John's Big Head Eccentric Outsider Art Blog

Why Does the Outsider Artist Have No Face

Musing on Morphine
by John D'Agostino, Eccentric Outsider Artist, aka John Dog
Hostipal Bed, USA

I woke up today around 7:30 am.  First time that I slept through the morning call to prayer in a long time.  I wouldn't be missed at the cami, the reason being that I never go being the good atheist that I am.  It's quarter to nine and I've had my breakfast of beans, eggs, and toast.  I washed this back with a mug of Russian coffee with a bit of hazelnut cream in it.  I did what I had to in the bathroom. Squeezed the pimple that appeared on my nose over night then stood on the balcony to see who has up and about this bright Manavgat morning.

Two things have been running through my head in the last 24 hours plaguing my waking hours and my sleep.  The first being, what would I sing at karaoke tonight and the second of no less importance have been ponderings about the recent wave of bombings in Turkey.  But, before I go to karaoke tonight I ought to finish the sculpture that I am working on.  It's a little piece, the figure of a man made from found objects; a block of wood, pieces of a worn out mop handle, an old paint brush, a  bolt, and a few other bits of this and that.  It's painted red, white, and blue.  The bolt protrudes disproportionately large from the lower torso and is painted purple, something resembling a whopper of a throbbing erection. I need to find a small cylinder to add to the sculpture.  I'll paint it to look like an oil drum.  Someplace on the base of the piece I'll scribble the title, "Bush got a Purple Knob".

Mick Jaeger asks three questions in his song, "Sister Morphine". One is, "How long have I been lying here?", then "What am I doing in this place?" and the other, "Why does the doctor have no face?"  I've been practicing the words to this song although it is not on the karaoke playlist.  They have "Honky Tonk Woman", maybe I'll do that.

I think of "the scream of the ambulance sounding in my ears."  I think of the bombings this week and one that happened about two months ago in the town where I live.  I was there at the waterfall and saw it, out for a small Sunday picnic with an international assortment of friends. I saw the explosion.  I saw the blood.  I saw a child laid out on the concrete.  There was a large woman in white.  She lay there not moving as someone beat on her chest, gave her mouth to mouth, and her dress just became more and more red.  I felt sick to my stomach, others did too. Luckily we were across the narrow river and none of us where hurt. There would be no bar-b-que today.  I was driving so I made the decision to pack it in and head home.  We all got pretty drunk that night.  It was no gas canister as reported by the press.

Although, I am an atheist, I am no nihilist.  I have Buddhist tendencies and am warm to the lovey-dovey aspects of Christianity. "Why does the doctor have no face?", "How long have I been lying here?" I wonder which of these is the more important question.  The first question confronts issues of reality and illusion. The second is temporal and physical, it searches for information on a present state of being in time and space.  There was no gas canister, there were no weapons of mass destruction, the Chinese will soon take over the world. The press, television perpetuates the hallucinations that the powers at be desire us to believe.  "Well, it just goes to show that things are not what they seem."

Religion, nationalism, political idealism has not brought peace even in this modern "enlightened" world.  Maybe one should give nihilism a closer examination. Ethical nihilism, the rejection of customary beliefs, morality, and religion, if practiced could take fuel from the fires of those inciting terrorism be it, fanaticalism, nationalistic, or the "state terrorism" of the west and Israel.  Of course I am not advocating political nihilism in the sense that some in Russian expounded in 1860. Revolutionary reform such as this promoted terrorism and destruction of all social, political, and economic institutions.  In the end we meet the new boss and he's same as the old boss.

I am lucky or unlucky to be from that generation of Americans that have learned to "duck and cover".  The "big one" could have fallen anytime and we practiced these survival techniques.  In Turkey we practiced the same thing in the Istanbul school where I taught for five years.  The big one was not the A-bomb though, but an earthquake we hoped to survive if it hit near the heart of the city.  I feel at home in Turkey maybe because we share the same sense of fatalism. It is pointless to live in fear.  Generally, when death occurs, when sh*t happens, we mourn and move on.  The family still needs to be fed and our bellies filled.  People still live were earthquakes strike. Hey, "What am I doing hear?" 

