has this fixation that they´ll someday come up with their masterpiece, thus they work hard on that dream until it comes true. Yet, in reality it doesn´t happen quite like that. For me it´s been more about the technique, like a journey to the bottom of the sea, the deeper you go the more you feel. Like a very intense orgasm. Now there´s a fucking masterpiece. Can´t reveal if I did this last thing on my own or with someone else...

SO GLAD TO SEE YOU´RE BACK HOME AGAIN, DEAR.

Mother. She called again and she lectured me about caring for my health, but these days I´m more concerned about my mental health.

ARE YOU TAKING YOUR MEDS?

"I´m supposed to, they gave me enough for the next two weeks but the side effects are giving me a hard time if you know what I mean," and the I gently caressed my stomach.

IS THAT WHY YOU´RE IN A BAD MOOD TODAY?

"Hell no! Although I feel like I drained many things off my system these last few days."

I SEE, JUST HAVE SOME PATIENCE. THESE THINGS SHOULD BE HANDLED WITH CARE...

What things?

YOU KNOW...

I like that warning, "HANDLE WITH CARE" I should put a sign with it over myself, just joking. I sat down on the neatly polished maplewood floor as I was opening my sketchbook...some swirls that I made obsessively until the pencil was worn out. They looked more like a rabbit holes, or it could stand for other things, I´m not sure. That´s the beauty of art; there are no right or wrong answers, that´s why they can never accuse you of implanting evil ideas in people´s heads. The meaning is obtained after careful observation and from there on it becomes a symbol. So, I see no harm in putting rabbits in whatever situations I can possibly imagine. It means nothing until you want.

-------------

I see too damn often my house in dreams, it isn’t relevant, I would have expected something much more glorious, but instead I was in a sort of attic that resembled my current studio. I sat down and stared at the mirror; I was wearing some kind of a gray shirt, then I could notice some little girl wanted my attention and I gave her the cold shoulder. She had a dress which reminded me of the forties kind of fashion like from an old black and white film.

“ Do I remind you of anyone, perhaps a storybook girl, the one who is always chasing a rabbit?” she said repeatedly.

“ If so, why are you here?” I answered.

“Because you are the White Rabbit,” then she giggled in a very malicious way.

“Then that means that I must have a queen to obey that will surely cut my head off if I don’t do something right.”

“You do have one but you must cut her head off before she decides to grow more.”

Then I remember going downstairs to the kitchen; it looked like the one in my old home in Elyria and there sat this lonely boy dressed in black at the head of the table. And then as I had some breakfast with him I was seemed to be giving him some special advice. The boy felt better. But the girl who I was ignoring said hi to me and I ignored for the second time, I needed some peace, so I went back to my bedroom with my ´wife, uh, which was Edith, of course. I´m no guru so everyone can come to me for infinite wisdom, I’m just a very lucky guy who’s still discovering for what he’s worth.

------------

Letting go is tough; they always give me a hard time because I refuse to get rid of old things in my room, and especially if they had some sort of sentimental value. The same rule applied to the people who touched my heart.

That girl in my dream knew something about me and felt we had a bond, but I couldn't even see her face.

“DON'T IGNORE ME, ADRIAN, I'M NOT VERMIN, OR HAVE YOU SLAIN.”

Someone told me a long time ago there was such a thing called a psychic link; an invisible thread that is fed upon empathy, that's why I was taught to give back instead of keeping things to yourself. It doesn't have to do anything with karma or religion or any deranged cult out there. It's just a way of extending yourself.

Art should be like this, but then others don't do it, they're selfish and get all caught up in their little universe. I think I made sense when I hugged Edith, not quite sure if she felt a deeper connection with me after this, but it did help me to be quite aware of how concerned she was about her family, maybe she left the nest too early and I left it too late. Nevertheless she shows up every now and then in my visions, like a specter or a ghost with her thin raven hair hiding her killer smile, surrounded by a royal blue ambient.

I can understand the act of connecting with people I've met, but what about those that I haven't even seen or heard about in real life? Stupid little girl, she kept bugging me that night.

Damn, now I was getting a flashback from art school;

"How do you see these trees? They are yellow. So, put in yellow; this shadow, rather blue, paint it with pure ultramarine; these red leaves? Put in vermilion. That's what Paul Gaugin said."

Gray, everything was particularly gray and with somber tones in that dream, it reminded me of the time I was more seclusive in my earlier days, do you think the girl symbolized an entire population that I chose to ignore? I haven't addressed anybody lately except for my closest friends and family.

Afternoon came, around 1:11 PM, the sun was up hours ago and I was still tidying up, can't work when everything ‘s scattered all over the place, makes you feel like your mind is a mess as well. There were these other sets of semi-professional paints they gave me and I kept because I didn’t have the heart to say that they were useless to me, maybe could come in handy later, but somehow that “later” never comes.

HAVING FUN YET?

“I’m tired, so fucking tired, can’t explain how incredibly exhausted I am. I need my strength back soon.”

PATIENCE DEAR, ONE STEP AT A TIME.

“That’s the problem, you ask me for patience, it doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

YOU WERE ALWAYS SO JUMPY, NO WONDER YOU LIKE RABBITS…

“Edith…”

YES?

“Are you happy?”

YES, OF COURSE, WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME THAT?

“What do you consider being happy?”

Well, having everything I always wanted, that’s one. You are one of them.

------------

“So nice of you to include me in your universe.”

You are my universe Adrian, why do talk like I didn´t care about you?

“I´ve seen you, you only act protective now because you´re supposed to like any other person who has ever felt concerned about me. But then a few days ago I see you crying out alone, nostalgic.”

I WASN´T BEING NOSTALGIC, I FELT AFRAID BECAUSE I MIGHT LOSE YOU! YOU MIGHT NOT REMEMBER BUT YOU WENT THROUGH SOME HEAVY STUFF THAT NIGHT.

“Such as?”

I, I DON´T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT, IT´S SORT OF PAINFUL TO ME , THAT TELLS YOU BAD IT WAS. LOOK, THIS INCIDENT IS SUPPOSED TO BRING US TOGETHER, NOW MORE THAN EVER, DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS?

“That I am an idiot for being careless lately?”

Edith frowned upon this last statement; she placed her hands on my face and kissed me gently, “you scare me, you know that? But I think I´m beginning to know you better..” I understand you´re fearless, but you´re not indestructible. You don´t know what it´s like to lose something until it happens.”

She was right. I couldn’t tell her that I missed her terribly when she was away. I guess feeling weak does count, but eventually I´ll get stronger.

“I´ve been seeing things, Edith,” I said. “Can you help me explain them?”

Now I´m not saying that she had all the right answers, but I guess this would help her in her career formation. You see, she´s still in college, she´s on her last year now.

“You should be drinking less, that never does any good, you know that.”

“I understand that part, but, tell me, why do I have them, like I was being haunted?”

Edith pulled back her hair and spoke with a slight pause. We sat down on the floor.

YOU´RE NOT MAD SWEETIE, you´re just going through changes. Old feelings, new feelings travel in your head all the time. However, if they´re not addressed in the proper way they become more evident, they become more intense until you take care of them. Now that you´re getting better your dreams should stabilize as well.

“Do you think I have some sort of power or gift like fortune tellers?,” I asked that just for fun.

WE ALL DO. BUT MAYBE SOME PEOPLE DON´T BECOME AWARE THAT THEY HAVE IT. THE MIND IS A VERY POWERFUL MUSCLE, YOU CAN MAKE REAL ANYTHING YOU WANT AND BELIEVE IN IT. Fortune tellers convince people that they will have a happy life, it´s not magic.

“Fuck…”, my eyes started watering. “Listen to me, all I want is some decent answers.”

LOOK, DON´T FORCE YOURSELF TO DO THAT, IT MIGHT BE JUST A WAY THAT YOU NEED TO BELIEVE IN SOMETHING, YOU DO BELIEVE IN GOD, DO YOU?

“That´s the problem, I rarely pray like you do, but I´m no atheist or anything. I am attracted to what I can´t explain though.”

EVEN IN ART THERE´S NO EXPLANATION SOMETIMES, EVERYBODY SEES WHAT THEY WANT TO SEE.

I´ll have to say this girl was wise beyond her age. She felt comfortable talking to me, like in a motherly attitude, yet she only talks about what she knows best, not about art, that´s why I said from the beginning she´s non-artistic.

SO WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO RIGHT NOW?

“Get me out of here for a while! I´m tired of being locked up like an animal.”

I´LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO. LET ME OPEN UP THE WINDOWS FOR YOU.

“Edith,” I moaned. “I am hungry, and I mean very ,very hungry.”

NOW THAT SOUNDS MORE LIKE YOUR USUAL SELF. COME DOWNSTAIRS. I´LL FIX SOMETHING FOR YOU.

---------------------

Edith, my non-artistic follower, it’s weird that she sticks with me after that incident we had two years ago.

She lived here in my big old magnificent loft which is located in the heart of Soho, my primordial source of inspiration. Some say that it has grown so much in this last decade to the point that it has lost some of the mystique that made it possible that the artistic community achieved new heights. I never actually cared about those details.

I wanted this place so badly because I felt it chose me. It figures but then again I should warn you, it attracts vermin.

We lifted some controversy because we had been the best of friends and not sharing any intimacy. However, the first time we did it I felt guilty and she was scared. She ran away from me like a frightened little girl from a monster. Now she behaves like a groupie.

She gave something that I haven’t tried in years, vegetable soup, she said it would be good for me.

After that I fell into a very deep sleep on the leather couch in the living room. I think I was under the impression that I had a lucid dream.

The lighting was all blue, a royal blue to be exact.

After I crossed to the other side of a so called looking glass I was walking down a hallway that was filled with dozens of small paintings and my immediate response was that I wept and stood crestfallen as if somehow I knew what was about to come. I went into an operating room. I saw myself tied up to the table while vicious human like creatures with headlights scrutinized every last part of me.

At this point I realized if they had done more things to me back in the hospital like an operation of some sort. I asked Edie a bit more and she just bothered to say this:

“Well, it seems that you were having a hard time  breathing but you shouldn’t torture yourself asking these questions, you say that your work is done?”

“Depends on what you call work,” I answered.

“The paintings, silly!”

“I know what you’re talking about, I was just testing you!”

By now she noticed that I was a tad superstitious and that I had a nasty habit of not showing anyone my work before it was exhibited but in her case I made an exception.

“Do you like them?” I asked as I got out of the couch.

“How can I like them if I haven’t even seen them?” she said.

“Of course you have but you may not remember...” So I took away the cloth from the canvas which roughly measured 70 by 23 inches. It had a tall stylized red rabbit, the last one I saw before I lost consciousness. Strangely, however I noticed some slight changes to the overall look. It was splattered with blood and I could tell because the stains had turned maroon instead of the Indian Red I had used on this piece. Luckily Edith could never tell the difference, she would just assume that I put it there for some reason.

“Well?” I asked.

“It, um, looks gruesome but there’s no doubt it will grab attention, what do you call it?”

Originally I did know what this one was about. I traced my childhood memories all the way back to a time when I ‘ran away’ from home.

It was both funny and sad. I grabbed a backpack full of all my crayons and sketchbooks and bundled up in the middle of a cold winter morning while everyone else was asleep.

The Black River, one of the biggest if not the only which crosses Elyria was a recurring hideaway for me and that required a lot of walking but I really didn’t give a damn, I must have been so desperate that all I wanted to do was to feel the wind in my face and just think about nothing at all.

While I stopped to catch my breath I couldn’t help noticing a small creature moving by the bushes nearby. It happened to be a small velvety black rabbit. His eyes were flaming red because they were colorless or so they told me. He looked at me as though I was a wolf or something and quickly disappeared into a road up ahead. It lead towards a portion of the Black River so I decided to follow him just like Alice followed the White Rabbit because I am still under the belief that in everyone’s imagination it will get you somewhere and also because he was so damn unusual.

I watched him as he jumped on top a flat rock and there he remained. I couldn’t resist to take out my sketchbook and to draw him as fast as I could. The most fascinating part is that he refused to leave that spot, almost as if he was waiting for me to come along. And so I did, I left my things behind and slowly began to walk across the frozen river.

Little did I know that the ice was so thin and began to crack. It was so sudden; my senses shut down as I began to sink and run out of oxygen. Luckily an old man who lived nearby found me and pulled me out like nothing at all. My reward; spending some hard time recovering. I couldn’t step outside for days and stay in bed. Mom and Dad forgave me for my rotten attitude and that this would be some sort of lesson. About the rabbit that I saw Mom said I could have made it up because she thought I was chasing the Black Rabbit of Inle; the infamous character in Watership Down that preceded death. Death seeks me, it's not my fault if it's on love with me.

History repeats itself this time. I didn’t learn anything special back then so what was I supposed to learn now?

I guess then it should be no problem to narrate what drove me to paint this gruesome piece.

There were wanted to use techniques I´ve never dealt with before. I hated oil paintings, but they always add a dramatic effect; using fur would be appropriate, but I couldn’t be allowed to use the real thing, they would hang me, not to mention it would be a longer process.

Fiberglass sounded interesting, riskier perhaps, leaves blistered fingers though, not to mention that it clings to any single part of your body you can imagine. Hmm…I took my chances...

They say music can soothe the savage beasts but in my case it's the entire contrary: it lights the darkest corners of my mind, will have to apply some special tricks to make this rabbit come out of his hole.

"Hi ho! Oh, we'll smoke the blighter out. He'll put the beast to rout. Some kindling, a stick or two, all this bit of rubbish ought to do."

"We'll smoke the monster out!"

So said the Dodo to the White Rabbit.

As my old man used to say,” if you don't have blistered, splintered, bruised and battered hands then you haven't lived enough.” No doubt about that, but that's not good advice for a suicidal person.

I plunged my hands into a tray of Indian Red paint, the same way a child would play with mud and then I literally slapped the canvas; I felt I was pouring my heart and soul into this one, that at some point it triggered some repressed memories, and I…I fell down on my knees and cried desperately. It was liberating.

Some words echoed in my head, “Turn me into something beautiful, turn me into something free...”

I was all by myself that afternoon, Edith came back a few hours later but I still told her about this experience. We tell each other everything. Anyway she said, “I believe this counts as therapy which is good. You decided to release your darkest demons. I’m proud of you, I really am.”

Funny, an old school teacher said the same things about what I did.

Back when I was in high school Lisa Summers talked me into making a portrait of her as soon as she became aware of my talents, she practically used me and I was okay with that.

Anyways, Lisa had the look of a classic goth of the 90s; she had natural black hair, brown eyes, white freckled skin, more or less skinny. She started developing a raspy voice from being an early smoker, that part I hated.

She lead this sort of double life. Lisa was a daughter of a minister so before she behaved like a saint but after school immediately she slapped on the black lipstick and heavy eyeliner like anyone could give a fuck.

One weekend when her parents went away on vacation she proposed that i should immortalize her as the thing that her dad would hate the most or just to piss him off. I didn’t see any problem with that.

At the time she owned a large siamese cat I called Sade, like the legendary Marquis de Sade. The girl was barely fourteen when she snatched a copy of “Juliet”  from a pile of books her father was using for a lecture. She thought she was being a sort of rebel yet I still considered her a poser that would grow up to have an average life still living in Elyria while attempting to survive rehab with a large family and married to some dumb fuck. Anyway seeing the two of them gave me the chills like this was a start of a deadly alliance.

It was my prized possession, not her, the painting. When I went back to school next Monday I thought it was the perfect excuse to show in art class. The teacher, a middle aged divorced woman probably in her forties patiently analyzed all of our works until she saw mine. She stopped and cried in a very snobbish tone,

“Dear child, what have you done?!”

“Don’t you like it?” I asked timidly.

“Adrian, while I admit that your talent is unique and that it does surprise me the only observation I have piece is the fact that you managed to make a portrait out of a normal person.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

She took and deep sigh and placed her bony hand upon my shoulder. “I expected more from you. I do want you to be a true artist but you cannot make things like these for the rest of your life. It is banal, useless, a real artist is bold enough to explore the depths of his soul and portray the angels and demons that dwell inside. Only if you show them to the rest of the world you will have managed to make a work of art and will be remembered for generations.”

I was shocked and I didn’t understand a word she said so I discarded the idea of making portraits for a long time, it was my strict policy. I never made one for my lovers and told Edith I wouldn’t do it for her either. Still, that didn’t rule out the possibility of making self portraits.

Edith told me it was superstition once again, imaginary things that haunted me like the monster under the bed and stuff.

----------------

I'm a big devil, or I must be one. Edith said she couldn't sleep well last night after what she saw. She told me that as a kind of side effect she remembered when she spent her days on the school playground. She recalled that she saw a friend of her being teased and laughed at.

"I...I think I felt compassion for those in need," she said softly. "I really wanted to help him, so we became best friends. We shared lots of things, but then for some reason we lost contact."

"And why haven't you tried to call him back?" I asked.

"I really don't know how to find him anymore...It’s just a flashback,” said Edith speaking nervously.

"What about those social network thingies like Facebook...?”

ADRIAN! WHO ARE WE TALKING ABOUT HERE, YOU OR ME?

"I was just being curious."

IT'S JUST A DREAM, YOU KNOW, MAYBE SOMETHING JOGGED MY DEEPEST MEMORIES, THAT'S ALL.

"Like what you saw yesterday?"

IT'S HARD TO SAY.IT'S NOT MAGICAL...OH...

She snapped and she looked back at me smiling deeply.

I BET YOU WANT TO KNOW IF WATCHING YOU WORK CAUSED ME THIS, RIGHT?

"Absolutely, woman!"

I'LL BE HONEST, I WAS MOVED...

"And," I said expecting something else, but I kept repeating teasing her swinging her arm playfully.

STOP IT! YES! YES! IT WAS SO INTENSE AND POWERFUL...

"Ewww," I said as I made a nasty look, "you said intenzze..."

I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT, BUT YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO WORK HARD ON IT...

Shit...All I wanted was for her to say "thank you", what the Hell was she thinking about? Oh...now I see.

Even she knew when my eyes lit up it meant I was seeking some feedback. We could talk for hours without even opening our mouths. One powerful gaze and the rest was history; one frown meant she grew puzzled at what she saw and I knew that it'd be harder for her to figure out what I was trying to say. It's like laying an unofficial seal of approval upon my work, even though anyone was welcome to give out its own interpretation, such as Chloe Smith, my agent. She is my OFFICIAL seal of approval.

She resembled a clone of legendary Mary Boone, except that she was half Indian half American and the attitude of a Bengal tiger.

The first time she got hold of me she said, “You’re not an artist!” So then, I had to give her credit, I was only 20 years old. “You may look like an artist, act like an artist, and even talk like one, but your so-called art certainly betrays you, boy!”  So then we sat down as Chloe began to lecture me:

“It has to come from the inside, from the gut! If it doesn’t cause an effect on the viewer then it’s worthless! But I like your style. You want to work me, work your ass off!”

I suppose that sort of counted as good advice. Everyone expects too much of me all the time and when it doesn’t happen, Miss Misery or depression doesn’t even have the decency to knock in my door and she rapes me.

-------------

I´m not familiar with the exact mechanics or chemistry that causes someone to dream, not even the ones that make nightmares possible but I can sense they have a pattern of some sort.

I´ve had recurring dreams in which I am downstairs in the kitchen, and all the family is gathered at the table. It seems that all the things that matter are planned there, an invisible force binds them and suddenly the table becomes a huge melting pot where ideas come alive but lately  it became a place for heated discussions.

For example, for some reason I keep feeding my “little brothers and sisters”. Remember those awful days as you grew up when your mother forced you to eat things you didn´t like such as broccoli sprouts? I did have a problem with vegetables like any other kid however they claimed I was “doing it wrong”, and I would go like, “I´m sorry but what am I doing wrong?” And here is where we focus on out little green friend because apparently if you don´t cut it right it won´t work.

The most ridiculous part of all was that it started this huge ass of a quarrel between me and my family members, especially my mom.

Coincidentally, that’s what Edith gave me the other day for lunch; it was to supposed to help me with the healing process but judging from what i experienced there are other parts of me that I need to heal on my own. Dreams like people are strange.

"It was a nightmare, I never had something like that in ages, and I woke up crying for no reason. You don't think I'm losing my mind now, do you?" I asked, putting my hands across my face.

WHY WOULD I THINK THAT? I REALLY WISH YOU COULD CALM DOWN FOR ONCE...

“Aww, now, don´t do that…”

Edith embraced me and continued, "You’re a mess, and I know that. But I’m not letting you go right now."

"It felt horrible like someone was punishing me," I said as I walked across the center of my bedroom crossing my arms, sobbing.

WELL THEN IF IT REALLY WASN'T YOU, THE BETTER. IT'S JUST SOME STUPID DREAM. YOU SHOULDN'T GIVE THOSE THINGS ANY MORE POWER THAN THEY ALREADY HAVE.

"But...DAMN IT!" I paused trying to calm down. "I know it's sort of pointless to act this way, Edith but I swear it felt so real, so clear, not like to the kind of dreams that make no sense."

