A Mild Case of Pedophilia


On Broadway in Albany, there’s this perfect spot for photos in front of our Capital Building. It’s down hill from the building, but the angle of the street is so perfect to frame a person and the building. The building sits so perfectly atop the hill it’s almost picturesque, as if maybe someone planned it. People seem infatuated with getting their photos right, when in reality you can’t take a bad photo. I love watching them pose in front of it or standing there trying to frame the angles of light, capturing space-time, before they lose the moment.

It’s the perfect spot for a photo or for other occurrences that are even more profound and life-altering. On this day, two women with four of their children framed their perfect photo. They shoved their children together in front of the Capital Building, until a nice fella walked up and asked if he could take a photo. Note: he didn’t say, “can I help?” He asked to take a photo. The women said ‘sure’ and even thanked the man, who then proceeded to snap photos of their kids… Anyway, the women stood horrified, watching as the man snapped a few photos of their kids and then politely thanked them. After that, he was gone… like a demon’s whisper. I held back laughter, as I also felt the more plausible disgust, so I went with that. The man walked out of sight, out of mind. People came up to the women and asked if that guy just did… what he did. It was all a memory by now, as the women gathered their children and walked off. They never did get their photo…

The Baby Pool of East Saharan Africa


Alas, our poor summer is reaching its end! Loathsome fall will have its day, but for the moment, the sun can play!

When the desperation of the summer months hits hardest, the animals flock to the watering holes, where they can socialize and relax without the fear of dehydration. It becomes a social ground, where the wild buffalo can ingratiate themselves with giraffes and boars. The wide array of diverse creatures bring their children to enjoy the weather. They frolic and make friends well into the summer months, before the inevitable comes and they’re forced back to school. When the months follow toward the end of summer is when you get the sense of impending danger. The chances of an attack become even more, as predators get desperate and plot their attacks, before Fall hits and covers their tracks.

The watering hole loses its luster. The animals notice the water dissipating with every passing day. They realize that the water is going, because so many have come together. Those that they’ve learned to appreciate they come to despise. It’s all about who’s to blame, instead of who could help. It does a number on the group, effectively destroying it in the name of instinct and survival.

With the group in tatters, it comes to the predators to weed out the weak. Predators circle around the perimeter of chain-link, being sure to keep an eye on the prey for which they would steal away from this place, while making their sight imperceptible. The point is not to know. No one can know; they all have to think they’re the next victim. It helps to ensure that the group never becomes one ever again. Fear has a way of making you into what it wants, if you let it. Everyone sees him, no matter how clever or deceptive he believes himself to be.

They know he’ll strike, but when he does it’s as unpredictable as lightning. When he fades off into the bushes, it’s like lightning fading into the clouds. Nobody realizes that he’s done it, until a young child has been taken. They all look around, wondering what evil has been perpetrated. Only one family has suffered this time. There’s nothing they can do about it. Loss is loss. The group comes together to honor their loss. They pay tribute, bringing what little they have of the harvest. They provide shelter and warmth. They keep this group together, because there’s so little comfort in this world.

As for the cycle, so it goes…

ShitHouse Scripture

Image result for bathroom graffiti artThe world is littered… polluted with untold beauty. Society is full of morose, psychotic… compassionate people. These are the people who hide… lurk within the crevices… in plain sight. The sociopath. It’s levels far below that of a man who kills thirty or forty people with a sniper rifle. Still, it’s a level of antisocial behavior that we’ve yet to comprehend. We see it. We write it off as another wacko and we go about our day. It’s there for our thorough examination, yet the more you sit and question the further down the rabbit hole you go. Understanding the mind of a person who does this… just wondering why can leave you drained. Why does someone… draw this? There is no reason. There is no statement. It just is. That’s all we know. The artist could’ve had some meaning behind his creation, but he never blessed us with the answers. It’s the same with life: God never gave anyone a manual. Our understanding comes to nothing.