Fatalism and the passivity that it spawns has it's flaws. It disempowers the individual from the little strength each of us common folk have.  It weakens our resolve to try to effect change in a world which has long been a ball of confusion.  And things ain't got any better since the words to that song were written either. So what's a poor boy (or girl) to do?  This is a question all must ask, no matter what political, social, or economic clan you belong to, religion you practice, or country you reside in.

There is only one answer.  All with any sense of reason knows the answer- promote peace.  Vote the war mongers out of office, follow religious and political leaders who are moderate in their views and who work towards change without the killing, refuse to support violence as a solution.  Do we really want to live in a world where terrorism and pre-emptive attacks are common place, as they are today. 

If you and I do not take this task to heart and try to do what we can promote peace, mutual respect, and work towards a just global society that mutually benefits all it's members, there is little chance to live in a world without fear. Guns and bombs kill people, but fear kills our soul.

Consequentially, although we may survive a bombing across the river, across an ocean, or across a continent, (I'll be taking some liberties with Jaeger's lyrics here), "You know and I know that in the morning we'll be dead."

2006 Eccentric Outsider Artist News

Here is a bit from my new web site yenigozler - new eyes. See the new paintings from the eccentric outsider artist John DAgostino

I have new eyes. I can see clearly now and believe this is the most significant work that I have produced in a long time. Eight years ago at the age of 40 I was told that I was developing cataracts. My eyes were getting worse and worse, but every time I went to the doctor he or she said, "They weren't ready yet."  I moved from Miami to Istanbul, taught art in a private primary school there, and painted. After 5 years teaching I left my job and devoted myself to my art full time.  Don't forget my old eccentric outsider artist web site www.outsider-artist.info

This past Fall I took a break from painting and stumbled around Ecuador half blind. I started to worry that it might be a more severe problem.  As a visually oriented person it is extremely dis-orienting not to be able to see well. When I came back to Turkey the doctor said, "It was only cataracts and they are ready." I had the operations and can now see better than I could since childhood.  It is difficult to explain as an artist what it means to have vision, to be able to see clearly.  But look into my eyes, look deep into my eyes and you will see a bit through them. I just had an art show at an Istanbul restaurant and gallery - Sade Kahve.  The photos are on the yenigozler site.

My friend is doing legal and business English consulting in Istanbul. Check out her web site.

Eccentric Outsider Artist Hits the Beach

Moon Doggin´
by The John Dog, John DAgostino, Eccentric Outsider Artist

John Dog be hangin´in Montanita in Ecuador.  Been traveling around the world taking pictures to maybe make sum outsider art or get sum inspiration for sum stories, but been raining here for two days.  I can here the rain pounding now after a morning of watching the surfer dudes and dudettes.  This be the place to surf in Ecuador.  There be the friendliest dogs here too.  They got dogs all over the place.  I feel right at home.  There be a few artists too. They aren´t as eccentric as me be, but they got dreads.   Gotta love this place.  Bottles of rum are  three and a half bucks.  Tasty meals of shrimp and other seafood is just as cheap.  That is a good recipe for a good time for the eccentric outsider artist know as the John Dog.

Being that there are a lot of dogs here there is plenty of opportunity to spread the shit cause the dog shit is all over the beach.  If you don´t know about spreading the shit, then you need to go to The Only True God website.  Well I will have to write more later cause it´s liquid lunch time, and I don´t mean soup.  Massively huge beers are a dollar.  Hasta Luego

Wilma and Me Part 1 and 2

Dirty old outsider artist Tripping in the Americas
by John Dog a.k.a. John DAgostino, Eccentric Outsider Art Maker 

Part One - I was IN SIDE now I am way outside. I left Side Turkey on the 15th of October and made that 14 hour bus trip to Istanbul, like I done so many times before. That's why I'm standing here knocking on your front door. I had the keys, but after three break-ins by an old employee, they changed the locks at the pad where I was crashing. I arrived at 11 am as planned. Found a matress on the floor and stretched out my long body along its full lenght. Damn knees are sore from being cramped on that friggin' bus so many hours.

