Revisions

The new episode of White Trash Occultism will go up late. Last week got away from me, and it required some additional edits. I’d initially wanted to stick to a weekly schedule, with a new episode every Tuesday, but I think bi-weekly is more realistic, even if we record weekly. That said, I’m eager to get it up there because I think we hit our stride this episode. It feels like it’s found its tone. That’s not to say it won’t evolve further as we continue to record new episodes (we’re recording episode 3 tonight). I think art is a perpetually a work in progress. Even completed works are really just part of a larger work, even if that larger work is the artist him/her/them self.

That philosophy is a huge part of why I’m releasing ONE AND ONLY on my blog a little bit at a time. To show that progress in real time. This book is a distillation of my interests into a singular work. It’s horror, it’s a tragic love story, it’s littered with occult themes, and one of the characters is a pro wrestler working for an indie promotion. Of course, I have other interests beyond these things, but I don’t know, I’m having a moment right now. Not so much an identity crisis as it is a strong desire to give my small audience a statement of purpose.

I don’t think it’s possible for artists just starting out to do this. None of us emerge fully formed. It involves self-exploration, failure, living, and practice. And even after you’ve found the thing you do, that doesn’t mean the discovery process is over. Your inspiration, your ability, will ebb and flow. It’s not something we want to admit. We want to believe we can become an art factory, an operational flesh facility generating a perfect product over and over until the grave eats us. It’s just not the way it is. There is no perfect product, first of all, and machines break down, they get rusty, they need maintenance and repairs. Sometimes, the standard of quality slips (remember Windows Vista). Even that is part of the process. All of it is.

Or maybe it’s just me.

I ended a collaboration over the weekend. The person in question is a bit of a perfectionist. I am not. Their way isn’t wrong. It just isn’t how I do things. Besides, with a new baby on the way in less than a month, I just don’t trust myself to keep up with them. Sure, it was an opportunity I closed the door on. Sure, I probably could have addressed my concerns with this person sooner. But I am imperfect.

I also found out that soon we’ll have to put down Jack, a cat who was our first baby and who we had to rehome with my father-in-law. I wrote about him here. I hate that we had to rehome him. I hate that shit got here. But life is imperfect.

Life is full of moments we wish we could revise. An artist’s backlist is full of works they wish they could fix with their newly refined skills.

But you can’t go back. You can only move forward, refining as you go.

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