I’ve come to the conclusion that art doesn’t belong in any gallery. It doesn’t belong in the Louvre or the Met. It belongs in the streets and, of course… in the public restrooms. You can’t confine it. Art isn’t about restrictions. Art is happening everywhere and at every moment… even when you’re dropping a deuce! Now, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, there is always the imminent threat of marauders overthrowing everything we’ve worked

to create and burning all that we deem beautiful. It’s happened before, like with the Image result for bathroom graffiti artburning of the great library in Alexandria. The works that weren’t destroyed were stolen, priceless artifacts lost to time all because someone really enjoyed Homer’s Lost Tales. It’s our natural impulse to steal what is beautiful; to want it for ourselves, but we have to learn to ignore this vulgar ideology. We have to appreciate art for what it is; an everyday struggle to see what is inherently beautiful in the mundane.

In such a world, art seems almost defenseless. It’s a matter of perception. How many textbooks have you opened to a girl with her mouth opened wide… and a dick just waiting by her ears? And did you know there’s graffiti on the pyramids? We haven’t been able to get through any ‘Age of Man’ without leaving our stamp, our pollution, leaving just a hint that we were here. Hagia Sophia, one of the greatest achievements of the Byzantine Empire was ‘tagged’ by some marauder whose name is still there… TO THIS DAY! Good for him… I mean… his artwork lasted longer than the empire!

Shopping for art is another big waste of time. Art is everywhere and you’ve wasted your money. You can be walking along and just out of some divine miracle be struck by creativity. You just find the nearest bathroom stall and ‘POOF’ there it is, nestled safely within the secure confines of a bathroom stall at my local library. I found something not quite as profound as the drawing at the top-left, but it still made me question the laws that regulate reality. What is sacred, when anyone in the world can draw… whatever this is (I think it’s a masterpiece) and leave it to rot on the walls of a room that people hope to flee from in a matter of minutes.

How could the Vincent Van Gogh of our time leave this masterpiece? Doesn’t he feel anything for his creation, or is it more sacred to leave your work for the world to enjoy. Is the artist forever doomed to let his creation go, as the bird with his broken wing is meant to fly away, even if you nurture it, this bird is born free and owes you nothing. Makin’ me think… Well, played… shithouse Vincent Van Gogh… well played.

My belief, this one took either many different trips to the shitter by the same artist, or a concession of many artists working in tandem. Shit after shit, hour by hour… they came to a masterpiece that they could forever be proud of, and God bless them for their sacrifice. Usually when I have a large enough poop that I have the time to draw such an intricate painting I have not the patience, but such is what separates the artist from the peasant. The drawing that has brought this masterpiece to my attention, was not in the same vein, but it was special nevertheless. It was a drawing in pen of the female body, but drawn with the clumsiness of a child who had yet to see one. He had a crude interpretation of what it was, this elusive female figure, making the breasts ‘ginormous’ and the rest of her thin enough that the girl would topple over if she was real. She had no feet, which made me feel bad, since she could never run away from this hell, but she had clown hands, which are hands that are much too massive for any decent human being. They seemed to be inflating by the minute, and I had a brief hope that the poor girl would explode. Luckily, when I came back to take a picture some horrible barbarian had painted over it.

The proof is within my warped mind… anyway, there was a deep incision where her legs joined together; it wasn’t where the vagina should be, but further up, perhaps around the section that should have been her belly button. It was the mighty eye of Ra, like the eye of an octopus… the vagina is a terrifying creature, as elusive as the mighty Kutulu beast. What was worse, the poor girl was made to smile through this entire endeavor, forever forced to watch adolescents poop and mock her deformities.

Construction deadlines are unreliable… I’ll need to speak to the foreman.

The restroom is the nexus where all art is made. The real geniuses are hiding out, pooping in dark alleys… they are the dark knights! Imagine a man who was forced to hold on to such negativity. Holding onto such a painful story, such powerful art could tear a man to pieces… even though it would depend on what he ate, or how much time he might have. His art might kill him in the end… better to have a place like the shitter to let it go. People need a place to just let things go; some people find an outlet in sex, or drugs, or respectable creativity, but who’s to say which is right? If a man can hold something sacred, something that keeps him from creating a terrible Kutulu monster and destroying the world, then that is the greatest gift to the world. He has found an outlet, his gift to the world is finding his niche, of making his way through life without being driven insane.