The first night in Istanbul was awesome. I am staying with my friend Aziza, a lawyer from NYC, an ex-pat, like nyself. Aziza is certifiable. If it wasn't for all the meds she is on then she'd be bouncing off some rubber walls in some looney bin. We drank a bottle of vodka and talked all night. Ordered the most excellent Indian food around 2 am - spicy curry chicken and lamb with all sorts of hot and tangy side dishes. Somewhere we found some wine and washed down our meal with that. No pussy that night. Went to sleep in seperate rooms as the Imam was beginning the morning call to prayer.

I can't remember if it was Monday or Tuesdays that we went to Uskadar to some Turkish friend's house for dinner. It was great to see my buddies Nesrin and Erkan. Nes had no problem wiping up some healthy vegetable dishes from the Turkish Kitchen cooking book stored in her head. I laugh when I read news stories about letting those strange Muslims into the EU. These are normal people. Erkan is a top financial manager in a large company. He has a pony tail, eclectic tastes in music (he burned us copies of some Spanish Caribbean hip-hop), and a thity-something middle class desk job belly. He smokes more than he drinks. We were drinking Chivas and toking on Backwoods cigars - vices from each end of the economic spectrum.

After dinner the party got more crowded and I found myself on the couch with some fine young pussys. I got pictures to prove it, as soon as my friend e-mails them to we. Young girls go crazy for eccentric outsider artists.  It was pretty kinky. I love open minded females who don't think three is a crowd. Aziza, Erkan, and Nes were spending lots of time in the kitchen doing god knows what. I was happy for the time alone with my new babes. I won't bore you with all the details.

The rest of the week continued in a similar vein- good food, cheap booze, and beautiful women. Got in a bit of bowling before I took off for Miami and the second leg of my trip. Wilma was supposed to meet me here Saturday, but it is Sunday an I'm still waiting. Part two will tell the rest of this tale. Think I'll pop me a can of Guinness and have breakfast. It's an eccentric outsider artist jet lag living in two different time zones meal thing - bagels and beer, gotta love it, Miami in the morning.

Part Two - Well, of course the CIA had played some games and when I got to Miami, I was on the list.  They let me through after answering many weird questions, like, Why are you sweating so much?  (duh, its 90 degrees with 90 % humidity) What were you doing in Bulgaria? He didn't care about the answers, he fired off the questions faster than I could answer and didn't wait for a response.  They let me throught but I know I am being followed.

More CIA fun and games.  I got to the car rental place and found that my license was suspended.  Before I left the US, I had no points, no accidents, no violations. So how does my license get suspended when i am not driving for 20 months?  More CIA shit to try to get my foot out of.  Without transportation I was limited in my movement and wound up in North Miami in a place that looked like it got hit by a hurricane.  But that wouldn't actually happen for 2 more days.

Wilma finally came after a week of foreplay in Mexico.  They Spanish fly itched her hole wide open and she came in torrents.  It was a very moist wet event to use the expression of one weathered weather man.  Wilma did a few quickies on the Florida Keys, Miami-Dade and Broward counties.  She got off and left.  Wilma was such a costly whore. She was a category 3 bitch that left many with no energy and a dry taste in their mouths.  Southern Florida was spent, recoverery from this screw would take some time and many banana and rum coctails. 

I was scheduled to leave on the 26th at 8am.  Got to the airport a 5 and waited for the plane to Guayaquil which the airline (COPA) swore was not cancelled.  At 9:30 I decided to find me another flight and I booked with American for a 7 pm flight.  After a nap stretched out on the cold carpet in corridor 'C' I awoke at 11 and headed for the bar.  Many beers and double tequila shots waited there for this stranded eccentric outsider artist. I made my flight that got me to Ecuador at 11 pm Miami time.  It was a fucking long day.  I stunk like a street bum, but I had no problems at customs - American, American, welcome, welcome, thank you for bringing us mas mucho dolars  dinero bueno

Part Three will hit the wordpress after my head clears more from all the rum I drank last night.

