life

Addressing a few questions:

Here’s an image a friend of mine posted to instagram recently:

And, as I explore leftist concepts in my emerging political identity I really tried to take these questions to heart, so here’s my attempt to answer them:

How has capitalism disciplined you?

As I’m writing this, I’m working a double shift on Valentine’s Day, 2025, if that gives you any idea off rip. My shift started at 3PM and ends at 7AM, Saturday, the 15th. If I had a girlfriend or a partner, I think they’d be pretty bummed that I chose to work the graveyard shift on the one, universally accepted “day of love.” Capitalism I suppose has instilled in me this idea that if you don’t work, you’ll never survive. If you don’t sell what you love, what you’re passionate about, what you enjoy, with others, for profit, you’re really unsuccessful. To this day I still have “Stories” that I want to make into comic books and sell, and for a time it was my “dream” to “live off of what I create” and that meant my art. I would be able to live comfortably selling art. While my artist career is really just beginning to bud, I’ve already had the experience of putting my art on the market, my first book of poetry, that didn’t even break even the cost of self-publishing. But with my stunning work ethic of course I went and sat tables and sold my surplus books in person as well, and I was able to break even and make a small, homely profit at the 2019 Boston Art Book Fair, but still, no where close to paying off the credit card I had used to publish the book.

It’s difficult for me to think that I can “reclaim” my artistic hobbies, because in the back of my mind I think “you’ve made this, now show someone” and sometimes they say “wow this is good! will you sell it?” and then the dollar signs flash over my eyes. It seems I can’t make art for the sake of making art, like I’d rather do something else. It seems dull to mindlessly swirl paint on a canvas, spending all that money to do it (art is expensive) and not get anything back in return. Still, I want to create, I’ve consolidated all the devices and tools I may need for the future to create, but right now I don’t create. Every once in a while, when it hits me, I create, poetry I know, I write for myself, but it feels conceited to constantly draw self-portraits, and I don’t want to worship false idols with fan art either, although that can be fun.

I suppose in a way, Capitalism has disciplined my mom, better than me, because she introduced me to investing, and starting a ROTH IRA. Even now, I’m a spend thrift, but I’m working with her to start saving money, something I know friends would have bragged about back when I was in my 20’s, where they had a minimum of ten grand where I was struggling to pay a $90 phone bill month to month. I’m doing better now, and no, I don’t have readily available some liquid 10 grand, but I’m working through learning and trying to manage financial independence so that I’m in a better place than I am right now before retirement.

How has Gender disciplined you?

I grew up in a West Indian Christian Family. While we vote liberal the way we act and present ourselves is conservative, so as far as gender roles and norms go there is a lot I have to learn and unlearn. My mom was always a big proponent of my brother and I needing to know how to clean and cook, and while we don’t do it often enough, the lessons are firmly rooted within us. Of course, as a black man in America that grew up during the 90’s hip-hop trends and beyond, I also had to confront “no homo” social faux pas and bottle up many of the intense emotions I felt as a growing youth. It’s different now, and while I don’t say EVERYTHING that’s on my mind I know that my teenage self would not recognize or even be able to comprehend how much more expressive he could have been. While I don’t dream of making out with my male friends I do love them, and I struggle finding the right time or way to say that to them. Sexually, and recently, I’ve been coming to terms with transexual pornography. It, for a long time confused me. But now that I know trans people also, are not a monolith, I imagine it must be liberating to be in some cases, so incredibly beautiful and also have a huge dick, to be able to catch the eye of men and women alike, and baffle them all the same. Not that that’s the goal of any trans person but for now that’s how I see it.

How has the patriarchy disciplined you?

This question feels redundant, not gonna lie, because the patriarchy is in control of not only capitalism but also gender, no? I see it that way. Still, I grew up with a single mother. I could be sassier if I chose to be. I think the patriarchy disciplined me to be obedient to authority, where my “breaking points” or times when I resist feel like extreme moments, and maybe I’ve been disciplined/conditioned to think that they are. Like whose rules am I following? Still, I get in line, I try not to stand out, I, for the most part, do the “socially acceptable” forms of resistance. I speak my mind at the appropriate forums, I don’t immediately lash out with violence (not that you should.) But also, I want to live a peaceful life, and that’s not determined by the patriarchy. The patriarchy probably wants me to be a soldier or some shit, fiercely loyal and nationalistic. I just want a zen garden and video games.