Of course, this conversation was beginning to turn into some kind of interrogatory; I brought this upon myself.

“You know I’ve a strong tendency towards self destruction.”

ALRIGHT, MAYBE, MAYBE SOMEONE SHOULD COME DOWN HERE AND GIVE US A SECOND OPINION. NOT THAT I'M NOT QUALIFIED ON THE MATTER BUT MAYBE THERE'S SOME KIND OR ENERGY FLOWING WITHIN YOU.

I stopped for a moment and heavily underlined this sentence, "I'm sorry, energies?"

YES, WELL...

"What if I had a near death experience? Tell me; was I almost there or what?"

I CAN'T ANSWER THIS, I'M NO PSYCHIC, I'M A PSYCHOLOGIST, NOT THE SAME THING. But I think I know someone, let me check my contacts...

"Edith..." I whispered, "I'm sorry for being such a bastard, there are some things even I, I can't explain..."

COME HERE.

She embraced me again, so tightly and slowly found some refuge within my slender mouth. I felt sort of absolved from some kind of sin. My eyes clouded and the blood started rushing back into my system, no need for clothes now.

She knocked me down, I didn´t know she had that much strength and acted playfully and giggled.

I ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THAT...

"You are strange," I said as I managed to land on my elbows, "but then again I made you this way."

-----------

So then after giving it a lot of thought I convinced Edith to take me to see  a psychic. I hesitated; I confess that shit still gives me a hard time but when I guess that you've ran out of all possible explanations I guess I can take it. The truth is it was far more professional and discreet than I realized. We made an appointment in the afternoon around six o' clock. The rain was fair, but as soon as it cleared out it was chilling my bones. I’m a very well known person around these parts so I opted to wear some shades.

The place was beyond fancy, I must admit, but rather kitsch. I bottled up my comments until the time was right. The psychic’s name was supposed to be Ava or something like that. She was a rather old woman, beyond her sixties. Her gaze was incredibly stunning; she looked at me as though I was her son and I was being punished for doing something nasty.

SO, TELL ME ADRIAN, WHEN WERE YOU BORN?

It seemed a natural question for any Tarot card reader so I answered politely, “January 29th 1981.”

GOOD FOR YOU! YOU STILL LOOK SO YOUNG AND FRESH. WILL YOU JOIN ME WITH SOME TEA?

I couldn’t say no, she insisted because it would relax me. After that, we both sat on a round table covered with a handsomely decorated velvet cloth. Afterwards she ceremoniously unveiled a pack of cards from a purple handkerchief; she said the color was important.

YOU ARE ALLOWED TO ASK THREE QUESTIONS, MY DEAR. ONE IS FOR YOUR CAREER; THE OTHER IS FOR LOVE AND THE LAST ONE IS YOURSELF.

I had no doubt about love or my career since both seemed to be well balanced, but as my mom used to say, “Assuming if a very big mistake in this life.”

Ava asked me to lay my right hand upon the deck and cut in two. Later I shuffled the cards, and then she spread them for me for form a cross with ten cards. The rest, she saved them for later.

The first card she discovered was The Star.

“You are Aquarius, right? It is your ruling sign,” she said pointing at the illustration. The Star is a beautiful, blond naked woman underneath a starry sky, no comments.

“Well,” she continued with a rather energetic tone, “you are in a very good moment of your life dear; see this is the time where you begin to flourish and unravel your true self. Intuition and creativity are essential for your everyday work and now they will increase…”

“That’s rather interesting, but,” she interrupted me, “BUT, NOTHING! You want to know why it really happened, right? your mind is bursting with questions.”

She unveiled the next card, “a sad, unfortunate event caused this and it was provoked by you,” she said as she showed the Four of Cups; some fellow under a tree.

“A loss...that still hurts doesn’t it? Yet, there’s so much more beyond that. APATHY; MY, MY MY…THESE FEELINGS ARE NEGATIVE AND OBVIOUSLY BRING DESTRUCTION. BUT THEY ALSO MAKE WAY TO A NEW BEGINNING...

"And..." I said softly.

"The apathy comes from overindulgence, the King of Pentacles reversed. It seems that a part of you if very, very ambitious. Your work is designed to bring another kind of compensation, are you afraid to fall or obsessed with something?"

That was true. Nobody in their right mind would choose to become an artist in my hometown so they would either choose any random job they could possibly find and survive. I was trying to escape. A part of me wants to go back and the other pulls away.

The next card spoke for itself, "Seven Of Pentacles. The past comes back to haunt you again and again. The anxiety of achieving things.You don´t have any trouble doing that but if that tendency continues, then you will get nothing. Imagine you were selling something so beautiful but you never realized its actual worth.”

"I´m confused. You got me speechless," I answered softly.

"Luckily, that´s not the case. Your art is more precious than you think. Thanks to these apparently painful events you will be able to see things clearer. It is best that you remain this way; its suits you and makes you even more attractive."

Next, came the Hierophant; a sort of pope, I think it was. "People will come to you freely, no questions asked; a beacon of hope for others, turning something tragic into something beautiful and infinite. Then..."

Ava stopped and looked puzzled as she unveiled the next Tarot Card, "someone´s already knocking at your door, is it? Someone in need, someone with less resources than you, someone who feels like a nobody, a forgotten one...oh." The Five Of Pentacles it was.

"Can you tell who´s been bothering me now?" I asked.

I DON´T SEE THINGS, I FEEL THEM, ADRIAN! Besides, people will come to you freely for advice, you will be a magnet, soon, soon...

"Soon, how soon is that?" I laughed. By now I was beginning to feel like I was stuck in the middle of a mad tea party.

---------------

“Oh, they´ve started already; dreams affect you, you experience the pain, do you? It´s simple, we are human, and you are deeply emotional. The more you suffer, the more evident it becomes for others to follow you,” said Ava.

I got up and shouted, “why am I supposed to suffer? This is fucked up!”

I remember seeing a card with a man waking from an apparent nightmare; The Nine of Swords, she mentioned. Oh, that was so me so I felt my heart beating rapidly.

“It´s not always about pain, dear, we have to listen to them as they come. These thoughts are designed especially for you, the spiritual world would never give you more than you can handle. Be prudent with who you talk to from now on. People in the business won´t notice that you´ve become more empathetic and sensitive, so emotional intelligence is a must.”

She unveiled the Five of Wands, she said between the lines that it´s the competition; you know, people trying to get a piece of the pie, everybody wants a bit of fame every now and then, a protagonist if you will.

The Two of Wands was one of the last ones to come out. “You still are that young boy with a huge determination to change the world and those people around you. So follow the incredible wisdom provided by the Star,” and then she pointed at the first card I saw. “With it, not only will you become a better person, but you will turn into,” and then she pulled out the last one, “the Emperor, an undisputed leader…”

The reading didn´t end yet. “What about love?”

“Are you doubtful? Well, let´s see,” she said. Her delicate voice was starting to sound more like a lullaby. She drew another card on top of The Star. “There seems a really interesting chemistry going on between you,” and then I saw the Two of Cups, “the understanding is quite well, but,”

I didn´t like the sound of that, “but I see that she´s expecting something else from you, and I know that´s everybody´s nightmare,” then I saw a woman with a lion, the Strength, she called it. She had a halo shaped like the symbol of infinity. “ It is a huge deal of strength against your weak will and helplessness; the Eight of Swords. But don´t let her take control over the situation one hundred percent, grow little by little so that both of you can have strong roots, otherwise,”

“Otherwise, what?” I said.

“The relationship fails, my boy, that´s all. You are strong, very strong, but she can also perceive your frailty and that´s what sickens her. Anything like that will cause someone to tumble down easily, The Tower.”

Ava took a deep sigh, “and now, a final word of advice, the last card; the Wheel of Fortune; expect the unexpected, other than that you´re free to go. The future belongs to those who are willing to listen and do something with it. It´s not written in stone, it can always turn around and change.”

As far as I was concerned, I understood very little. For a fact my visions were here to stay, so I would just need to control them. I don´t know how the Hell I was supposed to do that, but somehow they would soften in the next days.

SO HOW DID EVERYTHING GO, ADRIAN?

“I´d say it´s only beginning, Edith.”

BUT YOU DON´T SOUND TOO OPTIMISTIC.

“Uh, no, I´m not, I wanted these strange visions to go away, but the only solution is to face them as they are.”

IT´S NOT THAT BAD;YOU´LL SEE THAT THINGS WILL CHANGE FOR THE BEST; FOR BOTH OF US.

Edith wrapped her arms around me like a child, “this a blessing, that puts you one step ahead of everyone else in this business, so, consider yourself a winner; very few people have this.”

Like I said a long time ago, "I´m not God, I don´t pretend to be, I´m just lucky."

------------

This encounter stirred things up for me. It was like being taken over by a landslide. The rain kept falling hard and somehow managed to produce a sense of calmness. I stayed out a bit before I entered the building until I was completely soaked.

“Sweetie, you should know better,” said Edith somewhat upset. “Come inside, you don’t want to get sick again, do you?”

“Keeping in mind all the things that I was told I am under the impression that I live in a haunted house.”

“That’s ridiculous, have you ever had that sort of experience in all this time you lived here?” she said unimpressed. “Here...” She wrapped me up in a towel and then she nodded.

I smiled and said, “What?”

“Nothing, you’re are nothing but an enigma.”

It was then when another inevitable flashback came and it had to do once again with Daniel.

To this day I'm clueless about what drove me to invite him into my life.

The day after Edith was gone I had the usual symptoms of any common breakup, either I overslept or was losing sleep, crying for no reason, compulsively masturbating but somewhere along the way came a mysterious dream.

I saw myself traveling back to Elyria. For some goddamn reason I took a bus, something I would rarely do at this point in my life. The roads, they resembled the tracks of a rollercoaster, a very fucked up rollercoaster.

As soon as I arrived I decided to pay a visit to my old man, Adam. The overall look of the city was decadent, like a post apocalyptic scene complete with bikers and stuff.

It took me awhile to find my dad because he wasn't at home or his regular job. He was right in the middle of an abandoned neighborhood and he acted like a street artist. While some dreams can get rather unusual my reaction was indifferent. I just made some small talk such as, "So how are things doing?"

And then he said, "Not so good son but I'd like to watch the show, it's quite good."

The spectacle opened with the act of a tiny furry monster who held his paws up in the air. He lived in a big house made entirely of gold. It opened with a wind-up mechanism and as soon as it revealed every last corner of that enchanted dollhouse a swarm of roaches and rats entered and caused an invasion. A strange battle took place and in the end the damn roaches won. Something rather symbolic I must say that I still can't figure out.

After that my life became invaded by the presence of another type of vermin. He knew exactly which buttons to push to turn me on. What I found devilishly wonderful is that with Daniel I didn't to pretend; he took away all of my inhibitions. He was like a fucking drug and as it was more than expected he became addictive and so was his dark music. He was a vampire to be exact.

-----------------

“Darling...” said a feminine deep voice. “I need to talk to you.”

That was Chloe. I knew she couldn´t live without me.

“So, how have you been?” she said.

“Everyone´s keep saying that quite frankly I´m beginning to blush. No, I´m actually recovering from basically...everything.”

“I know exactly what you´re talking about.”

“You don´t need me, take my art, I could half dead and you´ll be feasting from the millions and millions of dollars you´re probably gonna make.”

“Right, I can see you still have a sense of humor and arrogance written all over you. So it is finished then?”

“Me, or the paintings?”

“The work, please. I need you to send me the samples by the end of this week, we´re actually a little bit behind, you don´t want to keep them waiting.”

“At once, my Queen.” I´d like to call her that way and online she appeared under the nickname RedQueen15. And I, like in that vision was The White Rabbit. Now the circle is complete.

----------------------

Now that I decided to come back to life on the web I decided to check my profile page to see how many naive fans would expect to have an answer.

Wait, I believed I had a random question about pets.

“I´ve never been fond of having pets; my mother had this strange belief that they would bring me allergies or something. No big deal, even when I had the chance they lived so little. One time I had this gorgeous Siamese cat with big blue eyes and smooth fur like the color of sand. She was a very tough one; even the dogs in the neighborhood were afraid of her. She got kind of slutty as the years went by not to mention very spoiled do one tragic day Mother threw her away with all her litter. She broke my heart after that and I stopped talking to her for weeks.

Rabbits are different; they´re so much easier to handle, they´re incredibly quiet but at the same time incredibly sensitive. Have you ever heard these critters squeal? It´s fucking awful. They´re very notable at hiding; Scraps keeps looking out for new and interesting places. When I find him under the bed I know he won´t go there twice, he remembers that place is no longer safe. Other than that, he just lays his cute butt at my desk watching me work.

Other posts came about:

How old are you Adrian, if you don´t mind me asking… says a fourteen year old from a random town in Illinois.

“Well, in reality I´m 29, do you realize you're half my age? Don´t give me naughty ideas.”

What are your biggest influences? asks Kevin.

“I´m a child at heart, my man; I was always hooked on Surrealism, Fauvism and Expressionism. Mostly, Henri Matisse and Miró´s style caught my attention powerfully. I loved their organized chaos.”

Where are you living at now? Asked a fellow artist nick-named dirtyrabbit

“That´ll be privileged information; not even my girlfriend knows. I have to drug her everytime she comes down here.” In reality, I have my rabbit hole in upper Soho, New York City.

Are you showing something soon? I really wish you could come to Australia, I´m a big fan, asked Kelly.

“Sure, my art is omnipresent; but come visit me anytime.”

What are your favorite techniques, asked misterabbit.

“Acrylic please, over anything I can possible lay my hands on; oils and pastels I reserve them for more dramatic effects. There was one time I drained my pens at school drawings holes and spirals in my notebooks. I could go all night.”

Can you make big money from being an artist? Asked Xxgr3aton3xX

“Sure, because America needs it to survive; art saves lots of minds so that´s why it´s well paid,” I answered laughing big time.

Scraps stretched out and slightly opened up his mouth. For a minute there he reminded me of my Siamese cat, but this guy was softer and cuddlier and after a while quite disturbing. I wonder if rabbits dream like we do.

-----

Lately these meds are making so damn sleepy. After I completed some tasks I decided to take a nap. I’m pretty sure this has happened to a lot of people that you sleep for about, let’s say an hour or two and you wake up feeling that you’ve been away for a longer time. I felt I went back to the past.

“That’s odd, he usually startles in front of strangers,” I said as I watched Daniel stroke the white rabbit I called Scraps.

“He’s seems to be such a beautiful creature, he did grow up to resemble his owner.”

“What if I told you I grew up to resemble him?”

“Do you like furry?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a fetish where people dress up like animals and sometimes with sexual results. I do it all the time.”

“I’m not the fetish kinda of person but I’m fearless. It would just be between you and me.”

“Halloween’s coming up so no one will even notice and afterwards we can have even more fun you and I...”

I woke up to find myself thrown in the couch and covered with a thin soft blanket . It seems  Edie must have done that. I also noticed something and furry running across my back. That was Scraps. She asked me once why did I call him that way out of all the cutesy names I could have chosen but I kindly explained, “He reminds me of whatever is left of my childhood  or the scraps.” He has plenty of space in his cage but he notices there’s something disturbing he jumps slightly, even Edie knows that. In fact, that was the way she found me, otherwise I would have died. Somehow history repeats itself and because of a damn white rabbit.

Black rabbit, white rabbit, life or death, purity or obscurity, love or lust, gay or straight, why am I always caught up between two worlds. Not enough tall, not enough skinny, not enough beautiful, not enough talented, not enough sexual experiences, not enough money, not enough fame, not enough pain. Not enough friends or maybe just one, the right one, the one who gives a fuck and listens, the one who cares.

What if the only one I ever needed was right there in front of me? Nah.

She did leave a note in my desktop which said:

“I hope you’re feeling better now, since it’s Thanksgiving soon I’ll be out for the weekend., you know how things are and I’d wish you could come with me. Luv ya!”

And I wish I could behave like a normal person too and attend these social conventions with my folks but that wasn’t going to happen just yet, I had other business to take care of.

------------

I sat down waiting for the rain to stop but I could see that it was gonna take a while. Edith wasn´t around to comfort me; she flew to Michigan to visit her parents for Thanksgiving like she promised, so for a few days I´d to be the man of the house.

Ever since my close encounter with Ava, the Tarot lady I grew more curious of these random esoteric subjects. Somewhere along the way I read that 3 AM was labeled as a bewitching hour, which was opposite to 3 PM; the hour in which supposedly Jesus Christ died. It must be Daniel’s ghost again. No clue, all I could think of was finishing my work. I kept the lights on while I began recording each painting on film.

What I did notice is that Scraps was an all-nighter; he kept jumping up and down like crazy. I took him out for a while and curiously we were both startled at the sound of thunder. Then it progressively went away but it had a rather soothing effect to induce sleep…Oh, what the Hell, I needed a glass of wine. I think I still had some Merlot from 2002, ruby red; one of my favorite colors. I guess that did it, now I was knocked out. There goes that bewitching hour.

Next I grabbed a large sketch book and began scribbling what was called automatic drawing; sometimes it made sense sometimes it didn´t. I came up with what seemed to look like a funny twiggy man in the middle of the forest. There were three puddles of water in front of him. I looked up and then I noticed the three narrow and large windows in my room. No big deal. The shape seemed fascinating though; childish, naïve, careless but not messy. That´s the way I used to draw when I was like five and scribbled on the walls with a red crayon. I believe I poked my unconscious once again.

So Chloe decided to hook me up with a young Japanese American artist named Janie Wu for a group exhibition. The gimmick was simple, “the bad boy from Soho meets the little girl who loves Shōjo.” The last one is a general term they use in Japan to label art dedicated to teenage girls. I haven´t seen her yet but she said she loved my work.

In the past it used to be very odd to find talented people from the Orient. I recall one time when I was in college that I went down to a local museum to check out what the Chinese and Japanese artists were up to in this era. And it turns out that they had lots of interesting tricks to show. There was an installation with many diaries containing the same word (don´t ask me which one it was, it was written in kanji) the objective was that the concept of repetition guaranteed eternity. I guess some of that rubbed off with me and the rabbit. Nowadays the Japanese invasion in modern art has become more evident; their execution scares me sometimes. Janie´s style was sweeter and more sophisticated for massive consumption, kind of like those Hello Kitty images from a long time ago but with a futuristic twist.

Coincidentally Janie did some pieces with rabbits however these were tremendously abstract and disgustingly cute. She managed to minimize her subjects to fancy, voluptuous shapes and enhanced them with pastel tones accented with fine gold leaf. And she was only 21 and her work was indeed trendy. In her hometown a team of street artists helped promote her inviting vignettes on a bigger scale. That´s the beauty of it; she wasn´t just limited to galleries and in a way it´s true, art should be seen everywhere but at some point you have to realize it´s going to become a piece of merchandise.

For this show I was already prepared, that´s why I couldn´t go with Edith, also it was overdue. It was supposed to take place two weeks ago. But apparently my name had more weight in America than Janie´s.

I opened a series of files my agent sent me about two days ago. I thought of this gallery as a lair for my wicked art. As I kept looking through the slides I noticed these images of a guy who gladly offered to dress in a sort of vintage bunny outfit on my opening night. This situation was getting sort of eccentric, but I was used to it.

I was far too busy to even think about what happened last night. Another friend of mine came along, James. I care about his friendship because he takes me bar hopping in New York, and after these incredibly painful weeks where I almost heard the voice of God talking to me I really needed some distraction. Screw the rain; it never stopped me.

“Hey, Bunny Man? You shouldn´t be all alone tonight, if you know what I mean,” said James. He was shorter than me, ironically he looked like one of those old school Goths who still worshipped bands like Bauhaus, Joy Division and The Sisters of Mercy. We used to frequent this place called The Hideout and swim into an ocean of depression for about three hours until we realized it was time to go back to art school. I did meet some interesting women over there. But they had this crazy idea, like most naïve girls that they could pose for a nude painting and I went like, “you´re gonna have to earn your place in that canvas.” I wasn´t very recognized back then and I´m talking about seven years ago.

“I heard you had a near death experience, izz that true?” asked James so cynically.

“Sure, but then again who the Hell told you that?” I said as I threw on a black sweater.

“Bad news runs around quicker than jizz, man…Edith told me. Anyways, so good you´re not dead.”

James looked at me in a very odd way, “Are you sure you´re OK? Sure, you look like you could use some color  but there´s still something different and can´t put my freaking finger on it.”

“Well…” I said in a very fake tone, “you could say that I was born again…”

My short friend was on fire laughing, “Fuck that shit man, c´mon let´s get out of here…”

It was gonna take a miracle for someone like James to understand my supernatural experiences; this meant that I was about to develop a second life and I´d already thought of the best place to hide it; deep within the canvas, the doomed canvas that is.

I took one last look in the mirror; I was wearing a leather jacket and black beanie that had the words “mauvais garçon” embroidered on it, “vous passez un bon soir, mauvais garçon. Have a good night, bad boy…”

------------

We cruised around the neighborhood beneath the starry sky. A slight breeze came about and we stumbled upon a night club that had been shut down for quite some time. We knew that hole rather well, that’s where all the devils like us hung out and so did my ex-lover.