Outsider Artist Strokes It

The Outsider Artist Brush Stroke by John DAgostino, Eccentric Outsider Artist Inspired by the teachings of Robert Henri The mere matter of putting on paint to any choosen surface by the eccentric outsider artist can be mysterious The power of John D'Agostino's eccentric outsider brush stroke is the power of a spirit deep within the artist's psyche. In his paintings there is a certain kind of outsider artist brush stroke that is both bold and bad.  There are timid, halting brush strokes by some outsider artists with certain mental afflictions, but not the John Dog.	Yum
I have a dirty old outsider artist dog.	Somehow the John Dog's brush strokes always start bravely and know where to go. Sometimes they bump into and spoil something else, (get over it, *** happens) or they may just wander about, or meld into another image.  There are multi-colored brush strokes in the background which come up against weird heart-like heads and turn to get out of the way circling round and round in a maddening spin.
Thick or squirted marks which look like brush strokes and bring us back to paint.  There are other lines and shapes which inspire a sense of vigor, direction, speed, fullness and all the varying sensations an eccentric outsider artist may wish to unconsciously express. Simple symbols and worn out cliches are twisted into sometimes layered compositions.  The eccentric's brush stroke itself must speak a language that might not be comprehensible to all..  It doesn't count to the outsider artist whether you will or not understand it.
	John Dog's work is meaningful or it is empty rhetoric. It often seems to make no sense, is contradictory, the product of a confused and unfocused mind. And these are the qualities which keep him on the outside of the art world. But the canvas and it tells it tale.  His art and his writing can be showy, shallow, mean, poignant, humorous, adolescent, rich, full, generous, and alive.  Maybe he knows what is going on, but he hides it well. In analizing the structure of his art and writing a complex mind scape is revealed.
When the outsider artist's mark  is visible on the canvas it has a size, covers a certain area, a texture.  They are very expressive in their own way. It has its speed and its direction.  There is a lot it has of itself, and the strokes tell their tale in harmony with or in opposition of motive of the the eccentric art picture.
	On account of the shiny character of oil paint it is necessary to adhere to a general movement in brush direction to avoid a stroke which will shine. This is one of the reasons the John Dog uses acrylic paint, often with a matte finish. If the John Dog arbitarily paints an outsider art piece on glass he uses a wide variety of paints for their effect;  poster for dry cracking, glossy enamel for a gooey shine, semi-matte acrylics for heavy texture. Even though the picture hangs in its proper light reflections are unavoidable and this makes them difficult to photograph.  So the images on his eccentric outsider art websites may have distortions.

Big Wow to Eccentric Outsider Artist, John Dog

What would John Dog do?
by John DAgostino, Eccentric outsider Artist, a.k.a. The John Dog

I get obsessive sometimes about my web sites.  I always want to keep them interesting.  Put new things on them, add pictures, and links. I check my stats not too frequently to see if people are visiting them.  I also check my page ranking for some of my key words, outsider artist, eccentric art, etc.. John Dog is one of my key words and one day I was checking yahoo search and found  "What would John Dog do?" posted on Molly Goatwax's Blog. Mrs. Molly Goatwax is an artist, poet, and  pub owner of Molly's Public House in Baltimore.  Here is the item below.

July 13, 2005
What would John Dog do?
I have been invited by the education co-ordinator at the musuem to conduct a hands-on seminar in small collage for twenty people at a (winter) Holiday event. I have mixed feelings about this, because while it is an honor and a chance for "face time", there is no stipend and the offer has been extended to several artists in an effort to provide hands-on activities for the fund raising event. If my seminar is well recieved, it may lead to a more featured, paid attraction. It looks as if there might actually be some considerable outlay for materials. I've got a few days to think about it.

I had no idea why Molly used the name John Dog. I thought maybe it was a "Baltimore" expression, slang term for genius or something.  Before I became a full time eccentric outsider artist I had many jobs in the real world.  One of these jobs was as an education coordinator for a museum in Miami.  I did this for 7 years. Time to make the Twilight Zone - do - do -do - do -do - do noise.  Here she is sending out a question in cyber space to the John Dog - little did she know that she would soon get a reply from a John Dog with 7 years experience in museum education programming.  Pretty much I told her that normally museums have budgets for these things so they can pay visiting artist or lecturers. I didn't post my reply on the blog but e-mailed it to her.  I thought maybe I would get an e-mail back saying, thanks blah, blah, blah. But I never got one and forgot about it.

Just the other day I was doing a John Dog search and checking my results and found another blog entry by Mrs. Goatwax.  Here is the post below.

