Sin and confession

Autobiographical

As many of you may know, I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church, an organisation that thinks sperm is sacred and their clergymen are not allowed to marry. We also have this sacrament called confession where we have to tell the priest our shit, like stealing our dad’s booze and looking at porno mags. This could also include behaviour like masturbation and things like having sex and enjoying yourself and or not going to church. Did I mention telling lies, smoking cigarettes and playing cards? Well they could be added in as well. In return the priest would give us a reward of lets say ten Hail Mary’s, six Glory Bee’s and a bunch of Our Fathers. It all depended on what you had ‘fessed up to. Perhaps it would depend on how the priest was feeling, I don’t know.

Many years ago I had been caught dancing with myself and my Mum in her religious fervour sent me off to see the priest. He was a dirty looking scare crow of a man and there was a bottle of Glenfiddich clearly visible on his counter top. I guess somebody thought it would loosen my tongue and provide a good confession. It certainly did, I like Whisky and I span him a whole bunch of lies instead, the joke was I did not care for religion by this time and sneezed at the idea and concept of confession. However I was living at home and my youngish mind, thought it a good idea to comply. Well to cut a story short I span him a load of stuff that would make a Madame blush, I swear the old pervert had a lip trembler going, he stank of booze and his blood shot eyes were horrid, as were his shaking hands. I think Half of that bottle disappeared in the couple of hours I was there, it was near Christmas and was piss cold outside. I have forgotten the penance he gave me, though I do remember not doing any of it.

If I was not sceptical of priests and religion before that point, I was afterwards and still am. More on that later on. I have recently been inspired to dig out some old artwork and share it again, I don’t think I have mentioned getting rid of a load of work a few weeks ago.

I am quite pleased with myself this evening, I have managed to leave the alcohol alone, despite their being a bottle of cider in the fridge. My cart Ninjas had the Scabies/Mange and is recovering well. He has been depressed and does not like being bathed and covered in ointment. Mr. Fox on the other hand, has been noticeable by his absence. I hope he comes home very soon. I love him.

Priests, Perverts and Paint

Autobiographical, politics and religion

I was going to write about a bunch of technically homeless old men who are looking for a new place to live. I thought against that and thought about painting and why I do that and promptly thought of something else instead, it would appear I do a lot of thinking. Sometimes too much. So instead I shall write a little about myself just a little mind cause otherwise it will get tiresome and we can’t be having that.

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DOWNSIDE ABBEY AND SCHOOL

At Sixteen I got sent to a school located near the City of Bath in Somerset, attached to the school was/is a monastery inhabited by a bunch of monks who taught in the school. Some of these Monks were also Priests the monastery and school were intrinsically linked to each other, and some of the monks could not keep their hands to themselves… The rest as they say is history and more recently karma.

It would now be the right time to say why I paint, well right now it’s because the rough bare door frames look horrible and need improvement, the other reason is I do not have much else to be doing and I want it done and out of the way. Sometimes I would like to write about why I really paint . The door frame, in the meantime shall be taking precedence.

I used to have this poster in my dormitory cubicle at school.

art and culture, Uncategorized

Why do I get these mad ideas into my head and work on them as if nothing else matters?

Why don’t I trust politicians or believe in priest’s?

Why do I like porn and why don’t I ditch it by the wayside? Why don’t I ditch alcohol (again) and leave that by the roadside too?

Why does long term employment evade me and why don’t I like employers?

Why is it I see through their shit and then tell them about it?

 

Why don’t I watch the news and buy their newspapers?

Why don’t I grow up and stop belching and finding toilet jokes funny?

Why don’t I stop farting, or can I even stop farting?

Why can’t I have something more simple than ADHD, why or why oh why do I have so much energy?

Why don’t I appreciate that ‘awful’ school my parents sent me too?

Why did those policemen let me go?

Why did that fool eat that bat?

Why is Donald Trump still alive? Why do they both have stupid looking hair?

Why does Jackie have a sn***le? and Why oh why have the owners of this web platform changed the layout and the way it all works? (WANKERS)

Why am I writing this shit? Why am I calling this SHIT shit?