I guess you could say that he was haunting me or hunting me waiting for the right time.

We met at this nightclub conveniently called The Hole down in Mercer Street. Edie left because her dad couldn’t stand the idea of her daughter being raised by a deviant. She had grown up in a very conservative lifestyle and her parents saw me as some kind of threat, and I am a threat.

The place had very poor lighting except for some screens which constantly played random surrealistic content enough to blow your mind...among other things.

That night I went out solo, James suggested me this underground spot just for the fun of it, and because he was impossibly hooked on all that dark, eighties goth scene. I tried not to be that flashy as I wanted to remain as invisible as possible. I dressed all in black, but I still looked good in it, I always do.

I had promised myself not to get involved with anyone else that night but like Edith said once, “you are very codependent,” like she was trying to stamp it to my forehead. I knew that already but I acted very much like I wasn’t. This on and off relationship of ours wasn’t well defined yet like when a painting lacks a name it remains as simply, “Untitled.”

What was relevant though was that I encountered someone I hadn’t seen in ages but wasn’t particularly a friend, just an uncomfortable acquaintance from college; the name was Stefan, and apparently he was flying high working  as a personal designer from some Brooklyn based female singer.

“And she has amazing ideas, this girl, I tell you!” cried Stefan . “She’s success guaranteed, so  we are assembling this small company we call Hell’s Closet. Hey, you did some modeling, maybe I could get you hooked up with some friends I got up in  Madison.”

I nodded and acted somewhat intimidated, “No, you don’t understand, I actually aim for the visual arts at this moment. They had just offered me a one man show this winter and right now I’m in the middle of it. So far I’ve done 11 pieces out of 22.”

“Such a shame...” said Stefan. “S-s-so, are you here all by yourself or are you seeking some company?”

“It might happen. I’m trying to live with myself first.”

“Oh, come on, Adrian, I know you!” Then he paused while he was toying with a half empty glass, “You can’t deny your true self, so deal with it.”

“I beg your pardon,” I replied.

“I have this friend. His name is Daniel Hyde.”

“Ah...sure, he models.”

“Particularly, yes. And since you are in the same business I see no harm if the two of you met.”

He showed me a recent picture on his phone and I must admit that the man was eye candy, more like the androgynous type; fine chiseled face, ridiculously skinny and a body that was about to scream “fuck me.”

“Sounds too good to be true, I wonder if this pic is ‘shopped,” I said.

Stefan laughed, “Come on, you don’t believe me? In fact, he’s over there by the bar.”

I paused, “You know, I can’t don’t fully understand why you’re offering him to me so freely when you had this terrible obsession over me back in college, or need I say more?”

“Yeah, but like you say; it was just an obsession, poof, now it’s gone!” said Stefan. “Besides...” and then he whispered into my ear, “he’s experienced. He’s been places, but I can assure you he’s clean.”

“Is that a fact?”

“We’re still friends, right? Why would I want to fuck you over?”

“Vengeance, perhaps?” I said.

“Look, you come from similar worlds so you’ll have no trouble hooking up...”

“Fine...but,” and I said pointing out, “I guarantee you it will be a one night stand, mark my words.”

Daniel joined us afterwards. He walked in with such a dramatic amount of confidence with a drink in hand and could barely notice he was wearing a striped large and several silver rings on both hands. His cut was short and sleek, he was in his mid twenties, probably younger than I was.

I could tell this was a bad idea from the beginning. Bi and gay people rarely have a chance

in my most sincere opinion because they expect you to walk towards the same road without ever being allowed to look at other women and I didn’t want that. Maybe I was thinking ahead of time, maybe I should let things go smoothly.

He made the first move, “Well, I heard a lot about you but they didn’t tell me you were that hot..”

“Is that right?” I said. “I’m just doing what I do best; I provoke.”

The kid laughed and continued surprised, “Such as?”

“Emotions, a cataclysm of emotions, even if they’re not always well understood; violence, horror, self abuse, etcetera, etcetera.”

“How come?” said Daniel while he conveniently reclined on the sofa.

“You’d have to see it to believe it,” I said.

“Could you take me there then?”

I smirked, “No...I honestly cannot show anything just yet but you could see some of my earlier work if that if that serves you of any comfort.”

“Marvelous. I do enjoy men who can do amazing things with their hands.” He whispered into my ear, "Let’s go then.”

So then went back to my place and as usual everyone becomes fascinated by it, must be the big space because they immediately think it’s expensive. I’m not ashamed to say what happened later. I wanted to receive, if that’s still the correct term.

My weak spot has always been the neck so he started there. The lights were out in my studio, there was only the moonlight coming from a large round window I leaned against.

Then he slowly worked his way down and unzipped me until he grasped my hips and rocked them so violently for one miserable second I thought he was devouring my dick. I never experienced such passion for someone like me. I felt so abandoned that it was hard to find a happy thought.

"Gawd, you´re beautiful, the more I keep exploring every inch of you it gets sooo much better," he said. “You’re certainly full of surprises...”

I continued, aroused, "I´m glad I make you happy, like a toy, aren´t I?"

"Yeah, but no matter how perfect toys are they could never do this..."

The next thing you know I closed my eyes and gave in, as I kept repeating inside my head, "Just give in, give him what he wants..."

So I came and knowing he was well trained he spit it out as if no harm had been done.

By then I was beginning to see ourselves in visions as a twins, one much more darker than the other. Now my workplace had been officially perverted.

------------

After our unsuccessful evening, James and I made small talk and I invited him to my upcoming live painting event. He said he would think about it.

After he left it seemed empty. There was no warmth in my place, just a big, empty cold space, almost suspiciously depersonalized.

I noticed a long time ago a strange pattern about the supernatural and it became evident whenever I slept in really old houses I fell under the impression that I saw ghosts in my sleep.

My folks took to this cabin up North to visit my aunt and uncle; I must have been around ten years old. Besides the uncomfortable feeling of freezing to death it was the first time being there, and I can still remember the intoxicating aroma of pine cones.

So in my dream I went downstairs to the kitchen to get a drink of water or something when I noticed a rather peculiar bunch of kids hanging around. They were all me, but at different ages. One of them was wearing a sort of Halloween costume, like a wizard. Apparently he was the leader and they threatened to kidnap me. Now that I think of it this scene reminded me very much of that cutesy sequence of Kidnap the Sandy Claws, but I was no big jolly fat man.

Now I am facing the same thing with Daniel. I swear I could feel his hands stimulating me  down there.

I jumped out of bed at about six in the morning feeling slightly aroused...I had to do something about it so I leaned back and finished what was started if you know what I mean.

God, I missed Edith, luckily she was gonna be back tomorrow.

-------

Blurry, everything looked blurry now...idle time never tasted so sweet and even more with the weather that slowly became more hideous. Ever since I got hooked up in this business my life has been one big circus performance after another. Up to now I haven't weighed my talent, I never had the need; why should I doubt at this very same moment of my life , but like James said, "there's something different about you but I still can't put freaking finger on it."

Ava, the Tarot Lady said I was the Star, not the literal star but what lies behind it.

"You are in a very good moment of your life dear; see this is the time where you begin to flourish and unravel your true self. Intuition and creativity are essential for your everyday work and now they will increase…”

This is the moment where I said, "I wanna get off this ride."

But as I recall a quote from Life Lessons with Nick Nolte:

"It's art. You give it up, you were never an artist in the first place."

And that's exactly where this wicked dilemma began. At the same moment, with impeccable timing came the tune of Right Where It Belongs by Nine Inch Nails to mind. I was always a die-hard fan; the only thing that fueled the darkest corners of my psyche.

What if everything around you

Isn't quite as it seems?

What if all the world you used to know

Is an elaborate dream?

And if you look at your reflection

Is it all you want it to be?

What if you could look right through the cracks

Would you find yourself

Find yourself afraid to see?

Mr. Sun, Mr. Golden Goddamn Sun, where were you when I needed you the most? This may be the last time I see you until the freaking snow kicks in. A soft tone cut the silence like a knife. Someone was at the door, I recognized that voice...

HEY, SWEET THING, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? DID YOU MISS ME?

“Hey, Chloe, how´s it going?”

"You don´t sound so hot right now, that´s bad luck." She looked glamorous as usual, this time some very wide D&G´s like he had a monstrous hangover, so did I.

"Aw, don´t come to me talking to me about curses..." We came upstairs to the big studio to check the pieces for my one man show. She looked at Ritual and he instantly fell in love with it.

THIS IS POWERFUL; THIS IS INDEED POWERFUL. I CAN´T POINT OUT WHAT IT IS ABOUT IT, BUT ITS SPEAKS FOR ITSELF. YOU DID IT AGAIN.

I just stared at him like an idiot as I clutched my mug of coffee. And this was only the beginning.

-------------

I have acquired a new mantra for myself, "art is a deadly weapon, please handle it with care." It came out right after careful observation from my dearest agent and other potential buyers. I always tend to envision them, even the expression of awe and absolute fascination before a show. But at other times they can be very tricky; they don´t move a muscle, when they´re ready they just point and say, "how much?" I had to very keen instead of being naïve from now on, after all this is business not pleasure. Still, it thrills me to see people happy like kids on a playground or back home when I used to run out in the middle of a storm. This is organized chaos. This lonely rabbit felt helpless in a big city; it was like staring at a very peculiar breed in a pet store, it already had a fixed price.

The riskier this business becomes the more it ignites my passion for living. I thought I lost that feeling because apparently these recent years after college have become like being in Eden. I was automatically exempted to earn my place here in the heart of Soho. I love it; we also have another ´lair´ for art disaster in LA, but for some reason New York has grown on me; I can´t believe I was roaming the same neighborhood that Basquiat did.

I´VE BEEN SO CRAZY ABOUT YOU LATELY, ADRIAN, THESE LAST DAYS I´VE BEEN THINKING I FEEL I´M HOME WITH YOU...

A text message from Edith, and she ends with cutesy hearts, doesn´t everybody do that these days...

I called her back. I couldn´t help it.

"I got your message, you´ve successfully defined our relationship; it´s amazing how something so beautiful came out of a very trivial device." Edith chuckled and continued, "what´s that supposed to mean?"

"Analyze that, will you, or you can take it to the grave," I continued, spinning around the room just for fun, or maybe because I felt spoiled.

“How was your weekend?”

Now was my turn to laugh,"Believe it or not it’s been normal. No..." I turned my head as I saw more people coming in, important people, "...but it’s about to get more exciting.”

I...I´LL COME DOWN SOON.

"You don´t want me to come down and rescue you, because I could if you want me to."

JUST KEEP DOING WHAT YOU´RE DOING; AFTER ALL YOU´RE REQUESTED ELSEWHERE.

This is business, not pleasure, dammit.

-----------------

Graffiti and street art have been like the naughty children of muralism, but one fine day they feel nostalgic and want to come home. Seeing the work of Janie made me think of that. A seductive young girl can stop traffic but her modern monsters devour the walls like a sweet Godzilla on acid, or something like that.

Janie's team arrived at my studio horrifically early and my studio progressively started to turn into a circus ring. Sometimes I have to do crazy shit like snap my fingers from time to time to avoid losing concentration.

The promising artist from Tokyo came from the district of Harajuku; a place that I do not recommend to go if you're tripping on any random drug. She was participant of an art movement dubbed Superflat, which I believe is a fair equivalent to Pop Art however they did it louder and bigger.

Ms. Wu didn't look short like the 'purebred' Japs, thus she said she came from a Chinese dad, a Japanese mother but she was born right here in New York by mere accident. Still, she returned to her roots and decided to join the troops of the likes of Murakami, the infamous Kaikai Kiki. She considered him the equivalent of Andy Warhol.

"Oh, but there's another girl who loves animals, she goes by the name Chinatsu Ban, but she does elephants! She has been here actually."

"Funny, I like rabbits," I answered. "But they're not pretty, they're kinda scary."

"We'll see about that, pretty boy..." said Janie. You see this event was to grab more attention because it was the first time I collaborated with these well trained individuals; for some reason America has fallen in love with the idea of collaborations, East meets West sort of gig, or as they labeled it "Soho vs Shojo". It included a series of live paintings, you know me against Janie. I knew it was gonna be a tough pill to swallow it's no wonder why I wanted to just snuff it like Alex de Large would say.

I saw her stare at a piece I did some time ago called Go Easy On The Eyeliner. She stood there like a kid nodding. She had a look that took me all the way back to the days old days of Gwen Stefani; she had a laced tank top, wide pants and a rather handmade backpack resembling a small rabbit with large floppy ears. I´m forced to believe that´s where she kept her paints.

She turned and looked at me and smiled, "I like this one! It´s sexy." To be honest it was an enlarged painting of Scraps enhancing the use of eyeliner and it was smeared across the canvas made with acrylic and oil; my favorite combination. Slowly I was beginning to realize how mesmerized they grew staring at the apparent innocence of God´s most vulnerable creatures.

Janie was twenty two years old and I was about to cross the terrible thirties. It wasn´t the first time we had one of these collaborative experiences in our merry neighborhood. Last year we did have another one with a guy from Berlin and Pennywise, a street artist from Brooklyn. How was I crammed into this? I don´t know, but I was about to find out.

The act consists of a performance done by pairs; one begins painting an idea and it´s the next person´s job to improve it. Of course, you must never stray from what the work communicates; it´s not child´s play, it´s when two minds sync and literally get into the flesh of one another. I studied Janie Wu´s work for months but at some point felt intimidated by her power of execution. We weren´t going to beat each other to death, just learn so each could take back home their own experiences and influences.

The theme was supposed to circle around the utility of art and thus i suggested, "art as a weapon". So whatever happens after this event will remain for mankind to watch and admire. That´s why I concentrated my creative energies in these non-lucrative things; it was truly like being in a playground.

"You should name your exhibition Playground, it seems like one," whispered Janie. I was startled for a moment. "I´m sorry, this has been kind of a long day and I have to process a lot of stuff in my head, you were saying?"

"Don´t be scared, I´m not vermin. I understand you have your ways and I have mine," said Janie while she sat down on the hard maple wood floor.

For a moment there, I had a slight moment of dejá vu that took me all the way down to the encounter I had with the little girl in my visions.Was I to help her then or was she going to help me? There was only one way to find out.

Sometimes I feel 1:11 PM is such a long minute, it works for a lot of things besides lunch. On this particular occasion it served as contemplation. Janie and I, and her cohort created a labor of love, and, how could I describe this style? Japanese graphics enhance almost anything. Not that I´m underestimating what I did but still we managed to continue modern pop art, and it was dipped in more acid. Her abuse of naïve schoolgirls took me back to the times when pin-up girls were something else. They didn´t look degrading, they were powerful. M inked it carefully and on top of that I scribbled like any child would when they can get their hands on their first box of crayons.

But that was just a warm up. The real deal was to display our talent in a building located on Mercer Street, which was not so far away from my studio loft. We continued the spirit of such movements such as Wooster Collective; I had a thing for street art as well, that's why I had such a wide fan base. One time it occurred to me, while I was still at school to make stickers in the shape of a zoomorphic character leaping with the infinite symbol on its back. The style has changed over the years but the idea remains the same. At first nobody quite got the message. So later we decided to drench ourselves in fake blood or red paint but just the part of the shoulders. And on top of that I included the phrase on any available wall down in Spring Street: "Mauvais garçon du Mercer Street". While it became amusing to some, it was paganism to others. We scared the shit out of some people on Halloween.

As I mentioned in an interview a while ago if I ever painted things like that they would hang me and now you know. Even if this town might seem highly unconventional I found a way to make it more shocking. The events of the last decade reshaped our city in such an interesting way as we realized if we had gone a little bit way too far and for a while art had a cause and everyone I turned all I ever wanted was some answers. So then the 11 was now a symbol of what we lost; an open wound. Even I lamented the fact that Miro´s artwork was destroyed in the process.

I always saw a great deal of him in me, then again some poorly illustrated people would say, “you´re no Picasso, but it´s sure pretty,” as if he were the gauge for modern art. Couldn´t there be anyone higher than him? Did we reach perfection and we weren´t aware of it, then why are we still there doing what we´re doing? Well, I could tell you; he dug a hole someone already started like Braque but and they made it bigger and louder. Thus, its immensity attracts others. We all want a piece of it; it´s something even greater than money or fame or other fancy things. And while he may not have invented Cubism alone it´s still an idea for anyone bold enough to embrace it. I guess I borrowed some of Janie´s words in the previous sentence. So tonight I do hope we make this a bigger, louder meaner rabbit hole.

Edith arrived just in time. she was all wrapped up like a present in a rather baby pink scarf I could only see her blue eyes peeking. I heavily encouraged her to come since this is the moment she can see me in my full splendor. She was somewhat shy about these sorts of events, that´s why I called her conveniently “my non-artistic follower”, but most of my friends and colleagues knew she managed to blend in somehow.

YOU LOOK MORE RADIANT NOW…

“Do I?” I said. With so many activities going on I hardly noticed that; a hidden strength I suppose, mmm…Strength.

OF COURSE I´LL COME WITH YOU; IT´S SO INCREDIBLE THAT YOU GET TO WORK WITH PEOPLE FROM DIFFERENT CULTURES, I GUESS.

“And that´s the beauty of this town. The more I get involved with it the more they cherish my art. But quite honestly, Chloe insists that I should strongly consider taking our business to Chelsea, gotta move on.

-------------------

Blending in is such a bitch sometimes. And exactly how does an apparently insignificant boy from a remote town like Elyria is capable of achieving such greatness? Easy, you become a legend. Since I was never capable of defending myself with my fists I had to do it any other way. Art is my weapon, so the louder it went the better. Besides, the town always needed a little color and an identity. I was arrested several times but well worth it because the goal was to make the ideas linger, and I was all about ideas. We got lots of parents pissed off when we cruised the streets on Halloween nights. I was very fond of red and didn´t have any problem splattering white walls with paint with critters evoking famous serial killers.

Nowadays we continued to bring in a little chaos when others least expected it. The place was rocking, even some guys I hadn´t seen in years came all the way down to the merry land of SoHo where I dare say anything can happen. We even brought some interesting vermin from The New York Magazine and others from Berlin, and the rest from Tokyo. It sounded like fun but again at some point this turned into a serious business. Ever since the late 1990s street art became more specialized and carefully crafted forming entire teams. And yes, it´s still illegal. Yet now we had full access to produce chaos on a space roughly about 72 by 24 inches.

The show was divided in five teams, but the highlight was of course my collaboration with the Japan team known as Shojo One. They had their history as well but when they saw how incredibly sophisticated their aesthetic was they began to hire them for serious publicity, and that´s the point where an artist becomes a designer. I made fun of them sometimes saying that they were caught between two worlds but when I started getting commissions then I took it back; the customer is alwayzzzz right. For Janie Wu and her comrades this was going back a little bit to the old days when there was nothing tying them to the ground, and they jumped up and down like rabbits.

The young and the old watched patiently as we splattered the canvas with vibrant tones of red, white and blue with acrylic applied by hand and spray painting. The concept included some very wicked bunnies holding space age guns against a very messy background, courtesy of moi. That´s what it looked like in the end; we could change it as many times as we wanted since we applied a layer of white from time to time. M applied some final touches on the critters that Janie traced. Cuteness is not my cup of tea, but this was a huge deal to them; it´s an industry that attacked little kids, filthy adults and otakus; a sort of media-devouring geek.

The piece was untitled, yet the point is to have nothing prepared; a completely empty space. Then to some very mind-blowing tunes live painting is done before your eyes so that you can see art come to life instead of waiting for it to come out of a studio. Although it seemed like a very hot idea in fact it was exhausting. I think I lost some practice from my days on the streets, so it was going back to my roots in a way. In reality we finished the work in about two hours. Edith was sitting on the floor with her eyes fixed upon me and became my unofficial cheerleader. I think I even had groupies and I wasn´t even a rock star.

It seemed that Feivel, who had a very mean look like a mafia guy reeled in some potential clients for more commissions; some of them were more eccentric than I was. At the end of the evening the paintings that were sold were used to benefit The Black Cherry Collective; an aspiring group of street artists. They helped me once so in return I helped them. Still, others looked at me like I was the rabbit in a pet store waiting to be bought. Let´s hope I don´t have a nasty dream about this.

-----

"A hole, I went down a rabbit hole  and there I stayed until God when knows when. I´m out cold, knocked out, so don't bother me..."

COME AGAIN?

"The Hole..."

"Oh, wasn´t it that bar down Mercer Street," I think it was Edith, yes it was.

"Yes, that one," I answered imprisoned in my crimson sheets. "Good afternoon, I'm dreaming out loud..."

WHAT ABOUT IT?

"I did some very nasty things that night," I continued sort of mumbling and drowsy. "I think I kissed somebody and it wasn´t a girl..." I laughed cynically.

ADRIAN, I THINK THAT PLACE DOESN´T EXIST ANYMORE...

"I know that; it was just a dream. The Hole is always just a dream away..."

DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS; I THINK YOU OVERSLEPT BECAUSE I ALREADY WENT TO HAVE SOME PAPERS REVISED...