July 19, 2005
Big Wow
My post the other day about the quandry with doing a workshop at the museum was titled "What would John Dog do?", because when I fed the term "eccentric artist" into the search engine, there he was. I have never met nor communicated with Mr. DAgostino, aka John Dog so you can imagine how absolutely floored I was to find an e-mail from him in my in-box this morning. And rather than take umbrage with me for having invoked his name in vain, he gave me some good advice! I quote his missive, in summary: "John Dog says Do It on the condition that the education director (maybe with your help) creates a program and a budget for future workshops. I'm sure your artist friends will appreciate being included if they are justly compensated. It is a win-win situation for the museum, the artists, and the public." And, in viewing some of the links and threads from the sites that I went back and actually looked at (rather than just pluck his name from the search), I find a philosophy from which much more can be learned...besides that, he seems like a nice guy. Thank you, Mr. Dog

Thank you Molly.  When I am in that wonderfully funky city of Baltimore I'll have to stop in for a cold one.  Also thanks for introducing me to Beer Church (a link I saw on your site).  Although I am already a self-ordained minister in The Church of The Only True God becoming an official credentials as a minister in Beer Church would be pretty cool.

NEW GROUP by Rev. John Dog, Eccentric Outsider Artist

The Church of the Only True God was created by the self-ordained minister, The Rev. John Dog one night on the way to a concert in Istanbul. Like many of those chosen to serve the Lord the calling came unexpectedly. Walking along the sidewalk to the Blues Festival John dodged many mounds of dog feces lying everywhere. A momentary lack of attention brought his foot down in a pile. Later that night while home sleeping in bed an angel appeared and revealed the secret of this sign. God is omni-present as the dog droppings are omni-present, the bright light of this truth shone forth and awakened me. The next morning the Rev. John Dog quit his job and began spreading the word about the greatness of The Super Holy IT or S.H.IT for short. Join the group and and get the password to the site. Visit the Rev. John Dog's other sites and see Eccentric outsider art and writing inspired by the power of The Super Holy IT.

Where's the Eccentric Outsider Art Beef

Dog Meat Sausage Outsider Artist Gets Bang Out of Dog Meat Bratworst

By John DAgostino, Press Associated Writer

Sunday Sept 11 15, 5:56 PM ET

JOHNSBIGHEAD, NJ. - John's Big Head Dog Meat Sausage and Outsider Art Co. President and Eccentric Outsider Artist, The John Dog gets a real bang out of making dog meat bratworst a hot seller.

Last week, following an eccentric tradition, he lit a firecracker in his secretary's bum to celebrate a change to its "Meaty Serve" precooked dog meat sausage that made it taste almost as good as a fresh-grilled spoiled brat.

"I've gone through quite a few secretaries," said Eccentric Outsider Artist, The John Dog, 48. "We celebrate innovation here in very weird ways."

And despite the barrage of diets and an ingredient list that shows three-quarters of a brat's calories come from added pig's fat, John's Big Head Dog Meat Sausage and Outsider Art Co. has continued to grow. Last year, sales rocketed 500% percent.

"I think with all the world's problems and fears of terrorism, people are really frustrated and they're throwing up their arms and saying, 'What the fuck, you only live once, let's just go for a delicious dog meat bratworst,'" said Maria Worut, an associate professor of nutrition at the Bi-Product Institute of America.

John's Big Head Dog Meat Sausage and Outsider Art Co. still remains privately owned, after the Eccentric Outsider Artist, The John Dog family in 1903 bought back the 25 percent stake it sold in 1864 to Sarah Bee, owner of the Farmshire Hills and Dimmy Jean sausage brands.

Hoped-for synergies in deviance did not pan out, but the two remained "friendly swingers" throughout, the Grinch said. Eccentric Outsider Artist, The John Dog said the family remained too involved. "It's not an emotional thing, it's purely a sexual thing," he said. "We grew up in the porn-dog business and we just didn't want to part with our secret family fetishes."

Through its growth at home and abroad, what hasn't changed about the company is the original brat's secret spice formula — still known only by Eccentric Outsider Artist, The John Dog and his father. Two Asian vendors each produce half of the mix and it's combined in a bathtub hidden in their basement.

But Eccentric Outsider Artist, The John Dog realized that constant innovation pays off, like the Meaty Serve Dog Meat Brat, which took 40 years of bribes to health official to allow its sale in the U.S.