How has the nuclear family disciplined you?

Again, raised by a single mother, my dad tried to be in my life as best he could be he was definitely dealing with his own shit. When I was 19 I met a girl I thought I would marry and be with forever. She broke up with me, I got psychosis and long story short, I was arrested trying to get in touch with her on the other side of the planet for 6 weeks. Since then I’ve given up on the idea of trying to start a family and raise kids of my own, not because she was “the one” for me but because it no longer seems to appeal to me. Some of my best friends have children and I’d been in the room with them, life didn’t seem any more rewarding or fulfilling for them. Constantly tired, grumbling, drinking with me as a temporary escape but can’t get too drunk in the event that they need to clean shit from a small human buttocks. Yeah, “who will take care of me when I die” but honestly I might do you all the favor and go jump off a cliff somewhere because goddamn I can’t take it (I will continue to take it, however.) If someone comes around and wants kids I’m open to it. I don’t know if I’ll be happy about it, I’m not looking forward to it, but I’m leaving the card on the table, just in case. My brother talks about wanting to get a vasectomy but frankly it seems like too much work to cut and undo so I’ll just wear condoms or live the rest of my life only performing cunnilingus on women with no penetration.

How has race disciplined you?

Not gonna lie, until recently I did not feel like the most “black” black American. While your eyes will deceive you to that fact, the truth is my mother and father are Jamaican, grew up on the island and are legal immigrants. I wasn’t raised with the history of African Americans, let alone the history of Jamaican people. In my head, for the longest time, I was just an American. I’m STILL, just an American, but because of the color of my skin, people will think otherwise, or add the prefix “Black” to my American status. So I took a course on American history at Bunker Hill and it opened my eyes to the injustices that black Americans, TO THIS DAY, still face. This was literally like 4 years ago. Up until that point you could say I “didn’t get it.” But I didn’t grow up listening to rap music, I had no concept of the word “nigger” or “nigga,” I never got my hair braided, I’ve never grown an Afro, Black Panthers were a FUCKING ANIMAL, and although I went to an elementary school with predominantly black children there was still a white girl in my class and she for a time, growing up, was my best friend. (Shoutout Frankie.)

My Black Identity is new. Like the year 2025 new, and I’m still learning and growing and accepting the fact that even when black kids make fun of you as children, thats just cause children are cruel and you do not need to carry that with you into your 30’s.

Black People, Black Americans, are incredible. I have to learn two histories, there’s and the history of my island ancestors. In some ways the culture is shared but in American Identity Politics there are factors that divide us on myriad levels, so it’s hard, at least for me, to gather all of this history and knowledge together and firmly declare that “this is who I am.”

I know, without a doubt that I am American, and I honestly don’t try to claim to be anything but that.

How has religion disciplined you?

This goes back to patriarchy for me and obedience. Like I mentioned earlier, I grew up Christian and I was an ENTHUSIASTIC Youth member of the Church. I loved God. I still do, or whatever is up there, and I think I love the Buddha a little bit more, and I’ll explain that. I stopped going to church when I was 16, because the actions of my peers didn’t really match the Bible verses and scriptures we read every Sunday. It didn’t seem or feel “Holy” or “Righteous” to me. I discovered Zen Buddhism around the same time. “Warrior Zen” they called it, with the “Hagakure” and “The Book of Five Rings,” but I eventually went on to read “The Unfettered Mind” and since then, the Koran/Quran, the entirety of the King James Bible, and The Buddhist Pali Canon. I don’t know what else is left. For a while I dabbled in occult as well. Actually there’s still quite a few occult books I want to read now that I think about it, but I have to make time for that. Occult and crystals and I collect tarot cards with interesting art, and sometimes I use them when I feel really confused. If the Christian “God” is no longer present in my life, spirituality definitely is. I call myself “Agnostic” but sometimes that feels like grasping at straws. I want to believe there’s a God, something out there greater than us, some intelligent origin to our lives but I can’t shake the dissenting voices and opinions that say this that and the other. The people that call anyone with faith an idiot. And I like to mask it, say things like “God is within” or “God helps those that help themselves” or “God wouldn’t bring you to it if he wouldn’t bring you through it.” Things that I grew up with, things that give me hope to keep the faith, at least in myself, but with the world around me I understand why the Buddha left. Why he sleeps until the next great awakening, why there (in my opinion) are “evil” Buddhas, and the violent, almost enraged expressions of the Wisdom Kings. I feel like I fucking understand that now.