"And?" I continued to ask like I was on automatic mode, but what´s not automatic about my actions? Automatic writing, automatic drawing, automatic sex...whoops.

IT´S ABOUT USING ART AS A MEANS OF EMPATHY. There´s not much, but the work of this German guy,Worringer.

"Hmm, and?" I was still on automatic mode.

THAT´S WHAT I´VE BEEN WORKING ON THESE LAST FEW DAYS! I thought you should know because I need to find a topic for the thesis.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, now it´s all coming back to me. I think we can...discuss that later. I was supposed to have a meeting at 1 o´clock down at Balthazar.

WELL, IT´S 11 ALREADY.

"Really, oh dear; I´m late, I´m late, I´m late, the Queen will have my head cut off!"

"Fooled ya; it´s actually past ten. Come on, get up. Somebody came to see you and wants to go with you..."

I felt something small, furry and frisky being slipped into my arms..."Oh, hey there Scraps! Getting sexier every day I suppose.."

YOU KNOW, YOU JUST REMINDED ME OF A QUOTE FROM A MOVIE I SAW SOME TIME AGO...

"Which one?" I said as I placed Scraps on my shoulder; he was kind of warm.

"El Topo, by Jodorowsky. It went something like this:

"The mole is an animal digging underground galleries seeking the sun and sometimes the path leads him to the surface when he sees the sun he goes blind."

"Is that some mysticism I wasn´t aware of?"

DON´T TELL ME YOU DON´T KNOW THIS...

"I promise I´ll devour it just because you mentioned it, sweet thing." I kissed Edith in a very luscious way. "Here," I said as I lifted my partner in crime. "Now one for him."

“Fine, by the way, who were you kissing?”

I gasped, “Promise you won’t get mad?”

“Why would I?” she said as she sat down.

“I fantasized with another man in that dream, nothing big happened.”

“Adrian...” she sighed, “I already know about that.”

“You do? I mean...of course you do.”

“I’m aware of your tendencies and we already discussed that. I don’t see any harm as long as it makes you happy. The only thing I’ve ever wished for you is to find happiness no matter who’s in your way.”

Awww, geez.

The mole in the hole...Edith read tons of bizarre books; she devoured them as soon as they were in her possession, which was fine by me. But on this occasion she drew me to watch some very insightful movies like El Topo with the excuse that it would feed my brain. I wasn't really fond of that activity, but you can't help it if you live in such a cosmopolitan environment.

Ever since I was young I got hooked on Watership Down thinking animals had more to show that meets the eye, besides I couldn't sleep thinking the Black Rabbit of Inle would come out and get me. And I was Fiver, the little psychic rabbit. It's funny how some things stick you for so long but you can't quite find a name until the time is right.

To be gifted doesn't mean you're greater than anybody else; however you become wiser and your senses sharpen. My buddy here Scraps he can smell the rain for miles away, and I could detect danger.

You see now that I pasted these images in my head I understood well that the whole monster dream was referring to the fact that I attracted many sorts of characters; the greedy and the needy. And Janie was a voice that I needed to hear when I thought I was becoming too selfish. Thus, a transformation would begin. I took the time analyze a ´horrorscope´ this morning and it brought me up the Card of The Day which stood for The Magician. It made sense because I already managed to symbolically pull a rabbit out of the hat. The question was what´s next?

Whenever I stopped by at Balthazar I felt like a fish in water since everyone around wore so much black, but that's a rather uncomfortable for others. And here we were plotting how to conquer the universe once again after drowning in some fine Château Bernadotte, I couldn´t escape the trace of Merlot. I was in the company of Feivel, who was charming as usual, always getting to the point.

"I have a feeling this is not our usual conversation, my dear Red Queen," I said as I gently swung my glass.

"You´re intuition is on fire today, sweet thing. I got a proposition for you, and this one´s really good."

"Damn, you sound like a goddamn gangster, woman," I talked back laughing.

"Listen, I already got a place up in Chelsea with your name on it, because that´s where you´re heading."

It seems that my work suddenly became so luscious I was solicited "upstairs". Soho lost its artistic strength a long time ago I felt like I was some kind of endangered species.

"So what was all that shit about last night?" I kept asking somewhat puzzled.

"Exactly. That was to be like a beautiful farewell. I hate to say that it was kinda planned, but we gotta find a way to revamp your image." He stretched his arms wide open, "think ´bout this; bad boy from Soho turned genius. I can see diversity, I´m talking major invasion in areas we never dealt before."

What he meant to say was that we were about to produce massive art. Nowadays it´s very difficult that just one person handles a multidisciplinary exhibition like sculptures, extra large canvases. I needed to assemble a larger and more reliable than the one I had already. And Feivel of course already reeled in the big fish to invest.

One time after having being exposed to some of Jeff Koons exhibitions it occurred to me that the mirror effect could be applied to almost anything. About two years ago I did a solo exhibition called Black Cherry, in honor of one of my dearest paintings, which later became controversial for its subliminal sexual nature, it´s art; you can get away with it. There were several pieces I did in oil and pastel named Us which featured a full body mirror as a theme and background. It was dripping blood and had several couples in it. Some were kind of known, some were anonymous.

As I contemplated my agent and I in the mirror in the bar surrounded by a faux parisian scene I couldn´t help remembering those paintings; I was caught between them and a scene from The Shining where Jack talks to Lloyd:

Drink up, Mr. Torrance.

I'm the kind of man who likes to know who's buyin' their drinks, Lloyd.

It's not a matter that concerns you, Mr. Torrance. At least not at this point.

Anything you say, Lloyd. Anything you say.

I was just waiting for the walls to bleed; let the bleeding begin!

-----------

I had a dream last night which I´m not sure how to explain however I´ll tell it like it is because if not then I´d be tearing it apart.

So here goes; I was offered to do a Tarot reading for a girl who used to be the maid at my house. She was sort of concerned because of her current husband or boyfriend, so I went and got my cards but it seemed that I had to take them out of the closet. In the end I had such a huge pile that wasn´t really necessary to use. I knew she was already in trouble so because I´m a very busy person I managed to memorize the reading so that I wouldn´t waste time.

This last part doesn´t make sense because usually you have nothing planned yet the reader knows exactly what to say. Anyway, a Tarot card fell and I forgot to put it in the pile; it was the Knight of Pentacles I believe. It´s supposed to signify protection, hard work, responsible, safety.

I sat down with the maid and attempted to do what she asked me to, yet I was persuaded by a woman, not quite sure if it was my mother or my girlfriend to go elsewhere like on a date so the maid was left behind and forgotten.

And now that I´m trying to balance my life unknown persons keep haunting me in my dreams. I already did some things with Janie; now there´s another needy girl. What now?

--------------

And I was relentless to leave this once flamboyant neighborhood; I hated to see it go down and being eclipsed by the monstrous shadow of Chelsea. Some of my comrades thought of it as if I was selling out. I thought, "Not so, this place has already been used by too many people and now we needed a new warren. I have several visions, but this one was rather unexpected for me. That’s why I said it was tough for me to let go. I stood very bravely and saw what would be considered as just ruins. It was a broken heart or an open wound.

"My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today."

I was quoting Watership Down again.

I joined SoHo in the first years of the last decade. I had a misconception of the place, yet I stayed merely by caprice. I could sense the decadence of the bohemian charm that every single artist expects to be surrounded by, at least once in their lives. And though it seemed like a sort of risqué activity to live entirely on art, I always had a plan B. Eventually I did find this noble warren; a place where I felt blessed, and wanted. There’s always been a cosmic energy that I can’t quite explain; you can’t see it, smell or touch it, but you can feel it. Thus I became invaded by it and I created uncontrollably. I started doing works for other people because you can’t expect to have an exhibition as soon as you walk of school; so don’t bet on it. That’s why the needy, the unknown street artists became my most powerful allies, until I began to hang out with other crowds. Then it was all about being a larger family.

And in a way, after Janie and M, and the rest of these bizarre creations of suburbia crossed my path I sit and listen patiently to their concerns. Now my feelings have become more obscure, for last night’s dream showed that I have assumed the role of a leader; a responsible one. My momentary lapse of madness several weeks ago had no excuse. Wherever I would go I would conquer.

The needy will still hop with me and follow me dearly, that I am aware of.

The night went by quite smoothly; just me and Edith and a couple of close friends. There was Chloe and Sam, her husband who always had some interesting topic to muster to get me off the routine.

"You know, we haven’t seen each other since that damn Halloween night, remember?"

“Oh yeah, my bad,” I said as I clutched another glass of that red, red wine. “Truly ravishing, wasn’t it?”

Chloe seemed rather stunning that night. She helped me out lots of times to get out of anonymity. I never forget my oldest friends. She was always very radiant and impeccable, but last month on October she wasn’t her usual self. So it occurred to her wear a tight corset and came in as French maid. This time of the year is the perfect excuse to do the things you can’t do in real life.

I frankly didn’t know what to say; to his partner Sam it seemed rather astonishing. I had fashioned an outfit that consisted of a rabbit’s head and I had my torso naked most of the time. Daniel insisted since that was becoming more than a furry fetish more like a trademark.  That still wasn’t enough to grab attention. However Chloe found it charming and after a couple of nice drinks she found some comfort and spent a great deal of the night with me. I felt kind of compassionate because she had a lot of things bottled up and it seemed they landed on the wrong place and the wrong time. Of course, being a gentleman, I pretended I had no recollection of these events.

"Oh, absolutely, just like old times. Oh, dear Adrian...don’t let anyone come between us...professionally speaking of course.”

Suddenly, Daniel appeared with excellent timing. “There you are!” he cried. He had the same time of outfit I had except that his rabbit head was black. “I’ve been dying to introduce you to some close friends of mine...”

I can’t continue with that part, at least not tonight.

So Monday came along and it was a whirlwind of endless destruction, as I was getting my paintings labeled and packaged for the solo exhibition. Ah yes, Playground, we called it in the end; what a magnificent way to start a new page. It´s amazing we could this thing arranged so soon. This meant, however an important evolution. Within a few weeks I would ´hop´ into a new studio. It was getting too crowded here anyway, not to mention more expensive.

Edith here wasn't so hot about the idea at the beginning, so I carefully proposed her to move. I could say we kind of grew up in the same neighborhood. She met me at a show, but then everything happened so fast. How could you miss such a beautiful when you have it in front of you? Her bangs hid those sweet blue eyes that charm Skinny, but not that skinny; she was all natural. She´s not that sensual enough; I would say cute and strangely funny. Yet she wasn´t by herself exactly; she had come with some friends on a weekday. It was about three years ago.

Of course when one is a newcomer to the art world they have this sort of feeling like a painting or any manifestation is like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Some use their few skills and try to interpret it while others study their whole lives. But no matter how much time you´ve spent beating your brains out, even if you think you know the artist´s work he comes back and surprises you once again. Expect the unexpected, just like Ava told me. And Edith was analyzing each and every one of the pieces as they were inkblot tests. She gestured too much, that´s why I couldn´t help noticing her that night.

So what I did is that I patiently observed her making absolutely no noise. The girl exclaimed, as she was watching one called Home, which was oil and pastel abstract composition that resembled a hole.

"This is truly amazing, I´ve never seen anything like this," said Edith to herself. And I whispered, "I´m glad you liked it, because I made it..." She turned around and was even more amazed; she must have thought I wasn´t able to come up with something like that.

"But you see the merit of this composition is the sensation of depth that it gives you, it doesn´t stay all flat," I continued trying to make a fulfilling conversation. "I´m Black; Adrian Black by the way. The guy who made this is insane by the way, so you should be careful if you ever stumble upon him."

"And just how insane is he, huh?" asked Edith crossing her arms.

"Mad as hatter, but then again aren´t we all mad here?" I said.

"I´m Edith Paige, insane boy..."

She was a freshman at NYU. She wasn´t snobbish or anything like that, she was like an open book; no mysteries. Still, one she finally confessed one day she had chosen psychology because a part of her was broken. And her frailty besieged me. Broken people always follow me for some shitty reason I can´t explain.

------------------

It still amuses me the fact that in dreams you actually do what you don't do in real life. In this one I had a tattoo on the back of my left shoulder; I confess I don´t have one yet.

It was supposed to be a spiral heart clearly defined with the usual black outline and colored in bright red. As I looked it seemed to be fading away until it had some a very thin red line. But it didn't stop there; the line continued across my chest and stopped right in my belly button and it looked like another heart but it was bloody and sore. For some reason the tattoo decided to switch to another area, which in a way looked more sensual. I laid flat on my bed and I couldn't move.This was more than just a scar.

I had fallen asleep on the couch in my living room; I must have been in a sort of fetal position trying to seek some warmth. I´ve slept very little lately and that´s fine but having weird visions is extremely uncomfortable; it´s like I was zapping channels and watching somebody else´s mind. The problem is that one doesn´t know how to control them. Maybe visions are children speaking to you in their own language and you have to be extra patient with them. Sometimes I look at Scraps and he talks with his big ears but that´s just it; should I speak rabbit? I don´t think so.

That sweet, flagrant feeling of laziness invaded me and I couldn´t resist anymore; the afternoon felt longer than the morning. There was an unusual vibration coming from underneath me, what the Hell was it? Oh, cellphone…

Hello, this is Amy speaking, is this Mr. Black I´m talking with?

“The one and only,” I answered as I elegantly stretched like some kind of big cat.

Well, it´s about the session we have tomorrow if you might recall? Is it alright if we come by early; it´s seems there´s been a change of plans…

"Oh, then I´d have to be in two different places tomorrow,” I said. “Four o´clock; no more, no less.”

That´s sounds great; I´m booking this right now and we´ll make sure that the equipment you asked for is used. Thank you very much; it was a pleasure talking to you Mr. Black.

The media; I understood them very well. Now all I had to do was find the perfect spot in this big room of mine for a photo shoot.

------------------

Ah, Tuesday. Normally I lose the notion of time but these last few days have been literally tattooed to my forehead. Opening night for the exhibition was until Friday but the word was spread about a month ago. It happens very often that there is unfinished material and people are already lined up to see it and buy it. They say Mary Boone did this sort of practice and it worked out quite well until it went a little bit too far; apparently a matter of quality versus quantity. But like I said; this is organized chaos, at least for solicited fellows like me. After having a long meeting with the gallery staff I was ready for yet another appointment.

Below a sample of my interview with CB Magazine; my lost loyal followers.

PLAYGROUND opens December 3rd at M. in Chelsea.

This is not your typical afternoon at Adrian Black´s studio loft located in the heart of New York´s most legendary and chic districts; SoHo, which has seen better times. The once flourishing art scene migrated to Chelsea since the early 1990s. Our host seems to be one of the last of a dying breed; but he´s still willing to take risks. Following one of our most beloved and consistent movements, Expressionism and Neo-Expressionism, Black continues to explore raw emotions and childhood fears encrypted in dreams and visions. He sometimes claims that the paintings are already in his head, almost like pure automatism.

We´ve been invited for tea; red tea that is, which seems quite comforting. The décor is minimal, yet it resembles an early 1930s atmosphere; very Bauhaus-like.

Adrian Black lounges peacefully in a metallic chair. He resembles the concept of a rockstar gone visual artist; his look is simple yet his trademark is the color black, loves to wear silver rings and stares at you like a curious child. His only pet and personal model is a large white rabbit with dark eye patches similar to an eyeliner.

AB:The previous owner had this décor so it would have been very rude to alter it. I have a tendency to establish a sort of connection with the places I live in; if it asks for an evolution then so be it, but if it doesn´t I respect it. If it needs a facelift, then provide it. In the end the place will slowly reveal its true form to you so that you can continue your merry work.”

CB:Some newcomers as well as some connoisseurs could still grow puzzled at the nature of your latest creations. So could you tell before anyone does the tendency to paint rabbits?

AB:It´s a forgotten chapter of my life, that´s all I can say. I wouldn´t want to extend myself on this one to preserve the element of awe but I can tell you that there has been at least one time where you have felt helpless and instinctively ran away. I empower the rabbit; he´s swift and cunning and will keep digging holes. Those who follow it will surely find a realm far more interesting and becoming than the real world.

CB:I see, and this concept was carefully planned or did this come by accident, like the discovery of a new invention?

AB:I never planned to be a seer, but then again I can´t ignore this gift of mine. If I turn my back on it then it will come and knock on my door at the most inappropriate hours. So my role has been carefully encrypted in the canvas. If you are familiar with Tarot Cards you´ll understand why some pieces have an esoteric nature. That´s what I did with Ritual; the Tree of Life helps us to reach spirituality like most religions.

CB:Like the concept of the rabbit in the moon?

AB:The Moon is also a Tarot Card, yet it´s hard to interpret. We all adore it, but boy those it drive us mad, doesn´t it?

CB:Like women?

AB (pauses and laughs) Exactly…

CB:So this new production is charged with a heavy dosage of emotion and symbolism at the same time?

AB:That´s the way I´ve always done things around here; the objective is the more you appreciate it the more ideas you´ll find as the years go by. Otherwise the painting doesn´t feel alive at all.

CB: Which is the beauty of art; it´s like dreams. And as Sigmund Freud once said: "The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind."

I´ve done lots of different ‘jobs’ (probably blow jobs) before I ever became heavily interested in painting. One thing I haven´t tried is singing yet and in this dream I sort of did.

I was at a big family reunion, more like a wedding. I looked more like those musicians you usually see around these streets with their acoustic guitar, very low profile. My uncle and a cousin carefully penned down some songs on a napkin; I swear I could almost see which songs they wanted me to play but as soon as I peeked at it they jealously covered it.

My grandma kept asking me for a song as well; it seems I was solicited that night. However I was very busy, so I could only play any other melody. A girl handed the napkins over and I swear I´ve never seen her in my life; she must have been young, probably six or seven years old. The truth is I did it all for free because the next guy that came along was charging for every goddamn song. So was I doing it for the love of art? Absolutely.

I was still having some mixed feelings about the outcome of the new exhibition, but helping out Edith with her investigations sure distracted me a bit.

She kept a word that progressively went to my unconscious: Einfühlung, a German word which translated means something like aesthetic sympathy or empathy. It was a concept difficult to grasp at the beginning, yet it became much easier if you just saw it happen.

A person gets an immediate reaction to any aesthetic experience, whether it´s beautiful or not. If the object conveys an emotion so powerful then the individual will mirror those feelings. The quickest example would be watching the many representations of Christ. People connect with his pain, but not with the artist who made it. In this new era with fabulous inventions like Expressionism the spectator participates a little bit more in this emotional experience. We want them to connect with us in order to grow spiritually, but as you can see it´s a very ancient practice that wasn´t taken into consideration until a few decades ago.

“Edith, is this gonna take longer?” I asked moaning because I was sort of exhausted and she was still reading in bed.

NOT MUCH LONGER NOW. THANKS FOR HELPING ME OUT. I DON´T KNOW WHERE YOU FIND THE TIME FOR ALL THIS.

“I honestly have no idea…”

------------------

The more cryptic dreams become the longer it takes to figure them out and this one was stuck in my head all morning and all afternoon. I was walking down the street in a place very similar to the time when I saw that little monster. This time there was a different creature; a rather handsome one I must say. It seemed like a pilgrim falcon but he was kind enough to show me he had a higher authority because he had this sort of black helmet or crown. I handed out a piece of white cotton thread and I begged him to cut it since I couldn't do it on my own. After he had finished the task I thanked him and walked away.

“Oh, but did you know that the thread is an ancient Greek myth?” asked Edith while she was ceremoniously brushed her hair.

"No, I wasn't aware of that," I said as I approached and sat down next to her.

“It should make sense, though. In Ancient Greece there were three Goddesses of Destiny or the Moirae. The first, Clotho, she spun the thread, Lacheses measured it and the last one, Atropos cut the thread of life and she was responsible for the way a person should die.”

“I like that, but I don't like death."

BUT YOU KNOW IT'S CURIOUS THAT YOU MENTIONED IT WAS A WHITE THREAD AND NOT A RED ONE.

"Is that a bad sign?"

OH, YOU MEAN LIKE AN EVIL OMEN? IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD.

“See, now that I'm thinking about it I remembered the inaugural ribbons as in the upcoming show, you have to cut them too, at least symbolically. So do you think they have any connection with this dream?"

BUT THEY'RE STILL RED.

“Yeah, well, dreams are not always accurate.”

“No, but they also represent moods. You should know that.” She gently clapped my face like indirectly saying, "don't worry kid, everything's gonna be alright." I'm not usually a pessimistic kind of guy, but these vision things are starting to scare me. Ava clearly said that I had to listen to them as they came. So that means that if I took them literally I’d had to go visit some exotic creature for help cutting a thread, and that makes no sense at all. But since psychics are highly familiar with symbols they should know better than anyone what to do. I was tempted to go again, but I still had my hands full.

There, I did it. As soon as I found some spare time I stopped by Ava, the psychic lady´s shop without being announced. I begged to talk to her and kept knocking like an idiot until I saw a man, probably an apprentice or a family member answering the door. His name was Amir; he must have been around twenty years old, I don´t know. He looked he was Arab and his hands were covered in rings.