Eccentric Outsider Artist, The John Dog said he is focused on turning the company into a international brand and is eyeing several new global markets to move into, like China. "We want to be the Coca-Cola of dog meat sausage. It's our vision, our destiny, our god-given right. And it should happen in my lifetime," Eccentric Outsider Artist, The John Dog said. "The good news is greed runs in the family, and a hell of a lot of Chinese love dog meat."

Apologies to RYAN NAKASHIMA, Associated Press Writer, for dropping an A-Bomb on his original story.

I'm so happy

My New Job
by John DAgostino, Eccentric Outsider Artist, a.k.a. John Dog

I defrosted the refrigerator. Found some interesting things in there while cleaning. I discovered month old chicken burgers. They still look edible. A container of curry yogurt dip from the time of Mahatma Gandhi was rock hard and inedible. The last time Gandhi was around wasn't as long ago as you might think, maybe last April or May. I met him in a club in Gary, Indiana. He was working as a cocktail waitress in a topless joint. Nice hooters. I took him/her home and we got into a huge literary debate over whether the karma sutra or Bible was a better read. We never worked it out, so we screwed about 6 or 7 different ways while she read tales of Sodom and Gomorra out loud.

A half bottle of Smirnoff 50 proof was packed solidly into the ice block also known as my freezer. That enchanting intoxicant would have been finished ages ago, if I could have got at it. The bottle was the major reason for defrosting the damn thing. Defrosting released that glorious prisoner from captivity. Gandhi and I drank it with some kiwi juice and I tossed the yogurt dip. I made some burgers with the grey ground meat that finally thawed. Ms. Gandhi had two with pickles and mayonnaise. People change with time. I've changed. No more writing t.v. scripts for me. In this life I am a serious writer. I'm writing a novel. And if you are reading this then I must be getting pretty good at it. Where am I now? -Istanbul, a long way from Gary. How I got here is a long story that involves the CIA, KGB, and Kabul opium smugglers. I'd tell you about it but then I'd have to kill you.

Hunter S. Thompson shot himself in the head last month. He was cremated and then they shot his ashes out of a huge cannon taller than the Statue of Liberty. The size of the cannon, that being taller than that humongous green whore from France who greets the tired and the hungry as they enter the waters off New Jersey, was stipulated in his will. I'm not making this up. That's exactly what he said. I was there. He asked me how to spell 'liberty'. We were high on mesc and drinking tequila that night. There were pink and turquoise florescence stars dancing around a silvery Colorado moon as he penned those essential words in his last will and testament. He once said to me, "John Dog, you know, sex, drugs, and insanity have always worked for me, but I wouldn't recommend them for everyone." I wonder what he'll come back as in his next life.

Excuse me for getting sentimental. I always get a little misty eyed when I'm on my second bottle of two dollar wine and thinking about old friends. That reminds me, suicide. I have to sober up and finish the painting of the China man hanging himself. And another thing I have to do is to buy a bigger ash tray. We all kill ourselves one way or another.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep. I'm not taking the easy way out, even though I am thoroughly disillusioned with life. I just found out Robert Frost wrote those lines and not Charles Bronson. I'm so mad about it that I really want to blow something up. I'll get over it.

A picture of lazy Pedro sleeps on my Mexican hat shaped ash tray which I bought at South of the Border the largest and tackiest tourist trap on I-95 in sunny South Carolina. In my next life I want to work at the t-shirt shop there, the one with the 100 foot fiberglass gorilla standing guard out front. I could get high all day, eat burritos at lunch, and spike my Mountain Dew with vodka and no one would even notice. No one would care. If you are making minimum wage in the US, it is like you don't exist, a kind of death in a way.

Life as an eccentric dirty old outsider artist and writer ain't as easy as you might imagine. Of course you can make your own hours, but it don't pay shit. There's something to be said about a steady paycheck coming in. The dividends from my Halliburton stocks don't pay enough to live on. Damn, I should have bought more shares and not blown all that loot at the dog track. I'd be sitting pretty right now drinking dry martinis with Cheney and smoking a big stogy.