Tears

Image result for hoteiBack in high school, I forgot how I laughed. I remembered how to, but how I laughed… I couldn’t do it. I remember very clearly one day just realizing I wasn’t laughing the same. It hit me with such surprise. I remember thinking, ‘holy shit! This isn’t how I laugh’, but I had no way of figuring out my old laugh.

I don’t remember being too depressed at the time. I mean sure, I was depressed, because it was high school, but it was that simple ‘high school depression’. You just hate being there. You’re bored and that feels like depression. It gets worse the older you get, trust me. No, this was something more severe… perhaps dementia. Any answers, I will gladly consider.

I couldn’t bring it up to people at the time. It didn’t seem like a big deal. Now, looking back, I realized how fucked up it is… just losing this integral part of your personality. Your laugh and laughter can define you. People can acknowledge it over time, like ‘yes, I know he was there, because we all laughed at the same thing’… not anymore. I felt bland. I felt like I became lost in the crowd of other people’s laughter. I had to adapt. I assumed other people’s sounds and laughed as they did. Now, as I look back, I realize I never got the joke.

This was before the time when everything was on Youtube… I have no way of finding out how it sounded. I could ask people, but if they showed me it just wouldn’t sound the same. I had to adapt. For a while, I didn’t laugh. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried not laughing, especially when it’s all you want to do, but it actually hurts. You physically and spiritually feel pain. I felt a pain in my stomach from holding in laughter and this necessary expression of joy rotted inside me. That wouldn’t work, so I decided to steal other people’s laughs. I mimicked a good laugh and stuck with it. I have it to this day, but it’s not the same.

I’m not sure what to do? How do I get fixed? Have I gone insane? Somebody help? Has this ever happened to any of you?

I’ve assumed to this point that I have an acute form of dementia. How such a vital bit of information could be lost is beyond me. I don’t think it happened over the span of a day. Just… one day… I forgot. Help out. I provided a picture of Hotei, a happy, fat bastard who always laughs, because it would seem right that the struggle to be happy like him means figuring out how to laugh. I lost part of myself. Part of the struggle is finding it. I wonder if Hotei ever had to mimic other people’s laughter. Imagine blending into a crowd because you’re not sure how you need to sound. Hotei can’t blend in… he’s too fat and happy. When you blend in you forget yourself. Somewhere along the line I forgot myself.

Relay for Life

Image result for relay for lifeRelay For Life is a community based fundraising event of the American Cancer Society. Events are held in local communities, including an event in Renssealer County! As the American Cancer Society’s most successful fundraiser and the organization’s signature event, the mission of Relay For Life is to raise funds to improve cancer survival, decrease the incidence of cancer, and improve the quality of life for cancer patients and their caretakers. The 12 hour event Celebrates cancer survivors, Remembers loved ones lost to cancer, and encourages everyone to Fight Back against the disease.

A Relay For Life event is organized under a volunteer Relay Committee, and implemented by volunteers. It is often organized as a multi-day public gathering, spanning all day and night in a large outdoor space, and many people bring tents and camp out around the walking tracks. Currently, almost 4 million people take part in Relay events in over 5,000 communities in the United States.

This year’s Rensselaer County event is September 24th from 12PM to 12AM at the Joe Bruno Stadium in Troy. Registration is free so we encourage everyone to come and experience the power of Relay and see the impact it has on so many lives. This year’s event is Football themed and we will be hosting a Chili cook-off featuring local restaurants!

If you are unable to attend the event, there are many ways to get involved – from volunteering for a few hours, to buying a track sign or luminaria bag. Our event brings in 200+ people from the Rensselaer Community for a 12 hour event – that’s a lot of impressions for businesses interested in advertising to the Rensselaer community!

I hope you and your team will join us at Relay For Life of Rensselaer. If you have any questions please email chelseyhochmuth@gmail.com or call 518-466-8820. More information can be found on our website. www.relayforlife.org/rensselaerny