"Ms. Ava is not here right now but you´re welcome to visit her back at any other time," he said directly without even asking him anything.

"That’s fine but listen, I really need your advice. Can you please help me interpret a vision I just had?"

Amir nodded and acted like he wanted to walk away uninterested. I asked again insisting.

"It´s a true vision, I know! I´m Adrian Black and I..." He interrupted me and dramatically changed the look on his face.

"I see. Why didn´t you say so in the first place? Come inside..."

We went into a room much more becoming, which was basically the one where I went into the last time I saw Ava. We kneeled in these huge metallic red cushions. He placed his hands upon mine and asked with a very serene tone, "the lady has told me so much about you, that´s why she said that you would come back. Visions happen to almost anyone but they don´t listen to them. You chose to listen now ask me; what did you see?"

I didn´t want to sound like a fool so I told him like it was, "I was in the middle of the street and I saw a falcon who agreed to cut a piece of white thread."

Amir swiftly pulled out his deck of cards but they showed Egyptian illustrations. He highlighted the Magician. I looked puzzled.

"I´m sorry but I´m kinda lost here, but what does the Magician have to with this? I remember having seen it in another deck that Ava showed me."

"In the Tarot they´re all the same. In this one it has a different shape, Adrian. The Egyptian version is one the oldest and most accurate that we know. The falcon you saw was Horus, one of the major gods. You approached a higher authority and asked it to end something," he said.

"End what? I was under the impression it could have been my life," I answered a little agitated.

"We hardly see our own death in dreams. It ain´t your time yet, however. On the other hand, everything that the white thread represents will be gone. Horus was also the God of War, so think about it."

"Is that it?!"

"I see what you see, but you have to carry on alone. You started something and now you will have to end it. Probably you might not accept it at the beginning, but it is also part of a transformation, a big one."

And I suddenly remember, "I´ll be leaving this neighborhood soon and move on, is that such a big deal?"

Of course it is. It means having to meet new people, get used to my new home. If all of that was somehow blessed and peaceful then maybe this next ´life´ would be more conflictive? Then again maybe I was the one perceiving it like that.

Like I said before, having to let go of something was tough. Nevertheless this wouldn´t represent in any single way that I would be changing radically and selling out or acting like an asshole. I´d hate to become someone like that and Edith would hate that as well. To Hell with visions; from now on I would enjoy the future instead of fearing it. That night I hugged my woman tightly trying to enjoy every last moment of it before we moved on to something more serious. I failed to tell her about my urgent visit to the psychics.

ARE YOU ALRIGHT, IT FEELS LIKE YOU´RE SCARED.

"I feel alone on this one, I don´t know what to think of my dreams anymore, I´m losing my mind..." I answered timidly.

HONEY, LISTEN; IF YOU BECOME FIXATED WITH THIS TOO MUCH YOU´RE REALLY GOING TO WEAR YOURSELF; JUST RELAX A LITTLE.

"Like that time we fought over that other dream, remember?"

YES; EVERYTHING IS GOING GREAT SO FAR. I PREDICT THIS SHOW WILL BE INCREDIBLY AND I´LL BE BY YOUR SIDE.

"Just hold me, hold me..." I kept repeating that as my voice slowly faded out.

------------------

Now that I was feeling stronger I boldly entered the studio at 3 AM only to be welcomed by this very entertaining and colorful sight of the little dead girl. She wore a nightgown with faded colors and knit hat with tiny ears.

She was sitting right next to Scraps in a sort of improvised tea table but the tablecloth was crimson red, worn out but red.

There was a melody in the background resembling a broken pianola  because it kept playing  so many times to drive you mad.

Likewise the girl continued her tale while I watched patiently and sat on the maplewood floor being very discreet.

“ There were things that the Red Queen hid carefully to avoid spreading chaos in an already chaotic place such as Wonderland.

Among them was the Black Rabbit, the White Rabbit's brother, of course. They were very close and used to have amazing adventures when they were little but had to be separated as they grew up. The White Rabbit was the eldest and had royal duties to perform being a messenger while the shady Black Rabbit had a much darker fate. He became a servant of Death and that is why when Her Majesty ordered any living thing that wasn't following her wicked rules to be sent to this fellow to have his or her head cut off.

As time went by, the Black Rabbit began to despise his work, he was beginning to grow weary and jealous of his brother who was always so zesty and could go anywhere he pleased without boundaries. One fine day he made a deal with the forces of the underworld and became something else, a beautiful monster that scared people away but who was willing to maintain the White Rabbit by his side no matter what and that they should never be apart.

"I would make your life a living hell," he said softly, "But I will never hurt you."

Then she took a sip of a teacup which was empty since she was in her usual childish pretend games. She lowered her head and her tone of voice changed dramatically.

“The Black Rabbit is angry, you can never leave...can never leave.”

I realized she was addressing me.

“Play with me, Adrian, play with me.”

“Why?”

“Just play along and no one will get hurt.”

I approached the table and joined the game which was apparently harmless.

“Ah, here he is! The White Rabbit joined and he looks as handsome as ever.” She wasn’t talking to me but someone else, another party guest.

“Isn’t it wonderful that the two of you are reunited, then? I know it’s a bit late but when you’re dead time is of so little use. I can see that our guest knows that quite well since he has removed all clocks from this room. He looks silent and sad, so sad...”

“I am not sad, I am curious to know what happens in here and when will this stop?” I said a tad desperate.

“You despise our company, that is well understood. I apologize for that, the coldness seems to precede us all the time and that’s what made you ill. Luckily, I have a cure...”

“Thank you,” I began, “but I’m feeling much better now.”

The child spoke like a delicate woman, with such manners; I had a bad feeling she was just acting, the real one would come out soon or later, “Oh, but who can guarantee you will not get sick again? I offer you this, so drink...”

The cup was empty so I had nothing to fear, “As you wish...”

I felt something hot down my throat and quickly spit it out in disgust; it was blood. I coughed several times to make sure it was completely out of my system.

“How rude, very rude indeed,” said the ghost of the girl. “It was supposed to be plain black tea.”

As soon as I was able to speak clearly I replied, “Then you did something to it.”

“Whatever comes out of that cup is exactly what you wish to have inside yourself,” said the other mystery guest.

“Is that a bad sign then?” I said coughing again.

“Blood is blood, it is tied to life thus if you reject it you’re disgusted with it. Suppose it is your own blood to drink so think it over, will you?”

“I need to leave, this has to be a dream...”

“But Adrian, you can never leave...”

These last weeks have served me well to meet all kinds of interesting and likable vermin. A few I had already seen, others not quite but those who most intrigued me were those who roamed in my head between dreams; each one more mysterious and more twisted than the last.

Based on the advice of my new friend Amir they may have been exactly the same people with whom I have lately been interacting for my exhibition. What happens is that they may have hidden qualities that will be of great interest to me, as if I could see beyond the obvious and seeing that in this New York life it´s truly hard.

Chelsea seemed wider and louder than SoHo; but it also looks as if most of the Hollywood elite decided to concentrate between these two districts. One of the delightful things I found out about Chelsea is that it had acquired the bad reputation of being a favorite spot for gay people. I´m an open person, but not that open, besides I already kissed my own self in a dream and that´s as far as I´m getting.

24 and 25th St had already a swarm of small galleries, especially for newcomers. They found a nice place for me right between these streets, yet I had a certain aversion for the new buildings. Sure it´s spacious, it fits your artistic needs among other things, but it´s not full of history. Call it a perk but I must still create in very specific conditions; guess I haven´t changed much since I begged my mother to get me black notebooks. That reminded me that I had to inform her and Dad about my new ´lair´.

Old Adam was the only one bold enough to travel, so I arranged for him to come here by the first days of December. Then we would meet back in Elyria for the holidays.

I spoke to him one afternoon while I was in the comfort of my living room. Scraps was hopping all over the place; luckily he was already well trained not to wander too far. And how did I do that? Don´t ask me; it´s one of my many talents. Now I can see it: the Rabbit Charmer.

“So, you finally decided to leave that neighborhood after seven years?” asked my dad with a rather coarse tone.

“It´s not like I decided, I had to. It´s much more rentable in Chelsea. Sure, it´s not on the other side of the world but it will take some getting used to. Beautiful view, by the way. The hardest part isn´t producing the art; it´s hanging it. How´s life treating you, you old dog?”

-----------------

RISE AND SHINE SLEEPYHEAD BECAUSE THIS IS THE DAY YOUR DREAMS COME TO LIFE.

Did I hear that while I was asleep; I can´t remember. No wait; it was Edith shaking me all over the place.

"Friday came too soon, didn´t it?” I said as I stared at the mirror. "I have to ride all the way to M. for some last minute touch ups."

THAT´S FINE, WHEN WILL YOU BE FREE?

"That´s...a very good question...," I slurred. Probably by four o´clock. I called my old man yesterday; he should be able to get here soon. What time is it?

SEVEN.

"Right. He said somewhere around 10. Mark said he drop by here as well. I feel so strange making everyone be here so early..."

WELL, IT´S A SPECIAL OCCASION. I´LL TRY NOT TO ENTERTAIN MYSELF TOO MUCH TO SEE WHAT I CAN DO.

"Being there for me is more than enough," I said as I held Edith by her waist. She made as though she wanted to help out more than she was supposed to; she sighed as well. I whispered in her ear, "You want to know a secret? I couldn´t have done all this without you..."

She was stunned for a while. "Well, thank you very much; what do you call that kind of help, a muse?"

"Well, you see, for you that´s not enough, I was going to say goddess..."

DON´T MAKE FUN OF ME, BESIDES DID YOU EVER FIGURE OUT THAT DREAM ABOUT THE THREAD?

"Nah, I´ll have to figure it out later..."

What was to be one of the longest days I´ve ever had started off in Chelsea over by 24th St. I could see many relatively young galleries; one that caught my attention in particular was the Gagosian. Many big names have paraded there, including Jeff Koons and unmistakable Damien Hirst. Remember how I mentioned Picasso was the gauge for modern art? Well, these guys, like Murakami are stretching art to become a major industry and they are recalibrating that gauge. But then again, back to reality.

I really wanted to surround this show in a lot of mystery so special attention was given to the lighting. I picked up the idea from a nightclub where I used to go. We started with some tracklights hanging from the ceiling then something dim, very dim and there was also light coming from within the paintings.I think it's known as contour lighting thanks to some very clever, not to mention quick ideas.

The gallery owner, Mr. Simon Blackwell came from the generation of Mary Boone and he had somewhere around three years already with the place, but had managed to reel in some very important young artists. So his scene was more juvenile. The building was cleverly concealed with the architecture of Chelsea, yet it was incredibly spacious. High ceilings attract me.

The order in which the works would be set would be as in the form of a journal; each painting was a representation of a vision, so it was indeed chronological.

An example of the ones I did between October and November.

Rabbit Monster

The Pool Of Fears

Easy On The Eyeliner

Ritual

The Rabbit Of The Infinite Strength

1:11 AM

Handle With Care

I Attract Vermin

The Tarot Man

1:11 PM

11

Nightmares Have Many Names

The Seer

The White Rabbit of Inle

The Bleeder

Pneumatic For The People

Drive Me

The Thousand

3:15 AM

Art As A Weapon

I also included a set of sketches of some of the monumental paintings, in the case of Rabbit Monster. Because I know results may vary when it´s finished.

There were some other exhibitions taking place since October, a collective one that included some very wicked low brow art. I was tempted to adopt that style years ago, but I liked old school tendencies; nothing more splendorous than Expressionism.

A killer dusk announced what was to be the beginning of a beautiful afternoon. I had very few words to describe the scene, you know; the kind of people who had the huge need to come all the way down here to Manhattan. I attract all sorts of things, even vermin.

This time my expectations were exceeded by a landslide, as it seemed that many local and international fans-It was literally a zoo, or some kind of elegant carnival composed of down to earth folk acting like freaks for one night and tomorrow go back to their land of ignominy, which was school of course. Others swarmed from Brooklyn and SoHo, and some much unexpected from London. Or then again, I was wrong on that one. Ellis Baum came from the UK branch, started by Simon Blackwell. That also meant, in a few words that if everything went well tonight my work would go overseas.

The organic look of the M. Gallery mesmerized me. But what was even more eye-catching was the opening that took place in the lobby. You see, Mark and I prepared some background music; something soft and eerie followed by a performance. As soon as a carefully placed curtain that hung from the ceiling dropped it introduced us to a lady scantily clad in bondage and a slave ´rabbit´. It was a reinterpretation of Alice in Wonderland, naughtier of course. They would be the hosts of my show as they would walk us through every single corner until we made it successfully through the hole of paintings.

I arrived almost on time; I hate to be late, it´s an old obsession of mine. Dad and Edith were there too, looking beautiful as ever and of course let´s not forget our mistress of disaster Mrs. Chloe Smith.I saw some old dogs from the art press just waiting to sink their teeth in this juicy steak of a show.

And in case you were wondering, yes, I did cut a ribbon and the vision of the falcon struck me for a matter of seconds but it felt more like vanquishing an old demon.

"Darling, this is fantastic! I really feel very drawn into this work!" That was the voice of Ms. Bradshaw from NY Art Magazine; she was hoping that this time I would fail. "Absolutely adorable, great show!" Even her embrace felt sort of rehearsed, but that was nothing out of the ordinary in these sort of events.

James was there too with some friends, but we barely had time to talk. Most of the evening was occupied by uneasy cameras.

"Beautiful people, I´d like to welcome you to the Playground. It´s an entirely new collection composed by twenty pieces done in oil, acrylic and pastel, and perhaps you might find there some unexpected blood...just kidding. These works represent some of my weakest moments but they´re all tied to a symbol, which is of course the rabbit."

TELL US MORE ABOUT THIS SYMBOL, IF YOU DON´T MIND, MR. BLACK...

"It´s has been there with me all this time. It represents the occult knowledge that dwells in dreams, especially in mine. It´s a new fascination of mine. Perhaps later on I´ll start reading cards just for fun."

RITUAL IS AN AMAZING PIECE, IS IT ALSO FULL OF THAT OCCULT NATURE YOU SAID?

"Absolutely. They explained me that the hopscotch is an actual image of the Tree Of Life from the Kabbalah. You can see the two critters playing with it as if they were Russian Roulette; where would they stop, no one knows."

WHAT´S THE MEANING OF THE 11?

I paused for a moment because that wasn´t an easy question. "You know, coincidence is one of those very few things in life that remind you that there is someone or something out there trying to reach you. The 11 or the series of 1´s happen most of the time to me. And no, for all of you geeks out there it´s not binary code, it´s actually numerology.

--

The night rolled on with an endless parade of photographers, wannabes and whatnots and culminated with an incredibly sacrilegious reunion at the charming and dazzling Morimoto, and there we plotted to take over the world over some warm sake, why not?

There was Edith, Dad, Mark, Chloe, Mr. Blackwell and I.

"The cryptic imagery is rather powerful, it has potential and I strongly suggest that you move forward with it, my boy,” said Mr. Blackwell. He looked serene. He looked like one of those old mans that hang around in coffee shops. It was strange how someone like him wanted to help out the young people like me; then again life is damn strange.

"What did I tell you? This is the beginning of a new era," said Chloe, the red queen.

"Whoa, don´t you think you overdid that?" I said.

"Absolutely not. I can assure right here, right now, in this very spot that Adrian is my new golden boy..."

"Don’t love me too much..”

"Wouldn´t surprise me; I saw him first," said Dad. What can I say, he´s made me proud. I used to think the only way to get out of Elyria was in a casket."

"Not anymore, you old dog, not anymore,” I said.

"You´ll love London. But this I must tell you. You´ll have to be prepared to listen to things as they come..."

For a moment I felt some déjà vu that took me back to the Tarot session with Ava that afternoon. I paused for a moment.

"Are you alright Adrian? You became silent all of a sudden," said Edith sort of concerned.

"I´m sorry, you´re really great, all of you." I swung my half empty glass and said, "Whatever happens from here on can be only success."

--------------

I should have known better than to be drowning in a sea of liquor, but before I hit land my mind navigated into new dreams. This time I traveled into a one story house far from the city and I was sitting in the living room. I was also dressed in black, but I think that seems sort of irrelevant since I do that every day.

On the other hand, I had several people around me, trusted ones while I was writing my last will. And this is where I stop. Again one of those apparently threatening situations that are inevitably tied to the process of dying. And if I effectively survived this weekend I wasn't able to understand which other danger was coming.

I'll have to say I suck at predicting the future. What I did know for sure is that next Monday I had to make plans for my new 'hiding place', A.K.A my new toy. 'Can't complain; 20 ft. high ceilings, wide open spaces, nice view of the Hudson River. Yet, there was still something about it I couldn´t explain; Edith said the other day that home was with me, and it makes sense since I´ve lived in several places it´s hard to say if any one of these has been welcoming enough.

I went upstairs to my favorite spot in the rooftop while the morning breeze literally pierced my skin; it must have been around 45 degrees, I´m not sure. I watched my old man enjoying the view of my dear neighborhood.

"Hey man, how´s it going?" I said slightly dragging my feet.

"Oh, hey there. I just came here for a moment or two to clear my thoughts, you know," he answered as I noticed he rubbed his bony hands.

"What was that all about with mom? She barely wanted to talk to me the other day..."

"Yeah, you know, she´s working too hard not getting better; she kinda stubborn after what happened to you last month. She practically paralyzed when she heard the news."

"I understand."

"No, but the thing is that she had to learn sooner or later that you just gotta learn to jump one of these days. I realize you´re strong but don´t try to prove anything."

"I ´m sorry I was such an idiot. Sometimes you just, you know, lose grip, that´s all."

"Sure, sure, that´s fine, but she just worries a little bit too much...Anyway, I´m really proud of you, son. You managed to do in so little time what I couldn´t do my entire life..."

"And that is?"

"Getting out of that hellhole, dammit!"

For once I stopped feeling sort of selfish and I approached old Adam and wrapped by arms around him. “You know what they say; where there´s a will, there´s a way…”

“Do you remember what we used to call you back when you were just four?” he asked.

“Man, I can´t even fully remember what happened last week!”

“Oh, c´mon; you were our little monster who did nothing all day but just sit in the backyard scribbling and scribbling until you burned holes in the paper. It runs in the family, I guess. Your grandma used to paint shortly after dad passed away. She did make a portrait, not too accurate though. But she always said that´s what kept her going.”

“I knew that already,” I said sort of puzzled. “But there was one freaking portrait I couldn´t get off my mind for ages. It was this sort of religious image of Jesus helping out a poor woman…”

“Oh yeah. She hated it though. She did it just because it was supposed to be a gift for a friend of hers, but in the end she kept it because she was such a perfectionist!” Adam laughed for a while.

“And I can prove it´s still there, isn´t it?”

“Yeah, that´s it!” Dad laughed harder. “She could never get rid of it, not sure why…But then I guess I taught you well; you´re free spirited as I was, so don´t let anyone stop you from doing whatever you wanna do.”

“Would you like to go and have something with me and Edith? She´s so goddamn adorable…”

----------

There's no quicker satisfaction than the one that you get online. These were some of the reviews for Playground:

"It's the rabbit that came out of the hat full of magic tricks. Naïve yet cryptic imagery, the show gathers what would be considered the talismans for the young. The Rabbit of The Infinite Strength is one of them; a black rabbit with the infinity symbol on its back, loosely based on the lemniscate from The Strength tarot card. A man playing a boy playing with black magic? How inconsiderate, but at the same time so adequate to illuminate the darkest corners of our imagination." (Mary Bradshaw, NYC Art Magazine).

"There are a handful of artists that come to mind when I see work like this one; Marc Chagall, Dali and Miró who used the element of the rabbit in a more abstract context. Nevertheless, the need to prevail such mythology is more individual than collective." (J.B. Smith, Chelsea Daily Strokes).

"Adrian Black has been questioned for some years about his refusal to paint people most of the time, and with these recent works he reinforces our theory that prefers to surround his art in a more oneiric environment. With this it transforms into a genuine piece of work for any therapist of your choice.” (Morris, Modern Art NY).

SO DID THEY LIKE IT?

“Well, Edith, liking would be a very difficult thing to say in this case.”

HOW COME?

“You see, the more you know the harder it becomes to like something, especially if you´re a critic. But in a few words, it has they approved it. At least they didn´t hang me like in 2008. They already know my style. Sometimes you have to provoke because it´s needed.”

OH, GOOD THINKING.

Mark came over and he looked as partied out as I was but extremely excited to help me uploading material. He was one of my many partners in crime.

“So, whaddaya want me to do this time, bro?” he asked slightly yawning; it was like 10:10 AM

“Whaddaya mean you don´t know? I got tons of material to edit! By the way, what was that name of that girl, the one in the outfit?” I asked as I took that old familiar mild drug called caffeine.

“Lisa. Lisa Stewart,” he said.

“Oh, you have got to fucking kidding me; I used to date a girl called Lisa, but that was back in high school…damn.”

“Well, there you go. Coincidences…”

I hate coincidences, but what the Hell...

-------------

So I sat down with Edith this Saturday afternoon as she continued to analyze my complex dreams very carefully. As soon as she graduates she´ll become a pro, but that didn´t mean that her advice was okay, after all, you can´t self-medicate and get away with it.