Where was I? -  Just got back from the crapper. Had to drop a few turds. Gonna drop a few more. Life is hard. It kills you in the end, doesn't it? My Turkish friend Ali reminds me of that fact every time I see him. He's the biggest drunken mother fucker that I've ever seen. No, he ain't a massive hunk of Anatolian meat; he's a skinny little guy it a polyester shirt with some weird ass design on it. What I mean to say is that he sucks down two bottles of 40 proof Raki a day. He's a big drinker. He pilots a tour boat up and down the Manavgat River. I generally see him late at night trying not to fall off his bar stool and steering a glass towards the safe harbor of his mouth. I wish I had a dime for every time he told me, Life is zor (hard in Turkish). I tell him fuck, you're only 25, you don't even know the meaning of the word. We drink together for hours sometimes, we argue, he gets really pissed. But lucky for me he's usually so plastered that he can barely lift his drink let alone a fist in anger. Gandhi would be proud of his restraint.

I come from a big Italian family. We were pretty poor when I was growing up. Not like poor in India or Africa. There were few flies, no skin and bones, no stink of death in the air.  But it wasn't until 14 that I learned how poor my family really was. Dad got a bonus at Christmas and we had a feast. This was the first time mom ever made Hamburger Helper and actually put hamburger in it. I was so in the dark about things in those days. Grey meat brings back fond memories of youthful ignorance. It's all relative. In American if you don't have a McMansion with a two car garage and a triple digit income, you are poor. Or at least made to feel that way by a constant bombardment of advertisements and portrayals of fantasy life styles of yuppies, buppies, fruppies, and sluppies on television. Don't ask me what the last two mean. I just made them up because I like to rhyme in fours.

I'm really beginning to doubt my sanity. I think that I am going off the deep end. I haven't worked for over two years. I live in a beautiful beach town on the Med in southern Turkey and I'm thinking about going back to America and getting a real job. I got money in the bank. I'm sitting here in the process of getting stoned with a grin on my face that makes the Cheshire Cat's look damn tame. I must be going looney tunes.

People have offered me jobs here. I almost took one selling sexy undies, thongs, and the like to the tourist crowd that passes through my town. It didn't pay much, but the fringe benefits, oooh la la. Nobody I know likes their job, well almost nobody. Luckily there are support groups to help. There are meetings every evening down at the local pub.  They are called Happy Hour.  I too have been using alcohol, but only to try to temper my mad desire for real honest labor. It's been working rather well, but I must be building up an immunity. Why do these insane urges for employment keep taunting me? Maybe I need a prescription for thorazine.

I applied for a job promoting "cutting edge" artists in Florida. Art is my field. I can't sell my own crappy art but I can talk a good line and thought I could be good at promoting others. About half way through the interview I decided that I really didn't want the job. So I told them that I thought "cutting edge" was a lot of bull shit hype. Striving to be avant garde as an artist is a Proctor and Gamble approach to aesthetics. Everything is better if it's NEW and IMPROVED.   The problem with that is you are only good until the next new kid in town arrives. Fame is fleeting like the polish on a shiny new Ford Explorer. It's all marketing the American way. Another product designed to last just before the three year warrantee lapses.

Who the hell is Franklin P. Jones? Nobody knows for sure. (I'm just full of questions, aren't I?)  Rumors are that he was a furniture salesman from Oklahoma who lived in the last half of the 19th century and died in the first half of the 20th. Where he comes from matters little or maybe it matters a lot. I don't know, but he passed on some excellent advice and two half dozen or a dozen quotes on life, love, and work which make him immortal. In my dilemma concerning employment I believe I will take his wise words to heart. He said something very simple, but oh so meaningful and true. He said, "Scratch a dog, and you'll find a permanent job." Where do I sign up?

August Posts

Dear Readers,

September and October could be slow months for posting.  Who knows, sometimes I get inspired.  But I have some other projects in the works that I need to attend to. Hope you have enjoyed August posts on my great new outsider artist blog  – notes of a dirty old outsider artist,  which is based on the title of Charles Bukowski's book – notes of a dirty old man, so is the design of the site. I wrote some brief descriptions of all my August blogs. 

