THANKS FOR THE FAILURES

  That night that I scuffed along the river in the crusty snow, cursing my lack of luck seeing deer, like a petulant child, taught me a valuable lesson. For some reason i was able to nip this mindset in the bud, and realize how lucky I was to be able to sit in that tree watching "nothing". I went home feeling pretty good. The next morning I drug my ass out of bed in the 15 degree cold, and I shot Bullwinkle. Like my old man was fond of saying "Attitude is everything." He didn't always practice what he preached.....but who does? I'm as guilty as the next guy (and probably more so) of wallowing in my own crapulence. To say I'm my own worst enemy (excepting the Italian neighbors) is an understatement. I constantly have to remind myself how good I have it. Today is such a day.
    Last week, in my post-season funk, I wrote about whoring out everything I do for 2014. I'm sorry. I'm full of shit. My weak need for recognition and money had gurgled to the forefront, blurring my view of the future, causing me to lash out. Like Buddy Budde is fond of saying; "I'm such an assssshole." Let me put it another way. I would like to constructively search out ways, in the coming year, to show, play, publish and yes, dare I say, sell, my work. Work being defined as: drawings, paintings, sculptures, collages, performances, songs, and writings, not carpentry or real estate. To this end I have spent the last three days doing over 50 small drawings. They are pretty good. How will I show or sell them? I don't have a fucking clue.
 
   The thing is I didn't have a clue how i would get on that big buck, either. Did that stop me? No way. It drove me. Another thing my old man was fond of saying: "We all need challenges." I know this is why I became an artist, and later a hunter. You'd be hard pressed to find two more challenging vocations.
   Over Xmas my good friend Chuck showed me a book he was reading by a very successful, beautiful young Black woman on failure. The list of this woman's accomplishments was extensive and impressive. What the hell she knew about failure was beyond me. But then I realized that she was just smart enough to realize what a gift failure was.....especially when she couldn't fail to save her life. "We all want what we can't have." I'm fond of saying that. I wish i could look up at the weather vane, check the speed of the front coming in, consider the food source options, the timing of the rut, the falling temperatures and plan my day accordingly in order to deal with the so-called art world. But here there are no rules. You might as well ask your 8 BALL or google How do I get successful? "Concentrate and ask again." No rules you say? I'm there.

    Another calendar year is behind us. It was a good year mostly. Last night I learned my old friend Harold Bann died over the weekend. I had written about his failing health back during deer season. I know he read it and hoped it didn't bum him out too much. I wanted to cheer him up. Sometimes I'm not very good at that. I'd known Harold since 8th grade. He was a helluva good man- loads of fun, a partier, warm, barrel chested and full of life. He was part of what I consider my big extended family- a brother. There will be no more failures for H, only the mighty success of living a good life, raising great kids, and grandkids and living on in all our memories. Will any of us succeed this year? Who knows. Maybe failure is way better. Both the old man and I were fond of this saying: "Careful what you wish for." R.I.P. Hechekabann.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!