And just to prove that I wasn´t insane Mark and Dad where there too as witnesses. We discussed all these strange episodes after a swell Thai lunch.

"Have you ever had these crazy visions and later on they become real?" I asked Mark.

"No man, but that all sounds like some serious black magic over there..."

"Of course not!" exclaimed Edith. "The truth is he has become aware of another side of him that´s more spiritual. It´s nothing to be ashamed of."

"Like, can you give us an example, son?" said Adam.

"One day, I was here dozing off and for, I dunno, let´s say a few minutes something flashed in my head and I saw a woman who took her kids in to this house along with others that weren´t hers."

"Like orphan children?" asked Edith gracefully.

"Yeah, that´s it!" I said as I sipped some red wine. "The weird part is that she was like seeking some refuge and she found this place."

"Well, it has to make some sense son; these parts are full of history cuz they used to be factories of some sort."

"And that´s why I find living in old buildings way more comfortable. What do you say, honey, do you think those people actually existed?"

"You know we should do a séance before we leave this loft," said Edith with a slightly sarcastic tone.

"Isn´t that were you contact the dead?" said Mark.

"Oh yes, that´s it!" she laughed out loud.

"Stop making fun of me or I´ll give a horribly fucking hard time! You don´t play with these things," I said.

"Then how come you didn´t use this stuff on Halloween? That would have made plenty of more sense than now," said Mark tapping the table.

"I just can´t figure that one out, my friend. Maybe it was already there but it was waiting to show up at the right place at the right time..."

"That´s OK bro, I respect you. The thing is people don´t talk about their dreams because they sound stupid or it embarrasses them. I had lots of dreams where I´m flying without wings. But then again I was too high that day...” said Mark with a sense of guilt.

"Well, may these visions of yours bring you good luck, my boy!" hailed Adam.

"Oh, they already have, they already have. But I still have a sinking feeling I can´t explain...I studying the Tarot cards now. Maybe I´ll become a psychic."

"That´s one thing you don´t see every day; a psychic artist." said Edith.

-----------------------

Things will change, I believe so, things will change. It´s a mad world after all, so smile..

Did you ever had that moment that as soon as you wake up there´s this one particular song in the back of your head? In my case it was Mad World by Tears For Fears. I played it in the living room until it made sense:

"And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad

SO THEN WHY DID YOU PLAY THAT SONG ADRIAN?

"Because if I didn´t do it then it would stay in my head the whole day, Edith. It´s the unconscious. Do you know why that happens when you dream?"

She sat on the couch, very thoughtful as she crossed her legs. "There are levels of the mind; from the subconscious you jump to the unconscious as you wake up. So in reality we dream in the process of becoming conscious, not after we fall asleep. Maybe you were associating a feeling with what the song says."

"Nope, that´s not it, but thanks anyway."

WELL, DON´T GET SO UPSET WITH ME.

Besides, it makes sense nowadays with all the violence out there and the one inside me.

This weekend I shut some doors, symbolically speaking. I said goodbye to Adam with a sense of relief, but on the other hand I wish he could be a part of my endless journey. He didn´t seem to be too excited about going back to Elyria; after all, the town has suffered too much in the last five years.

I also headed down to Chelsea to start conditioning my new studio. It turned out to be even more amazing than I thought. It used to be a warehouse and now we would turn into a goldmine. What we loved the most is leaving some very specific details; round, tall windows, different levels. We even planned to make like a small office strictly for business. Well, after several hours I was talked into the idea because I´m a very messy person; I think I said that before.

The place was older than I thought; they call it pre-war. And basically that was how I spent my Monday; all messed up on the outside, not so sure about the inside.

After I became so goddamn tired I laid flat on the hardwood floor with Scraps on top of me. I placed my hand upon his head while I made faces with him, "I´m such an idiot, man, you need a girlfriend real badly cuz you´re getting bigger..."

WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE SWEETIE, HAVING FUN?

“I´m just chilling out; can´t I do that every once in a while?” I answered while I kept twitching Scraps´ big ears.

I NEED YOUR HONEST OPINION ON THIS ONE...

“Whatever you say, kid…”

WE MUST DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE WALLS TO MAKE THEM MATCH THE PREVIOUS DÉCOR.

“Do you think they don´t go?”

NO, ALTHOUGH, THERE´S SOMETHING WE CAN KEEP. I SEE THE BRICK WALLS COULD BE A NICE ACCENT, OR SHOULD WE JUST REDO THEM?

“They stay. You know how I hate to disturb old houses…” I said as stood up.

OH, IT´S BECAUSE YOU WANT SOMETHING OLD, ISN´T IT?

“It´s the only way I can actually connect with people. Objects leave traces behind…”

Edith got kind of upset and slightly hit me with a magazine she was flipping for decoration ideas on lofts.

“You always do that, but I guess that´s kind of like your good luck charm, isn´t it?”

“Absolutely…”

“Whatever; I´ll see you in a few minutes. Let me know when you connected with some dead people here.”

Edith walked away giving me the cold shoulder. I hate when she gets stressed.

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take

When people run in circles its a very, very

Mad world, mad world."

Edith said once that when the body goes through a healing process you have the most awful dreams that you can ever imagine. That's what happened last month and now it happened to her. She kept complaining about this very intense headache and that would explain why she was sort of suspiciously moody yesterday.

So we sat together in our ever so comfortable living room back in my place on Mercer Street. She threw herself on my lap like the naïve little girl she was sometimes and she began telling me her wacky story.

"I think I´m better now. As soon as we came back home I stared at one of your pastels, what was it called?"

"Oh, you mean the one in the foyer? Yes, it´s called Home, it makes sense; what about it?"

"Well, then you see I failed to talk to you for the rest of the night because I had this humongous headache that I began to see blurry..."

"And why didn´t you tell me that?"

"Just because. Anyway, I wanted to tell you I had this very weird dream; well, they´re always weird, otherwise you wouldn´t pay attention to them, right? So then I saw myself younger, like about twelve years old and then I was wearing a party dress, like in pink pastel color and black. It was going to be like a wedding or something and my mom was supposed to pick me up, but the thing is that it was going to happen the next day, so I dressed in advance..."

"And why the Hell would you do that, to save time?" I said while I was caressing her face.

"I suppose. The thing is that before the wedding I helped around the house, so I was in the kitchen. Then I saw an aunt of mine who was mincing some meat and as soon as I saw it I noticed it was baby goat."

I just frowned.

"She used to cook it all the time now that I remember. So then she passed me a small bowl and she said, "Here, see what you can make of this head". It was a goat´s head! Accidentally I spilled some of the blood that came from the meat and I stained my dress. Now that I think of it this pink gown I had used it several times and it was wearing out..."

"You had nothing better, were you poor?"

"No, not really...oh c´mon you know my family, Adrian. So then I knew I had to clean up or something so I took the dress off carefully. My mom came in and she said to be ready in about an hour. So when I stared at the mirror I noticed that I didn´t like what I was wearing; I had a black sweater on, so I removed it and afterwards I removed a black laced top that seemed to match with my stockings."

"Oh, keep going cuz maybe you´re a closet Goth..."

"I am not! So that was pretty much it, what do you think of it?"

I tried to remain as serious as I could but also wanted to cheer her up, "You have a dark side! Cool. But then again I could also have a little bit of that. Maybe it was because of what you said yesterday, you know, about me and my good luck charms...does that bother you?"

Edith was silent for a while. "I don´t know; remember how I told you to not get so fixated on that?"

"Yes, but that´s what makes life extra spicy, right?"

"I suppose so. I may be a little bit crazy but I think your paintings are a bit suggestive; they trigger something in the unconscious."

Why didn´t I find this part amusing anymore?

---------------

These were the last days I would spend in my first place I ever had. Someone’s insisting I shouldn’t leave and there’s nothing I could do about it. If they found out I was actually speaking to ghosts they would start to look at me funny for taking my stories way too seriously.

Then again, what if that fellow, known to the world as Edward K wasn’t actually all that wrong, what if he came close to some sort of revelation from the dead. Nevertheless I stayed up late yet Edith despised the idea because if I continued this erratic behavior I would fall physically and mentally ill.

YOU´RE ACTING AS IF IT WERE A HAUNTED HOUSE. WHAT, DO YOU THINK THE WALLS ARE GONNA BLEED OR SOMETHING?

"No, but actually that would be awesome. No, I won’t do it again, I swear."

Edith crossed her arms and grew puzzled, "What do you expect to find?"

I answered way too cynically, "Nothing but I still wonder what was it that made me feel so sick, I tried to put that so behind me and yet it haunts me.”

“I need to tell you something. I didn’t mention it because I know how sensitive you are but...”

I grabbed her hand to calm her down. “What was it?”

She sighed, “On that day we decided to have sex for the first time, remember?”

Then of course I remembered. Though I wasn’t her first she acted so timidly and I as usual so experienced, that’s why I let her be on top to show me what she was capable of, like she trying to get a gold medal or something.

“I never thought it was a hot idea, I felt guilty and wanted to run away.”

“So did I, I thought I made it clear as well.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about. The next morning I woke up having this terrible dream...about you.”

“You don’t have to give the details you know, I understand if you want to keep it to yourself.”

“But I want to!” she shouted, “I do then maybe I will be able to understand you better. Anyway, we were in this very same spot in the living room. You stood there shirtless and I wore a silky lavender gown I believe and you said,

"We have to talk."

Then I said, "Fine, go ahead."

Then you said, "It's serious. After you left I took the liberty of having a brief a relationship with Daniel."

I said, "That...sounds normal, I guess."

And you, "You were away for so long and I felt abandoned."

I said, "Why do you say that?"

Then you said, "Because you're afraid of embracing me and my lifestyle, you're even afraid of being yourself."

Then I said , "But why him?"

You said, "I just let things take their natural course...I didn't go out and looked for him, he found me, we found each other but it all went by so fast and it doesn't make me happy at all."

I said, "Maybe because you are still confused about your preferences..."

You said, "What?! I am not confused, I may be sometimes paranoid, deranged and dramatic but I not ashamed."

Then I said, "I'm guessing it could have been for curiosity..."

Then you said, "Listen, I am more experienced than you could ever dream of but I have needs."

I said, "Then if you cared about me so much then why didn't you come after me all this time?"

You said,"Because sweetie, I wanted you to come after me instead, I like to be chased...it's my nature, I am the White Rabbit but you can never have me."

And then you held me so tightly that was able to listen to your heart beat which was so quickly.

“Well?” she said as she asked for my opinion.

“I’m speechless. “Your vision of me is that I am a sort of insatiable monster?”

“Was, and my father had a lot to with that.”

“Forget it, why are you telling me this now?”

She sighed more deeply , “Because when I left I swore I heard a voice , a childish voice that said, “Leave! You should leave now!” So as you can see I do believe something is wrong but not enough to call it a haunted house.

“Then why won’t you believe me? You’re supposed to be my best friend!” I cried.

“Am I just that? Best friends wouldn’t keep secrets from each other, now would they?”

Edith left and went upstairs about an hour.

I could read between the lines and knew quite well that she would eventually ask me about Daniel at any given moment. I just didn’t have the heart to tell her or even explain that I was simply cruising back then.

4 AM, nothing relevant took place. I sat on the maplewood floor and began to drink red wine alone until it kicked in. I covered my face to avoid falling asleep and thought out loud, “Come out, come out..”

I felt I was being embraced and it seemed so familiar that I began to quiver.

You´re so fucking beautiful...you can´t be real," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, don´t love me too much, I care about someone else so much anyways..."

"That´s the thing..." he said while grasping my neck. "The girl, told me to tell you that "she" interferes...tries to explain it all and she will ruin it all. If you don´t leave her we´ll have to get rid of her."

"That´s insane! I´m not leaving Edith just because you say so! This is my house and these are my rules!"

"But my queen was here before you came along, it´s her place. She could set it all on fire like it happened ages ago..."

"Fuck you, Daniel, I have better things to do."

"Oh yeah, like leaving me here to die and not give a fuck?"

I regained consciousness and next thing you know I was right beside Edie in bed , like it had been just another dream.

"Is everything alright? You look sort of pale," she said in a low voice.

"Um, yeah, I just...felt a little bit dizzy, u know."

"I know what you´re up to."

Now I was paler than ever.

"But don´t drink too much." She then kissed me gently and placed her arms around me, I could smell her sweet scent, "I can´t control you but if you´d let me..."

"You can´t tame me, you know that. Sometimes I´m better off running wild but you can be sure that I´ll always come back to you feeling hungrier than ever."

"Is that a fact?"

"Hello, Edith, are you there?"

I´M JUST ABOUT TO GO INSIDE THE APARTMENT, SWEETIE. SO WHAT HAPPENED THIS TIME?

"Nothing. The contractors arrived on time, but this Wyman is supervising the whole thing...something about the walls in the living room."

YOU WERE IN THE LIVING ROOM; ISN´T IT GREAT? I FOUND IT FAR MORE COMFORTING THAN THE ONE WE HAVE HERE.

"Uh...sure, whatever you say, girl. Listen, I need to tidy up my studio because I´ll some very important people coming over, is my black sketchbook there by any chance?"

OH HO, I THINK I´M GONNA HAVE A HARD TIME FIGURING IT OUT; I HAVEN´T SEEN IT EVER SINCE YOU LOCKED YOURSELF UP PAINTING...

Shit.

"Well, I´m trying hard to not get so eccentric on you but I´d prefer to have that one. Besides, I need it so they can use some material."

OK, JUST CALM DOWN; LET ME SEE WHAT I CAN DO, BUT I CAN´T PROMISE YOU ANYTHING.

Inspiration had hit me like never before and I couldn´t afford to lose it. I had to make a mental picture of where I put that sketchbook. But since it was somewhat late I couldn´t think straight on an empty stomach.

-------

"She can also perceive your frailty and that's what sickens her." Ava.

While we were putting books in their place we happened to stumble upon some very interesting titles. Edith thought the best place to look for lost things was in her bookcase. What an awesomely large bookcase she had; it reminded of the bookstore that guy Coreander used to have in The Neverending Story. After we settled our discussion about the supernatural we proceeded to enjoy to an extraordinary bowl of miso soup, I helped.

So as I felt the warmth coming back to my precious body I leafed through the pages another interesting piece of literature called Manual de Psicomagia or in plain English Psychomagic Handbook. It was certainly full of these sorts of twisted rituals, more like something a shaman would do. Edith said that while she doing her practices on NYU she had the pleasure of treating a Chilean patient and heavily recommended her to read this when handling toxic relationships; those I would have to say are the trickiest ones to recognize.

Apparently they start off as an innocent friendship with nothing but good intentions but in the end one of the parties who happens to have an unhealthy habit to live off other people´s experiences instead of his own will eventually consume you, like a vampire. There was a ritual in the book to get rid of them; just grab a picture of that toxic person and put black tape over his mouth as you out it upside down inside a freezer...now that did sound like witchcraft. I wish I could have done that with Lisa.

SO, DID YOU LIKE IT?

"What, the soup or the book?"

THE BOOK, SILLY. I SEE YOU GOT HOOKED ON IT AND STOPPED TALKING TO ME ABOUT AN HOUR AGO.

"Oh, it´s really something else, I gotta tell you that. However this one sounds more like black magic."

NO IT´S NOT! IT MAY SOUND UNCONVENTIONAL BUT I THINK IT WORKS. I´M NOT INTO VOODOO OR ALL THOSE DARK ARTS BUT THIS IS VERY INSIGHTFUL AND CHALLENGING.

"I´ll keep that in mind, especially this part about blocked artists. According to this, parents make you feel guilty for wanting to become a dreamer and eventually they mentally castrate you until you develop writer´s block. You know technically how that is cured?

YES; IT´S A SEXUAL THING, BUT IF YOU WANNA GO AHEAD, DO IT AT YOUR OWN RISK.

"Well, it doesn´t necessarily involve two people. But I think what I did yesterday was cathartic; you should try it too."

DON´T YOU HAVE WORK TO DO?

Again I could feel her discontent. "Sure I do! Now that I found my golden ticket I can work even easier.

A few hours later Mark arrived so he could give me a hand with the material we were going to select for the book. I kept staring at him because he was so bundled up and puffy he looked like the freaking the goddamn Marshmallow Man. I could only see his tiny brown eyes.

"Yes, what´s up, dude? It´s so ridiculously windy outside," he said.

"I don´t feel nothing. You must be allergic to this New York weather," I answered sarcastically.

"Hey, I´ve been talking to Feivel the other day and he´s got some very interesting folk you might wanna talk to, you know...he says you haven´t checked your mail either."

"Whaddaya mean?" I asked feeling slightly indifferent.

"Don´t you know? This shit was amazing! I mean the exhibition attracted so many followers."

"Oh, followers! I know what you´re talking about."

DON´T TRY TO REASON WITH MARK, HE´S FIXATED NOW ON DOING RITUALS.

"I know that, the whole thing about sleeping in empty houses? I should have gone with you, by the way. Isn´t that what a brother´s supposed to do, be there all the time?"

"S-s-sure...whatever you say, bro..." How adorable; I never officially had a brother or sister, so it´s fun when other people are willing to offer to fill that tiny void. The great thing is that you can finally pick on someone no holds barred, so every single time that I could I channeled my sarcasm on Mark. It´s in our nature to destroy ourselves.

And he was right: he was so goddamn right. The moment I opened the blog section of my website a huge swarm of comments came along even I had some from last week. I can even tell you what sorts of things they had the nerve to spew:

"You might not know this but I often have dreams about you Adrian. They're not offensive or anything so don't worry. It was so real. I was in a large gallery just like the one you were in Chelsea but even larger. I can even recall there was a hardwood floor and it had many levels. I saw you and the owner of the place promised us we could talk to you in person, however that became incredibly difficult. Do you know how it feels when you're waiting in line outside this very cool nightclub and no one will let you in no matter how hot you look? Same thing.

After a while I discovered that I wasn't gonna able to meet you; I felt so down and out and broken hearted. So then I went with some friends over to the lobby and then they left me all by myself...The place was huge and pretty neat by the way; I could even recall these beautiful ceiling lights that looked like spheres and everything. So anyway I was leaning against a banister doing nothing, just thinking of my poor luck when out of nowhere I heard a voice that said:

"I believe you were expecting me..."

So then when I turned around it was you! You looked so great, all dressed in black and leather. So then I gave you a great big hug and then you told me, "We're friends, right?" And then you left. Just some stuff I thought you'd like to know because I remember the last thing I stared at when I went to bed was your the image of your painting called The Thousand, so then I said," this is the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"Oh crap, that's so sweet," I said as I made faces to Edith and Mark. "You know, the place she describes looks an awful lot like the Guggenheim Museum, although I haven't been there in a long time...how symbolic even." Lindsay.

SO A GIRL WRITES YOU THAT SHE'S HAD DREAMS ABOUT MEETING YOU?

"You can probably say it's only an innocent fantasy, but I still don't find anything really special about it."

OH THAT'S SO SWEET, WHAT ELSE IS IN THERE?

"Oh well, there's another guy that describes a dream in which I was hanging out with him in some bar in his neighborhood while we gabbed about Dali and how he changed our lives, blah, blah... Do you remember that time when you told me you had hallucinations after watching Ritual, Edith?"

YES, AND YOUR POINT IS...

"See, this thrills me, but I can't stop thinking that there's a pattern in here somewhere. I still don't buy this deal that everybody describes lucid dreams in which they see me; how flattering, but how ass-kissing of them."

ADRIAN...YOU KNOW, I´M THE ONLY PERSON WHO HAS DISCUSSED THOSE THINGS WITH YOU OPENLY.

"Are you sure? Cuz I could tell that was starting to become some sort of trend."

NO, IT´S NOT. YOU HAVE MANAGED TO FISH OUT OF YOUR UNCONSCIOUS THINGS THAT ARE PART OF THE COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS.

"Come again?" asked Mark in a sort of more serious attitude.

"You see, if everyone sees the rabbit as an element of the unconscious mind on the real world then as you dream you will reveal your true self to others. Did you know that in a way the rabbit represents in some ways strong intuition because he can find the way even in the dark?" explained Edith.

"And exactly how did you find that out?" asked Mark.

I´M A FUTURE THERAPIST, I´M APPLYING THE ANALYSIS OF JUNG. NOT THAT HARD.

"Wait a sec...so let see if I get this straight, what happens if my man right here keeps painting rabbits?" asked Mark again.

"Yeah, tell us Edith and you said you´re no psychic..." I said.

THAT YOU CAN EXPECT FOR THESE COMMENTS TO FLOOD YOU FOR YEARS, THUS PEOPLE WILL BUILD A BOND WITH YOU, LIKE THEY´RE PART OF A FAMILY OR SOMETHING...

"How do you stop it then?" I asked looking at her.

DEAR, WHILE YOU WERE READING I DID SOME SERIOUS THINKING ABOUT WHAT YOU WERE PRODUCING AND IT HAS POWER SO BE CAREFUL WITH IT OR ELSE...

"Or else what?" Now she starting to scare me.