Click on a link in the description to go to an August blog page

Here are a list of August posts on the blog

Blogs Inspired by the Buk

Go Easy on the Beaver – Chapter One of a wild ride thru the mind of the John Dog, an awesome eccentric outsider artist. Buk enters my brain and things get insane.  Please, tell him to stop it.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_811.html – Aug 11

Mo' Ramblin' – The party and it is outrageous, outsider artist John Dog, the Dude, the Buk, and some Russian girls get sloppy drunk and have an orgy.  Find out what going on in the closet.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_812.html – Aug 12

Cleanliness Is next to... – How does he do it? I don't know. Besides being a consistently good outsider artist the John Dog is a high powered chick magnet.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_813.html – Aug 13

Thrown for A Loop – There he goes again that crazy eccentric outsider artist is always getting into trouble with the women. Will the John Dog ever learn?

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_814.html – Aug 14

Bowling and Balling – Big Ern enters into my world and hell breaks loose.  Get the bare facts about bare naked ladies from the most creative outsider artist, John Dog

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_820.html – Aug 20

Jesus Cops an Attitude – Nobody fucks wid da Jesus, as that wild outsider artist John Dog and the rest of the gang found out. Chapter 6 of Bukish blogging.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_821.html – Aug 21

Bear Epilogue – A wonderful ending to a story from a wonderful outsider artist who tells how two bad guys get it in the end. 

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_829.html  - Aug. 29

Blogs Inspired by God and Satan

Sharing the Wealth – Generous outsider artist makes great art and shares the wealth.  Lovely ladies from around the world.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_831.html – Aug 31

95 degrees in the shade – blissful outsider artist reaches nirvana

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_830.html - Aug 30

Deception Point – When he is not making great outsider art, John Dog is doing book reviews and plugging his brother's super blog 1, super blog 2, super blog 3, super blog 4  

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_828.html – Aug 28

Tell Me Lies – The best dirty old outsider artist in the world brings you fibs and fables from the internet. http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_827.html – Aug 27

Trying to Be Good – John Dog likes to cuss, but today this exciting outsider artist ain't gonna cuss – I swear it.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_826.html – Aug 26

In and Out of It – Soon to be famous outsider artist , buy my work now, tells a story of a very strange day in the life of an eccentric outsider art maker.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_824.html – Aug 24

Titties and Beer – How do you fight a demon or devil that has crawled up your ass and is vexing your soul.  The ever curious eccentric outsider artist John Dog explores the subject. http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_823.html – Aug 23

Cheap Flights to Amsterdam – Welcome to the Hotel Amsterdam, you can check out any time you like but you can never leave as this eccentric outsider artist found out.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_822.html – Aug 22

The Blues Is Killing Me – The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly sides of life as told by that outsider artist who everyone loves to hate, John Dog. I'm fighting back, damn it.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_819.html – Aug 19

Where Is My Hat – Massively popular eccentric outsider artist John Dog tells tales of how every time he meets a big celebrity he some how looses his hat – very weird

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_818.html – Aug 18

Disco Fever – Have you ever had cheap nasty zombie sex? Learn all about the latest fetish craze from
the almighty and powerful eccentric outsider artist, John Dog

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_817.html – Aug 17

Tripe – Is not meaningless crap.  It makes a damn good bowl of soup. The John Dog knows good soup and good art because he is
a great eccentric outsider artist.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_816.html – Aug 16

Ready For the Gulag – The terrific outsider artist John Dog  draws the attention of the CIA. Bush finally figured out where Saddam hid his weapons of mass destruction – CHINA.  John Dog exposes the lies of the Bush administration and more.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_815.html – Aug 15

FYI – Adult Content Advisory – My first nasty sci-fi story.  Men watch out.  The future brings with it  the horrors of wanton women out to kidnap your sperm by any means possible. 

The best eccentric outsider artist, the John Dog says beware.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_810.html – Aug 10

It's Not True – A CIA conspiracy against eccentric outsider artist John Dog is blown.  And they thought that I wouldn't find out.  Don't believe a word of it. Bush sucks.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_809.html – Aug 09

Love Stinks – John Dog is a romantic eccentric outsider artist and his heart has been stomped on too many times.  He bares all with this story. Share his pain. Share his anger.

http://www.notes.outsider-artist.info/notes_outsider_artist_806.html – Aug 06