How has class disciplined you?

I feel like I’ve seen my family in particular go from middle class in the 90’s to working class now. I don’t have a college education, but I’m working on it, and I think that degree with boost my financial standing, but for a while I was fine in 2015 or whenever, making $15 an hour, only worrying about the next day at work, and the party I may go to on the weekend. If I could afford some booze and some weed, I’d be fine. Entering into my 40’s, it’s different now. I want to invest, I want to stay current with technology, I want to be entertained. I want to be able to afford to travel. All of these things cost money, and with my “work ethic” I thought that I’d always chase a higher paycheck. It’s gotten me to where I am today, and while I don’t work in a finance office I still wear a suit to work, and if you’ve never bought a suit, even a cheap suit, from coming from a working class family, feels expensive. More of that “work ethic” hammered into me however. I feel like if I got Universal Basic Income I’d still work. It’d just supplement my paycheck.

How has heterosexuality disciplined you?

Man this goes back to GENDER. IS IT MY FAULT FOR BEING REALLY GOOD AT ANSWERING QUESTIONS!? I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t exactly want to kiss the homies goodnight but I do want them to know they are loved, and appreciated. Back when Sasha Grey was still doing porn I bought her book “Neu Sex” where in it, she argued “everyone was bisexual some just leaned into it more than others.” I don’t agree with her but I feel like I can see where she was coming from. I’m not struggling with anything however. I might struggle to explain why I’m jerking off to some genre of hentai if you ever caught me in the act but other than that I feel fine with my sexuality. I’m not seeking to be in a relationship with either party but I’d prefer it if women, FEMALES, were seeking a relationship with me. And at this point ever a trans woman. I can give a handy, that’s like the least you can do lmao.

A not so thorough analysis of my psychosis

What’s up party people in the place to be?

Me again, as per usual.

The last few weeks have been rough, and in my last blog I talked about dealing with my psychosis/schizo-affective disorder, but I don’t really think I dived into what the voices were saying, how I think about it.

So I want to do that today, because it hasn’t stopped, and if this can be helpful to anyone, I suppose I’d like a record of it.

So, my disorder started back in 2011, and it pretty much started with things I didn’t care about, things I would laugh at. I was attending community college at the time, but the voices were so prevalent and disruptive that I was no able to focus in class.

I had a job, I was a PCA for my great grandfather, when one day the voices started talking about my ex.

My ex, from Norway, wasn’t the first girl I confessed my love to, but for some reason or another (oh I don’t know maybe the fact that we literally travelled to meet up or something, a chance opportunity that never or rarely happens) she was the most significant love of my life. I met her family, she met mine, I was done with dating and other women after I had met her. Of course, the relationship didn’t last, for whatever reason (this is me, talking outside of my disorder and we’ll get there, trust me) and I was forced to date and go out and meet people again. That was the “normal,” “healthy” thing to do at the time, pre-pandemic.

Fast forward to 2017, I go back to school, but during the time my psychosis is talking about my ex, I start a fairly aggressive e-mail campaign, asking her things like “why are the voices in my head talking about you?” “why do they have this information?” “How do they know?”

How could they? They were external, outside of what I consider “my mind” and weren’t my own voice in my head.

Of course, she froze me out, saying she wanted nothing to do with me or my “illusive ranting” and that I would never have any relevance in her future ever again.

So obviously I buy a plane ticket to Norway to talk to her face to face.

That didn’t end up going so well, and I was arrested for 6 weeks.

I always want to get to the bottom of these delusions.