THERE ARE VERY SENSITIVE PEOPLE OUT THERE AND THEIR IMAGINATION WILL SOAR AND START TO BELIEVE THAT WHAT YOU EXPERIENCE EVEN THOUGH IT´S JUST A DREAM IS REAL.

"Whatever, as long as it´s all in my head, right?" I said.

THE MIND IS A VERY STRONG MUSCLE; YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT CAN HAPPEN IF YOU STRETCH IT TOO MUCH.

Whatever, as long as it attracts followers.

-------

New day, new shit, new everything...which day of the week was it anyway? ah, Thursday! I didn´t really keep track of time until I was done doing work. I took Mark´s advice and found out that I had a sort of full agenda. For example, this weekend we were busy rummaging through my stuff selecting which pieces were gonna go into the art book. The author was an artist as well; his name was Fly and he looked like the kind of person who hangs out in metal bars, but less harmless. He was sort of bulky and bald; great tats by the way but I still can´t drive myself to have one; Edith worships my virginal skin.

I also realized we kept sending each other telepathic signals in our dreams about the same theme: weddings. Now don´t get me wrong, we live together but she doesn´t look like the kind of girl who wants to settle down. Edith is just ready to fly somewhere else, but I don´t she´ll able to follow me everywhere unless I stay here. There will be a moment in which we will both have to go on our separate ways. She knows that very well but that doesn´t automatically give the right to do whatever the Hell I want, like I remember when I began to live alone I used to party harder than now like any young person would...but when I get these huge wake up calls like the one last month and then realize I should take it easy.

Before she went off to college Edith told me she had this one other dream;

She was a teenager perhaps and her family wanted her to get married. So then they set her up with two, yes two prospects. You know when they do those arranged marriages in India? This one was, I guess sort of like the same thing. She was heavily concerned because she claimed to be too young for this. She saw both men and one of them of looked like me...yes, me. The other one, I dunno, must have been some losery guy. Still, she managed to call the wedding off on time. Her mother told her, "you can always do that as long as you´re not wearing the dress, honey."

How was this supposed to make sense in real life? It never does, but it´s actual proof that Edith might still be unsure about certain changes in our relationship. I´m starting to think that this whole idea of living in Chelsea is turning out to be a very hostile situation; was it that in the end SoHo was home after all? Being there was strictly business, not just because; if I had the chance to choose I would never leave but you can never treat an artist like a caged bird; you have to be where the action is. We need to have a more serious talk.

-----------------

The following event took place before I went to sleep.

"What's wrong Edith?"

NOTHING'S WRONG WITH ME; IT'S JUST THAT YOU MANAGE TO COMPLICATE SOMETHING SO SIMPLE.

"I think it's the other way around isn't it? Because I need you to be with me on this; if you don't want to then it's fine by me."

FINE? SO YOU CAN HANDLE THINGS FINE WITHOUT ME?

"I'm just giving you some freedom because I can. I wish I could give myself the freedom to do other things but I'm very solicited."

YOU'RE SOLICITED, SO THEN BECAUSE I'M NOT INDISPENSABLE I CAN EASILY WALK AWAY FEELING I NEVER MADE A BIG CHANGE IN YOUR PERSONAL LIFE?

"Why are you talking like this? It's so not you."

BECAUSE I DEMAND TO EXIST. I MAY NOT HAVE YOUR TALENTS BUT I DESERVE TO BE NOTICED SOMEHOW.

"What do you mean you don't have TALENT? You're so smart, even smarter than I am; we complement each other, you fill in the gaps, I'd crash without you."

AND IF I DIDN'T DO THIS FOR A LIVING WOULD YOU STILL NEED ME?

"You'd still have that capacity to understand and help people."

AND IF I DIDN'T HAVE IT? DO YOU FEEL THE CONSTANT NEED TO QUESTION EVERYTHING THAT'S UNUSUAL IN YOUR LIFE?

"Isn't that what any ordinary human being does, question the secrets of the universe?"

YEAH, BUT NOT OBSESSIVELY LIKE YOU! I realize that there's great power in what you dream but paying too much attention to it can only end up in a nervous breakdown. But you're not like that, are you? Remember we had this discussion before and you cried?"

"No need to remind me."

THEY'RE JUST FEELINGS, OR CALL IT BOTTLED UP FEELINGS, but the point is that eventually they get resolved when you learn how to identify them correctly. When you misinterpret something and take it literally then you become more anxious and then it starts getting bigger and bigger until it becomes this huge monster.

"That's great and all but I'm not asking you to heal me, honey...I, I just need you to be with me and make this less difficult."

ADRIAN, I THINK IT'S DIFFICULT FOR US TWO. A PART OF YOU HESITATES BUT THE OTHER ONE IS MOVING FORWARD. I MAY JUST FEEL NERVOUS FOR HAVING TO BLEND IN WITH NEW CROWDS.

Why was this becoming such a huge ass of a deal? I felt like I was losing a limb or something. So a part of me refuses to go like I probably may have written here some time ago, but that was normal. Edith also said that dreams are exaggerated sometimes in order to pay attention, but not too much. And now that I'm starting to pick up the pieces it's just common jitters! There was absolutely nothing to fear, was there?

So we tried to relax a little bit. She laid her head upon my chest and shrugged as I was some sort of comfy pillow; after all she was shivering and in the end she whispered in her sleep, "Stay with me, please...I don't need anyone else but you."

I wasn't her first boyfriend exactly...yet, for some goddamn reason I was the one who inspired more confidence. Out of all the skanky, lovesick, utterly suffocating partners I've encountered she's the only one who's actually trying to talk some sense into my system, so maybe that's why it hurts. That reminded of a phrase,

"It has to hurt if it's to heal."

A sort of flagrant sensation invaded my neck...hmm; I could clearly sense my baby was on fire...

"Her temperature's rising, but any idiot would know that."

There's always a sign in nature that announces the end of a season; the first leaf falling, the invasion of birds flying south for the winter, and me covered in dozens and dozens of beautiful butterflies in my dreams, for I knew well that they meant that this was a sign of rebirth or a new journey.

I feel a tad shy to confess the bizarre mind trip I had last night because Edie certainly has a way of unleashing her dark side in bed. I’ve driven her to do that just to please me.I've noticed that before but never quite like this.

In my dream she appeared as an obscure character meanwhile I laid flat on the floor, half naked. She leaned for a while and pulled out a paintbrush where she drew a perfectly outlined black cross in the middle of my chest. Next she touched it and I felt a burning sensation like an open wound and practically saw black butterflies emerging. After the swarm cleared up the girl stuck her hand all the way down and pulled out what seemed to be...a rabbit? I swear he looked like Scraps but he was black with blue eyes, yet it seemed awfully suspicious that she exclaimed,

"There, that's where you were! Now come down and I'll make some breakfast."

The next thing you know I woke up having a feeling of déjà vu for some of the events in the dream happened in real life. For example, it was around 3:15 AM and I quickly rolled my eyes and nothing happened.

DEAR, IT'S 3 AM, YOU BETTER GO BACK TO SLEEP, THIS IS THE WITCHING HOUR.

Edith threw her arm over me and clutched me. In the morning she acted like nothing unusual happened...in fact I was astonished, was she possessed, or was it good old-fashioned lust I experienced? I'm sorry, but it was the first time she acted THIS strange, I wasn't actually complaining, it's just that I felt sort of dirty.

HEY, I HAVE AN IDEA...

Oh great, I LOVE ideas...

Next thing you know we were in this small, yet welcoming coffee shop down on Mercer Street. The ambient was rather dark and mysterious but not too quiet. She insisted that I tried the exotic teas.

I ALWAYS USED TO COME HERE IN MY FRESHMAN YEAR; I DON'T KNOW WHY I HAVEN'T INVITED YOU.

"I think you have; the difference is I didn't accept before." I said as a courtesy because I really didn't want to make her feel bad.

THIS IS WHERE I USUALLY CAME TO STUDY PEACEFULLY WITH MY FRIENDS.

"Do you miss them?"

SORRY?

"I said do you miss them?"

NO, OF COURSE NOT. I STILL SEE THEM. But then we started visiting other places, you know, until I met you.

"And what drove you to change your direction, then?"

I FELL IN LOVE WITH THESE STREETS...I REALIZED I WAS MISSING OUT ON SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT...and if I didn´t pay attention to it my life would have been just like anybody else´s. So then I stumbled upon this little place where they did palm and Tarot reading and that´s how I found Ava. She told me,

"You´re whole life is about to change...you will meet someone who´ll show you the way. He will heal you and you will heal him."

It seemed pretty outrageous at the time, but not anymore. She said, "You are a Virgo; your symbol is The Hermit, you are a healer."

"And you believed that blindly? Do you think that fate gives some kind of obligation to stay with me?"

NO, BUT I REALIZED THE TRUTH because I was blind for many years, running away and now I, I found home.

And I guess that explains why she thought about me that Thanksgiving weekend, for it seems that the reason she felt homesick was actually unfinished business at home. So she settled it, but something tells me she´s growing more distant from her folks than ever, especially since the loss of her father last year.

We´re all broken in the end; fixing each other is what life is all about.

--------------

So one of my ´children´ the oil and pastel large painting of The Thousand got its first big break as it became officially sold. The price? Well, it´s was for more than I expected it would be. What seemed more engaging however was the buyer. The name; Alice Morris, and though I rarely get the chance to meet the clients on this special occasion I was required. It thrills me because Feivel said ever so sarcastically,

"Alice is after the Rabbit."

The Thousand was simple yet introspective. It resembled a hole with several streaks of color and around it where the souls of many other critters guided by The Black Rabbit with the infinity symbol upon his head. Didn´t it make any sense that these sort of elements are the window or the portal to other worlds? Some ideas I even picked them by looking at the Tarot card called The World. I wasn´t intending to do magic honestly but just exorcise some demons.Who would have thought that those demons would attract so many interesting people? Indeed this journey has just begun...

----------------

"This has to be one of the most amazing works I've ever seen, and believe me I've been places. I'm Alice Morris, I'm an artist as well."

"I'm glad you're feel pleased..."

"Oh, come now, don't be shy! It's absolutely delightful, don't you agree?"

Ms. Morris came all the way from England. She looked impeccable and had an extraordinary sense of humor yet she was very tenacious. She had worked for almost fifteen years in Tate Modern until she finally decided to show her work in downtown London; things roll very differently over there.

"The work sells for itself, darling. I'm absolutely sure that your success is guaranteed in Europe. Are you newcomer?"

"My lady, I've been here since the last decade, but I've gained fame roughly about two or three years ago. But um, quite frankly my style has taken a different direction yet I've always been a loyal follower of Expressionism."

"Yes! Absolutely. The simplicity reminded me of Basquiat, but even more naïve."

"It´s a huge honor to follow his footsteps. I like to connect with almost everything I interact in a very special way."

"Whatever it is must it a real gift then."

I know someone who was gonna miss this painting, and that wouldn´t me.

---------------

This certainly seemed the perfect occasion to celebrate my newfound victory. Ever since I felt the need to work intensively I've lost the meaning of the word holiday and now it was starting to make sense. While the rest of the world feasted counting down the 25 days of Christmas and clutching every last shiny piece of merchandise like ravens down in SoHo we caught up with Fly to visit his domains in Brooklyn. He had an odd fascination for drawing and crafting insects, thus the name Fly. He actually made fun of my rabbits but I guess it could count as a very subtle icebreaker.

"Street art is cool," he said in a very light way. "But how did you manage to do it in that fancy neighborhood?"

"That was a shit load of time ago, my friend. The difference is I used to do it outside the galleries now I do it inside and much much better, do you know what I mean."

"Nah, he just likes the high profile crowds, but deep down inside walked down these hoods, see," said Mark kinda like backing me up.

Fly also liked to collect skulls. He showed me a huge one made out of what is called barro negro, which is a sort of black clay with a very handsome shiny finish. His family came all the way from Mexico and that technique was very popular, among other things.

"Are you afraid to die?" said Fly holding a knife made out of that same black material.

What a question. But yes, who wouldn´t be, especially in these crazy times that we live in?

"Back where my daddy came from the Day Of The Dead is quite something," he continued.

"Oh yeah, I´ve seen that before," said Mark.

"You can mock death, but you still pay a great deal of respect to it, it´s like another member of the family. Be careful and you remember the next time you think you´re gonna fall into its clutches."

Nice advice, but I´m not currently planning on visiting that relative.

Lisa Stewart, so I heard was Fly's ex-girlfriend. That night of the exhibition I was moved by her dangerous ways, like the dark side always seduces me. She didn´t exactly live here; she came from sunny California yet she still bothered to come all the way up here dressing all skimpy and all. It was her idea, not ours. I love tenacious, bold women.

------

So they showed me a picture of Lisa and to my shock I was amazed to see that she wore the same outfit that I saw in the dream I had about Edith. Are women turning into witches now, or is it that everytime they get close to someone like me they feel more powerful? Well, it could be, but then again it could have a hidden meaning like sex. Yeah, that might be it. Damn it, it was getting cold outside.

-------------

I'm not an idiot although some people may have that opinion about me. After having spent an interesting afternoon with my festive newfound friend Fly and his fetish loving ex-girlfriend´s pics to my surprise Edith had a rather strange suggestion.

WICKED, YOU KNOW THAT MUSICAL, HAVE YOU EVER SEEN IT?

"Heard of it but not really, never liked musicals..."

YEAH, BUT I THINK YOU HAVEN´T GOT SCARED ENOUGH; YOU NEED SOME PASSION INJECTED IN YOUR VEINS.

"Aha! Now I´m not passionate enough, " I said amazed at Edith´s little speech. I liked what she had on, kinda of a laced black tank top, and no, she didn´t feel cold at all.

YOU WON´T FEEL SORRY, I PROMISE. HERE´S TO A MAGICAL EVENING YOU WON´T FORGET.

"Do I really ignite the dark side of you, girl?" I said as I crossed my arms. We were standing in our puny, cozy kitchen.

"You always do. Besides, this is the best way to avoid all that holiday blues since you prefer to stay inside most of the time," she answered as she hogged a tiny bowl of cheese.

"Really? I think you got your holiday´s crossed for some weird reason."

NO I DON´T. IT´S JUST THAT I LIKE TO BE ORIGINAL EVERY NOW AND THEN, CAN´T YOU TELL?

"I think you´re starting to sicken from my extravagance and you know there´s only one way to solve this..."

OH, NO, NOT AGAIN.

"Yes..." I added cynically. Next I went to one of my private sanctuaries; the wine cellar. She wasn´t very fond of drinking heavy stuff so I treated her to some exotic absinthe, because you know what they say, "absinthe makes the heart grow fonder." I only used in case of emergency, you know, for when there´s a huge need for inspiration. One sip and the world is yours.

OK...NOW IF FEEL IN THE MOOD.

"You should know that this has about roughly about 60% alcohol, but I´ve had stronger shit."

IT´S LOVELY, STILL, WHAT´S IN IT?

"It´s mostly composed of aromatic flowers, chamomile and licorice, I prefer when the licorice kicks in."

ARE YOU TRYING TO KNOCK ME OUT?

I laughed so relaxed, "No...I´m doing some of my own magic..."

OK, LET´S GO BEFORE I GO INSANE...

So she convinced me in the end to make this a sinister night surrounded by singing witches, let them sing me to sleep so that I may have some very wicked dreams...

---------------

That was a rather esoteric weekend I'll have to say. Unfortunately what goes up must come down and give way to Monday. I must have experimented some side effect from having seen those pics of Lisa but mind you, she's not the original Lisa. the reason why I couldn't stop thinking about what was for her taste for danger. It's one of those rare situations in life when you stumble upon something and with just one look you're clanged to it like a little disgusting leech, as if it were specifically designed to aim at your darkest side and not miss. I'll have to say I'm achieving the same effect with my paintings, this girl Lindsay keeps posting her nightmares, visions and who knows what other hallucinations. I don't care; we're all mad here anyway.

Still, last night seemed like a very down to earth, in your face dream. I was exactly in the same place I was yesterday in the kitchen while Edith was fixing breakfast. And so I kissed her cheek and started discussing an innocent little encounter with Lisa Stewart. And then she froze. "Tell me you did not say that!" And then I came to my senses saying, "sorry, my bad; it was only a dream, honey, it'll never happen again." But then I walked away returning to my activities and thought to myself, "The truth is this wasn't any dream, it was real." So was Daniel, like all my encounters are still haunting me.

So then now I woke up with anxiety, more or less about 3:15 AM. The wind was blowing pretty loud and I could notice that even there was a slight blackout, for about less than a minute. I also noticed how startled Scraps was; now that the winter season started to kick we keep him closer to us. Now that I think of it I experienced this before, except that Edith wasn't here. It still felt the same way because she was out cold hogging the covers as if she was going to fall from bed.

It took another hour to go back to sleep...I walked and walked dragging my feet...remorse? Why the Hell would I feel this way if I've never even officially met this new Lisa, or is it just that unconsciously I can't get over her?

But don't get me wrong; it's not like I killed her and chopped her into teeny tiny pieces and threw the remains in the river, it's just that we never broke up to begin with. I left Elyria without even telling her; I mean, why would I do that, she meant absolutely nothing to me. On the other hand she scarred me because she hit me where it hurt the most and I'm not exactly talking about breaking my heart. No, she did something worse than that. What kind of vicious, insensitive whore poisons your cat? Jealousy, of course! That's an even worse bitch.

----------------

A mysterious presence from the unknown emerged...

HEY, SWEET THING, WE´RE HAVE YOU BEEN? ALWAYS HIDING OUT FROM THE SPOTLIGHT, WHAT ARE YOU BECOMING A VAMPIRE?

"Um, no, but I have been hanging out with some witches lately...say, how are things going in the art world, is it a good business?" I said sarcastically to Chloe while I was hanging out in my studio.

LISTEN, YOU ARE SO NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS...DO YOU KNOW THAT GIRL DROOGIE?

"Uh, yeah, isn´t it that singer chick who goes out wearing her entire closet?" I replied.

YES, WELL HER ASSISTANT CALLED IN AND IS WILLING TO GET RABBIT MONSTER AND GO EASY ON THE EYELINER, SHE WAS SWEPT AWAY BY THEM...

"How much?" I said insistingly.

"20 grand for the first and 25 grand for the second one..." he answered.

"Alright! These rock stars are sure crazy ´bout art, aren´t they?"

WELL, YOU SEE IT´S A MATTER OF TRENDS. LET´S SAY WE FOUND A MARKET FULL OF CRAZY COLLECTORS AND I THINK IT´S A SWELL IDEA TO STAY THERE.

"Can I meet her? I´m her biggest fan..." I said in a sort of fake, childish tone.

NO, NO, BE SERIOUS. LISTEN, IF WE KEEP UP THIS TREND THEY WILL BE CHOOSING YOU FOR MORE COMMISSIONS AND THAT´S EVEN BETTER.

"Why?" I said.

I THINK YOU FOUND THE SECRET FORMULA, OR RECIPE OR SOMETHING; SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH THE RABBITS.

"Who doesn´t, my dearest queen?"

I JUST CAME TO DROP THE NEWS; I´LL GIVE YOU THE DETAILS LATER. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK.

Somehow I felt that the attention coming from the mainstream pop industry sounded more like selling out, but hey that girl Droogie, who happened to grow up in the humble streets of Brooklyn had now chosen my art to enhance the beauty of her new pad in the nicest part of SoHo. Maybe I´ll drop by soon and check her out...

In other news, a good friend of mine, Mikester was having an exhibition over at a gallery in Chelsea. I couldn´t say no; he was a sort of partner in crime in art school. Nobody thought that he could be successful because he was considered like a sort of geek, but then he hit the spot by turning the geek parafernalia into something trendy and chic and there you go. We found the g spot of people´s psyches and they seemed to be enjoying it very much. This was gonna be a very memorable day...

Augh, after I settled my social affairs today I came back with the most awful headache I could never imagine. Edith also told me I´ve been carrying a lot of anxiety lately and that you exaggerate every little thing. That reminded me of the episodes Alice used to have when she changed size. And so because my perception of things was way over the top I had to calm down in order to understand what was really going on.

YOU HAVE TO STOP WAKING UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, DEAR.

"I´m not so sure about that since it´s against my will, " I answered politely. We were in the middle of the living room attempting to relax. She handed me over some wine which worked pretty well to warm me up.

OF COURSE, NOT. YOU CAN DO IT, YOU´RE JUST MAKING A BIG SCANDAL OVER NOTHING.

And so she made me notice; I mean, why was I waking up at 3 AM anyway? I was accustomed to sleep at least 7 to 8 hours. Now I sleep every two hours; could it be that I was becoming more hyperactive like my rabbit?

They also explained to me that in order to bring down the headache I needed to think about nothing, a blank mind, unreal because I´m supposed to be creative all the time, how was that gonna happen? Oh well.

------------

"I have a feeling somebody´s watching me Mikester," I sat down and started chatting with my old friend on my laptop. "Well, but don´t act like you´re all fucked up man, why do you ask that?"

"I don´t know how to explain it. It´s like saying, "I inspired somebody to do create something and that OK. But what´s really freaking me out is that somehow they have managed to think exactly the same way I do."

"Like when there´s a coincidence, you mean?" wrote Mikester with silly worried smileys.

"Well, yes. I keep reading these comments in my page of people who say they think the same way I do. Call it sympathize or ass-kissing but even sometimes they describe events similar to my everyday life and they put them before mine happen."

"Jeez, calm down. Is it real?" typed Mikester.

"I´m afraid so. There´s a thing called a psychic link. Now, I´m too much into the supernatural but it haunts me. They say I could, at some point share that link because I´m a sort of empathetic person. Anyway, your show kicked ass."

"Oh yeah, so did yours! So is it true that Droogie wants your paintings?"

"Yes. I have a strong curiosity to see her in person..."

"Doesn´t everybody, they all wonder what outrageous getup she´s gonna wear next..."

"Mikester..."

"What is it?"

"Ever since I started including rabbits in my work things have started to get pretty goddamn strange. Even Edith I might be suffering from an anxiety attack."

"Well, suppose there is a strong theory that it causes some side effect on people. But then let´s say not all people experience the same thing. It´s like the time when they blamed it on videogame violence. They still couldn´t prove anything and what did they do? Rating system, that´s what."

"But the problem is you can´t rate art..." I said.

"True. Angry parents could just call it obscene. But then if you place it on a museum it´s culture! You can get away with it. Therefore, I would find it incredibly hard that your rabbit paintings could harm anybody. Still, keep an eye on things, my friend; you never know what fucked up creep might try something..."

"Gotcha. Gotta go, heaven´s waiting..."

"OK!!! Have fun with the misses..."

Oh, I was having fun alright. It´s rabbit season...sorry Santa, move over.

-------------

The little dead girl resurfaced in the usual fashion. She sat down on an improvised table pretending to drink some tea and continued another twisted tale but it was a vision.

"Here , here," announced the March Hare pursing his snout and knocking a tablespoon against a very fine teacup. He got up from the table and continued, "I propose that today we all become rabbits!"

Alice was indeed confused this time for she actually came looking for that swift, uncanny cottontail since she was hungry for answers. And slowly one by one all of the guests in the party revealed their faces and looked all the same. They all vigorously shouted, "I AM THE RABBIT!"

"NO, NO, NO, NO!" cried Alice as she hit the dinner table. "Would you please all make up your minds and tell me who are you..."

But the Dormouse whispered to the blonde little girl, "I am the rabbit, dear."

And the she answered, "That's nonsense. Everyone knows you are tiny mouse, why, rabbits don't have long tails!"

"Exactly! I am the rabbit."

The ever so whimsical Mad Hatter had the word, "Why, I am the Rabbit of course dear! Can't you see my big dumb floppy ears?"

Alice was beginning to get annoyed, "Pardon me sir, but I can hardly see our ears because they're covered by your enormous fancy hat."

"And that's exactly the point! My ears are so giganti-normous that won't let me see where I'm going thus I have to hide them."

"Oh, then would you kindly remove your hat?"

"WHAT?!!! THAT'S RATHER RUDE, DON'T YOU AGREE?"

"...very, very rude indeed," answered the Dormouse with a very weary voice.

"IMPOSTORS! You fools, I AM the rabbit," shouted the March Hare.

"Sir..." interrupted Alice.

"YEESSS?"

"You may look like a rabbit, but you're not him. You see he's white and stubby, he wears glasses and carries a pocket watch."

"A what, you say?" replied The March Hare.

"I said WATCH!" answered Alice as she got up from the table.

"WATCH! Now see here, watch YOUR temper, little girl..." said the Hare furiously.

"But I only asked a simple question..."

"And that is?" now asked the Mad Hatter.

"Who is the White Rabbit?"

"We are the rabbit, of course!!!" they all said unanimously.

"This is the stupidest tea party ever; why I'd rather talk to a wall and it would understand much better!"

And that was my dream last night. I mean, how deranged can you possibly get now that you start seeing the one thing everybody else thinks is the craziest tale like Alice In Wonderland.

"Edith!" I shouted.

WHAT, SWEETIE?

"Is it normal for someone to have visions all the time?" I asked. I toiled away in my studio...did I even ever bother to describe the place? Oh yes, I did but back then I was sort of tidying up. Anyway; I could clearly see a fine white layer gathering around the edges of my windows. Yes, it was snowing alright. And your humble narrator was all curled up trying to keep my rabbit warm under my coat.

NOT REALLY, BUT LIKE I SAID YOU'RE DEFINITELY DEVELOPING ANXIETY, LIKE, IS SOMETHING BOTHERING YOU?

"Sure, this! and many other things."

NO, BUT I MEAN LIKE OVERSTRESSING YOURSELF.

"Mmmm, yeah, probably, so that means?"

DREAMS ARE A WAY THAT THE BODY DEALS WITH PAINFUL SITUATIONS WE FACE EVERYDAY SO THAT THEY WON'T AFFECT US GREATLY.

"I know that, but then there are different kinds of dreams like visions; those are the ones that I'm afraid of.

WOULD IT HELP IF WE TALK ABOUT OTHER THINGS SO THAT YOU CAN BE MORE CALM? LIKE, FOR EXAMPLE, DECEMBER?

Ok, I could clearly sense that she was fed up of this subject and it makes sense but I haven't grown tired of it, I could go all night. She would rather talk about how busy these streets can get and that consumerism is far more powerful than any spirit of Christmas.

-----------------

Was it weird that my head suddenly felt like they we're sticking pins and needles into it? I'm afraid so. This anxiety was starting to get pretty darn painful, yet that didn't stop me; I knew I had to find a healthier way out of this.

Tomorrow would be an exciting day as I would meet the eccentric owner of my beloved children, so wish me luck; I love you vermin...

-----

It was a drafty December morn. I woke up at 8 AM and I was under the covers sipping coffee like the mild stimulant addict that I am as I watched with awe a rerun of all time favorite movie Watership Down.

"All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies. And whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first, they must catch you, digger, listener, runner. Prince with a swift warning. Be cunning, and full of tricks, and your people will never be destroyed."

Edie looked rather surprised for my childish behavior, come to think of it she already was concerned for my other unusual behaviors.

"Are you alright, Adrian?,"she said as she sat down with me on the hardwood floor. I hated these typical rehearsed questions, just tell how many people in this world have the guts to say, "NO, I'm not alright!" because you always have to answer the contrary in order to keep everyone happy, especially someone so perky as my girl. So I said, "Yeeees..." but she grew more concerned as she shrugged her shoulders.

THAT'S NOT NICE! ARE YOU BEING SARCASTIC AGAIN?

"Um, no. I'm pretty lucid right now, Edith. I got a date with destiny." I was referring to my close encounter with Droogie. Man, she was only 23 and had achieved worldwide success, practically everyone talked about her.

UH, YES, YOU TOLD ME ALREADY. BUT TRY TO REMAIN CALM...

"Hey, uh, are you feeling jealous? Because that I could definitely detect..."

WHY WOULD I BE JEALOUS? I'M SHARING YOU WITH THE REST OF THE WORLD LIKE YOU ALWAYS TOLD ME TO.

"Don't get mad at me but I had the most curious dream yesterday..."

REALLY? I'D LOVE TO HEAR THAT, BUT CAN YOU PLEASE GET UP SO WE CAN DISCUSS THAT IN THE KITCHEN.

"Ok, whatever you say..."

So then as we had a spiritually infused breakfast I narrated my oneiric exoerience. "Yeah, so imagine; I laid down and all of a sudden all these beautiful girls paraded before me, but all they all had rabbit masks on them."

LIKE BUNNY GIRLS?

"I wish! But no; they just wore very handsomely crafted masks, like something postmodern. Anyway, they all started to reveal their faces and one of them exclaimed, "I'm the rabbit, Adrian; I'm the one you've been looking for!" But then the girl next to her said exactly the same thing and so did the rest. So in the end they all threw themselves upon me..."

AND?

"...and that's it!"

MMM, I HAVE A FEELING THERE'S SOMETHING YOU'RE NOT TELLING ME, BUT I'LL LET YOU KEEP YOUR FANTASIES ANYWAY...

I kinda smiled stupidly, "Yes, I'm excited, very excited..."

Around the afternoon, let's 4 o' clock I arrived at the M. Gallery with impeccable punctuality along with Feivel. He looked very excited as well. You see, because of the horribly busy schedule these artists have they don't have the time for these trivialities and send their assistants, but I was amazed to hear that Droogie would be there personally.

I enjoyed what she had on; she had a faux fur that went all the way down to her waistline, high heel leather stiletto boots, wide sunshades and laced stockings. She also liked to wear different wigs with shrilling tones instead of dying her hair. Droogie was pretty scrawny but it made sense because a voluptuous blonde would have looked incredibly ridiculous.

"How's everything doing, Your Majesty?

"Uh, couldn't be better! Just you wait and see. It's they're practically all lined up to buy this stuff," said Feivel posing like a bodyguard.

"This 'stuff'?" I answered with a bit of surprise. "Is that what you call my art now, just stuff?"

"Hey, don't look at me kid! We have buyers we've never seen before."

"Yeah, I also noticed there were like around sixty or seventy people who've bought prints just this week. I got dozens and dozens of requests up until February," I said. "Yep, what a wonderful way to end this year; multiplication through rabbits."

"Makes perfect sense to me..." said Feivel.

(continued)...

I am not an instrument of evil, I just came here to see the show. Whatever I learn from this experience counts

and my primitive mind makes me draw rabbits in the middle of the night

Maybe my words might sound confusing at the time but this is because they are like chaos...they usually precede new changes, so be patient dear and accept them in your heart.

Not enough words in the dictionary to describe this feeling or maybe not a single one fits the description

"Edie," I asked.

"Yes, dear?"

"Thanks for taking care of me all this time, it might sound lame but...I don't what I would have done without you."

"Don't say things like that...anyway, this incident is supposed to bring us together."

"Could you help me with just one more favor?..."

She hugged me tightly and stroke my back, "What is it, honey?"

"Can you come with me to that place you talked me so much about?"

Death seeks me, it's not my fault if it's on love with me

--------------

He whispered into my ear, "Let’s go somewhere where we can talk.”

So he took me to this place where no one was around, I won´t go into details but I´m willing to describe what happened later.As usual I let him make the first move, boy, did I love to receive.

My weak spot has always been the neck, God, even Edie knows that, how did he know where to strike me?

Then he slowly worked his way down to my hips and grasped it and it rocked it so violently for one miserable second I thought he was devouring my dick. I never experienced such passion for someone like me. I felt so abandoned that it was hard to find a happy thought

"Gawd, you´re beautiful, the more I keep exploring every inch of you gets sooo much better," he said.

I continued, aroused, "I´m glad I make you happy, like a toy, aren´t I?"

"Yeah, but no matter how perfects toys are they could never do this..."

The next thing you know I closed my eyes and gave in, as I kept repeating inside my head, "Just give in, give him what he wants..."

So I came and knowing he was well trained he spit it out as if no harm had been done.

By then I was beginning to see ourselves in visions as a pair of siamese twins joined by the spine, though we couldn´t technically have sex that way. We were always chained and hidden like a repulsive freak

At some point in men's lives no matter how perfect we might seem to be to others we slowly becomes assholes. Not that it makes feel so down that I'll resort to irresponsible drinking or drugs or even contemplate suicide. It's more like saying, "Welcome to the real world, baby!"

I don't want to remain cold hearted for the rest of my life, it's self defense. While I'm not as strong as I thought my selfish attitude has saved me from getting badly injured for being considered a deviate or queer, and while this practice might gain you some powerful allies at the end of the day when you return to the place where always lay your head on can't exactly be called a home because that's where your loved ones are. At least I have what I always wanted; to be feared and respected despite how many assholes or bitches enter my life. I'm cold as ice and my body is hot as Hell.

"I know this may a harsh lesson to you but this is the only way I decided to let people into my love life."

"Would you like me to hurt you the same way you hurt me?"

"That would be a major challenge for you, now wouldn't it?"

"Do you think I'm a weak little mouse who's not able to stand up against you

Not quite sure where I'm going, all I know is that my natural talents will get me somewhere eventually. I earned them all on my own what bothers is that others attempted to literally suck me dry and I let them all in exchange for affection.

My last partner passed away some days ago but I felt more like a lost a limb. Chloe, one of my closest friends said there would be a slight chance of being depressed after this traumatic event but how I wish it wouldn't have happened since it's basically spoiling my work and causing a delay. I arranged to finish exactly twenty two paintings. Fortunately I'm down to just one, the problem is that I can't finish it no matter how easy it is. I think this may have happened to any of you.

Another funny thing that happened these last few weeks, Edith, my non-artistic follower decided to join me once again. A few years ago before Daniel came along she lived here in my big old magnificent loft which is located in the heart of Soho, my primordial source of inspiration. Some say that it has grown so much in this last decade to the point that it has lost some of the mystique that made it possible that the artistic community achieved new heights. I never actually cared about those details. I wanted this place so badly because I felt it chose me. It figures but then again I should warn you, it attracts vermin.

Sometimes I refuse to sleep until it's about 3 AM, not quite if that's the correct time now, I don't keep watches in my workplace...I'm a tad obsessive.

Not bad for a first attempt. Let's see what tomorrow brings.

Can' sleep, I really can't sleep. I felt the need to come back downstairs and continue to write.

I had a dream, a very colorful and vivid one so much that it got me  thinking if it was an actual warning.

"You're letting the sadness get to you," a childish voice said from afar. "Come inside."

And so I literally went through a full body mirror I had placed in my bedroom. The lighting was all blue, a royal blue to be exact.

After I crossed to the other side of this so called looking glass I was walking down a hallway that was filled with dozens of small paintings and my immediate response was that I wept and stood crestfallen as if somehow I knew what was about to come. I went into an operating room. I saw myself tied up to the table while vicious human like creatures with headlights scrutinized every last part of me

I destroy everything I touch and now I am about to touch myself, so how do you like that?

Excuse if I make you feel sick, I must be contagious

You should know better than to be spying my dreams, I know that may be farfetched but you're doing it anyway

Secrety I wanted to be abused

Never have I felt so vulnerable but not that blind enough to realize I can feel

--------------------

I remember the last thing I saw were some drops of red upon the floor

Funny, I didn't see any of that, you just fainted. Why were you at your studio at that hour, anyway

I couldn't sleep.

Well that part makes senses from what they already told me.

What did they tell you exactly?

I can tell you but you might not like it at all. I just can't understand why would you go around and do something so, so...

I should have explained that I have this tendency to self destruct.

And you haven't seeked any help?

Why, so I can become another statistic to illustrate better the idea?

You're the only one with this problem but it can be solved if you are willing to cooperate and start doing for yourself and not to please others. Anyway, I still like you a lot, that's why I stayed here the whole night.

You didn't have to.

Well I had no choice, isn't it obvious?

Just get plenty of rest, you need to regain your strength which is very important.

What I actually don't have is time, I need more to get more organized

I could help you with that, just tell me what you need to get done.

Like I said you don't have to...

Adrian, look at me, I'm your friend not an object.

She contemplated my frailty and she trembled for a bit for I felt it in her tight hug, as if had last someone deared to me.

I blamed myself for his death. That tragic day went I went to bed I began to have trouble sleeping for it felt so empty or was this what emptiness felt like?

-------------

I am an artist, always have and always will be but lately I've been fascinated with the art of self destruction then I self create. It is a nature that is quite common to everyone but I have been taking it way to seriously.

A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.

My last domestic incident was pure nonsense to eyes of the beholder. I had no recollection of the events but I dare blame them on the supernatural, my most loyal fan.

I always cellebrate your work, I'm always there even if you don't see me

I'm flattered

You should be afraid of me because I have attempted to suck the life out of you

I'm an artist, bitch, I'm supposed to be vain.

----

Do you wanna know the real reason why I don't keep clocks in my room?

Ok

Because of this. You can call me a hopeless superstitious bastard but it always happens, always...

...But, you don't have to behave like that in front of me

I hate what I have become

Telling lies in the dark

Do I remind you of anyone, perhaps a storybook girl, the one who is always chasing a rabbit?

If so, why are you here?

Because you are the White Rabbit.

Then that means that I must have a queen

You do have one but you must cut her head off before she decides to grow more

Not sure if I felt pain or a sensation of emptiness. It really didn't matter, I just wanted it to go away

The sky is getting gray, very much like in my dreams

----------------

There were things that the Red Queen hid to carefully to avoid spreading chaos in an already chaotic place such as Wonderland.

Among them was the not so famous Black Rabbit, the White Rabbit's brother, of course. They were very close and used to have amazing adventures when they were little but had to be separated as they grew up. The White Rabbit was the eldest and had royal duties to perform being a messenger while the shady Black Rabbit had a much darker fate. He became a servant of Death and that is why when Her Majesty ordered any living thing that wasn't following her wicked rules to be sent to this fellow to have his or her head cut off.

As time went by, the Black Rabbit began to despise his work, he was beginning to grow weary and jealous of his brother who was always so zesty and willing to go anywhere he pleased without boundaries. Finally, one fine day he made a deal with the forces of the underworld and became something else, a beautiful monster that scared people away but who was willing to maintain the White Rabbit by his side no matter what and that they should never be apart.

"I would make your life a living hell," he said softly, "But I will never hurt you."

-------------

Take it, please

Gosh, do I have to?

That's what it says, every four hours until they're gone.

But I'm started to get better, I don't feel like I need them anymore.

I'm sorry but you have to go by the book, come on, don't be such a cry baby.

Aww, alright.

Here, take this.

Tea. is that what is?

I prefer tea to any other thing.

Nine of Swords

"We have to talk."

"Fine, go ahead."

"It's serious. After you left I took the liberty of having a brief a relationship with Daniel."

"That...sounds normal, I guess."

"You were away for so long and I felt abandoned."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you're afraid of embracing me and my lifestyle, you're even afraid of being yourself."

"But why him?"

"I just let things take their natural course...I didn't go out and looked for him, he found me, we found each other but it all went by so fast and it doesn't make me happy at all."

"Maybe because you are still confused about your preferences..."

"What?! I am not confused, I may be sometimes paranoid, deranged and dramatic but I not ashamed."

"I'm guessing it could have been for curiosity..."

"Listen, I am more experienced than you could ever dream of but I have needs."

"Then if you cared about me so much then why didn't you come after me all this time?"

"Because sweetie, I wanted you to come after me instead, I like to be chased...it's my nature, I am the White Rabbit but you can never have me."

Edie confessed me she woke up one morning with an awful feeling after having this heavy dream that she couldn't exactly call a nightmare. I was surprised she told me, judging by the way she described it I played to role of the despicable asshole.

Oh....," that's the first thing I mustered, then I felt something large and furry running across my back.

"Oh, it's you again, old boy." It was my pet, Scraps, a large white rabbit with black eye patches. He was the second sexiest beast in that house right after me. It seems someone deliberately took him out of his cage and there was only one suspect.

I turned around to see if Edie was around but it wasn't that important. I went back to sleep. It was about 6 AM I believe, the sun was barely up

Do me, he said

"So early?" I asked surprised.

"No," he answered smiling cynically, "I mean paint me so that I can be immortalized."

"And then what, how do you want to be remembered, as a boy whore?" I said.

"I don't mind if

I can´t sleep, I am trapped against four white walls totally against my will. It´s not my own bed and surrounded with strangers running needles down my arm. The only way to keep calm now is to continue writing. Since there´s not much to talk about I might as well introduce myself.

His body was getting colder and my anxiety climbed. I didn´t expect this at all. I can´t even believe the last thing he said, "Immoratlize me in one of your paintings," and I blatantly refused his petition. Now I´m thinking deeply his goal hasn´t been reached.

He leaned his forehead against mine and said, "Hey cutiepie, you don´t to play with us anymore?"

I answered with another question, "God, when will you stop?"

"I always get what I want, even in the afterlife." I felt his icy presence below my waist and instinctively closed my eyes.

"You´re so fucking beautiful...you can´t be real," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, don´t love me too much, I care about someone else so much anyways..."

"That´s the thing..." he said while grasping my neck. "The girl, told me to tell you that "she" interferes...tries to explain it all and she will ruin it all. If you don´t leave her we´ll have to get rid of her."

"That´s insane! I´m not leaving Edith just because you say so! This is my house and these are my rules!"

"But my queen was here before you came along, it´s her place. She could set it all on fire like it happened ages ago..."

"Fuck you, Daniel, I have better things to do."

"Oh yeah, like leaving me here to die and not give a fuck?"

I regained consciousness and next thing you know I was right beside Edie.

"Is everything alright? You look sort of pale," she said in a low voice.

"Um, yeah, I just...felt a little bit dizzy, u know."

"I know what you´re up to."

Now I was paler than ever.

"But don´t drink too much." She then kissed me gently and placed her arms around me, I could smell her sweet scent, "I can´t control you but if you´d let me..."

"You can´t tame me, you know that. Sometimes I´m better off running wild but you can be sure that I´ll always come back to you feeling hungrier than ever."

"Is that a fact?"