Why my ex?

What does she or this have to do with the genre of music “Black Metal” ?

Why are these voices so obsessed with eating human feces?

Why do they talk about rape so much?

Why is this still happening to me even though I take my medication as prescribed?

Why do they make girls I look at on the street say “I’m a lesbian” as if they’re communicating that to me telepathically?

At first I thought they originated with my insecurities, but growing older, outside of beauty standards I’m fine with who I am.

I’ve seen a number of mental health advocates and people that suffer from what seems a completely different disorder in schizophrenia express themselves online and through art but I think, at least for me, I need like a science lab done. Just something concrete, something grounded in researching this condition.

I don’t “harass” my ex with e-mails anymore. I have a separate blog where I write to her and about what’s happening in my head, but I don’t expect or think she’ll read or respond to it. It’d be nice if she did but that’s looking more and more like a “never gonna happen.” Still, a part of me still has love for her, regardless of all thats happened.

Anyway, this month is her birthday month, the voices in my head say she’s changed her birthday but clearly I don’t know what that day is, so I’ll celebrate her old birthday. And I don’t mean I’ll buy a cake and candles, no, I’ll just end up writing a blog, maybe a poem, because I’m gonna be thinking about it anyway.

I try to escape my mind with as many legal agents as possible but somehow she always comes back to me, my head or my heart. And I’m on dating apps, but like I said on Twitter/X a few nights ago I feel undesirable and me being out of shape while Gym culture is at its peak, I think it’d take A LOT for a woman to look past my beer belly and decide she wanted to hold my head, forget about sex lmao

Anyway, that’s that. I may update this but for now this is what it is, at least the most recent topics that are doing battle with my sanity.

Peace out.

"How to make love to a negro without getting tired"

That’s the title of a novel if I recall correctly, not the name of this blog, but there will be shared themes lol.

Before we start:

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

Now let us continue.

What’s up, are you stepping in the name of love this Black History Month? I think we get an extra day cause it’s 2024, a leap year, and also the year of the dragon.

Found this article saying Gen Z has less sex, and honestly, good for them. As an aging millennial, feeling outcast by the women of his age range, and cursed with the thought that he’ll be a sugar daddy at some point in his early 50’s or later, I kind of like the idea of finding someone, even if they’re younger, that wants to take things slow.

Truth of the matter is I’m out of shape and out of the dating game, and I don’t know whether or not I want to jump back in.

I’ve tried free pornography

I’ve paid for onlyfans

As of right now I’m thinking about going back to any triple x brick and mortar store I can find to look for something special to get my rocks off. Something to sate my porn poisoned brain.

I don’t hope to find a younger person, a person my age would suit me fine, maybe even a little older, but I think at least for right now, I’m being lumped in with the undesirables, and you have to make do with the cards you’re dealt if that’s the case. That’s how I see it.

Maybe it’s the city

maybe it’s the people

maybe it’s me

but whatever the case is, it’s not happening for me.

______________________________________________

I got a letter from the President yesterday talking about the war in Palestine, and how the government is doing everything in it’s power to push for a two state solution and end the killing of innocent civilians.

“Yeah right.”

I thought to myself, and typed just now.

The news, the eye witness reporting, the activism, it’s all having a bludgeoning effect on me.

Day after day I’m pounded with information about injustices and it feels like everywhere you fucking look, someone is fucking up the environment, engaging in slavery, trying to bust up unions, not funding local school districts enough, and it just goes on and on and on.

My buddy said I shouldn’t take it upon myself to try and fix the world’s problems but I’m honestly already too far gone. My person favorite form of activism is to write letters/e-mails to politicians and state officials but the ink has been running dry lately.

I’d share a place to donate money too so that Palestinians get enough food and water to eat but Israel is blocking that same life saving service with armed forces. Like the UN needs its own private military to do work. It’s insane. It’s really insane, and after getting over the “shock factor” of it all I still can’t seem to find the right combination of vowels, consonants and syllables to really make it click for someone, someone that might have existed generations before me, because those are the people in power, the people that can do something about this. But maybe it’s not my words the world is looking for, not yet at least.

_____________________

Anyway, I want to start a newsletter something “community building,” something people can interact with that isn’t just a blog. I got all these grand ideas in my head but I really need to get them started, get a plan on paper and just go for it.

School obviously comes first. I have a great opportunity right now and I can’t waste it, I know, but AFTER school is all said and done, what’s next?

That’s what stays on my mind.

____________________________

I hope you all have a happy Valentines Day,

I’m gonna go on a date with Palmela Henderson and pick out a fine selection of scented oils,

I hope your day is just as invigorating and sensual.

Take care, and I’ll see you in the next one!

HNY: 2024- "Tension"

Free Palestine.

As I sit her with my sides burning, the tension of my curved spine while I hunch a little to type on my computer this blog entry I only wish that I had done this yesterday. It’s only 1 day behind, Happy New Year everybody.

It’s hard to care about everything going on in the world and enjoy the holidays, so I suppose that’s why I didn’t see many people mentioning what is going on in Gaza, or the Congo, or Ukraine, or Venezuela and Guyana, etc.

Talks about football, being chastised for not giving enough gifts, bringing alcohol no one drank, congratulating people about their movements up and down the corporate ladder, and worrying about bills.

Almost everything else under the sun I talked about and ruminated over but current world events.

Ya’know, the world feels so different when you put down your phone.

But then I got back to Boston,

Back to the guerrilla flyers,

back to the protests,

back to the 24/7 third party coverage.

I hit the ground running.

I’m taking care of a friends dogs,

school starts on the 22nd

I have a dentist appointment to go to,

I need to submit a form to get my associates degree,

and somewhere find the money to pay for classes.

I see 2024 as a year of opportunity, I just have that feeling about it.

A chance to mature financially,

a chance to break free from the few chains that bind me.

I’ve been thinking about my ex, Ingeborg, a lot in the past few weeks since Christmas but not enough to write to her.

I don’t know that she would even care to read what I had to say, but not with just her, I find myself wishing I was still on speaking terms with many people I have loved and lost as I claw tooth and nail to where I am now.

I want to share success with people.

I want to party with all my fiends at once.

I want to stop the yearly ebb and flow of new and old faces that are the crashing waves in the sea of time.

I guess I’m holding on to the past, which is kind of ironic to realize as we enter into a new year,

but it’s not like I’m unable to let go.

I’ve let go,

but perhaps I have further to go to get away from it all.

Peace out cub scouts,

Happy New Year.

An Update*

Not a lot happens in the wide world of Daniel Fairclough, or at least I don’t think there’s enough to talk about.

I’m thinking of moving to video work, vlogs, short stories as scripts etc and as the ghosts of the past still haunt me I’m going to push forward with these ideas anyway.

Speaking of ideas I haven’t pushed forward with, that whole “answer a question from the book of questions” kind of fell flat didn’t it?

I’m not really sure of what I want or what I’m trying to do yet. Like I give myself all this time that I don’t actually have and generate all these anxieties then publish these books and find a hot streak only to realize that maybe this, blogging (?) is easier to commit to during a work shift, rather than trying to focus my attention to an illustration.

I don’t know, what I do know is that I’m 50 Illustrations away from book number 3, please be patient with me and my mess.

Thank You.

Another Day, Another Dollar

So, I’ve been overworked, I’m currently overworking, with the hope that that will change in the near, if not, VERY NEAR future.

I’m working on wrapping up my 3rd book, full of old poetry and new drawings and hopefully closing the chapter on poetry and prose indefinitely if not at least for a while, a few years, maybe 10.

I’d like to get back into drawing regularly but the move is digital. I think about the large abstract pieces I could do at minimum cost but I’m not motivated to make them like I was when times were, worse than they are now.

Expressionism is great for those that appreciate it but I like concrete things, ideas, shapes, people, plants, animals, you know, something that when I look at it it makes sense, and I don’t have to guess the meaning.

Because at the end of the day, if it doesn’t have meaning, people will try to ascribe meaning to it, which, is part of the fun, but also, not my intention. I don’t want you to guess, and I suppose I should know if I give you want you want you won’t want it anymore.

sigh