JULY-OCTOBER 2008

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walt cessna
Thursday, October 09, 2008

"You're lying to me...That IS not your fathers voice..."

My mom is convinced that the voice on her cell phone voice-mail message no longer belongs to my father. First she calls the number and listens intently, cupping her other ear closed so as not to miss one syllable. "That is not your father's voice," she says, then hands the phone to my brother & his girlfriend so that they can hear for themselves. They listen. They look at me in bewilderment. They hang up the phone and tell my mother that she's wrong and it is my fathers voice. That's when she accuses them of being liars and trying to make her crazy so we can have her committed. Completely koo-koo for Cocoa Puffs. So I pick up the phone, dial the number and nervously await voice-mail to pick up. When it does, it's my fathers voice, just like it has been for over 5 years. The exact same message. I look at my mom and she can tell what I'm about to say by my expression. She falls back in her chair and screams, "What is wrong with me? What is happening to me!" and I try to comfort her but her tears will not be stopped and the pain must come. And I think about my fathers voice which I haven't heard since he died from lung cancer 3 years ago and it makes me miss him and wish things were different instead of the fukt up way they are now.

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Wednesday, October 08, 2008

LEFT ALONE TO MY OWN DEVICES...


...I found myself perusing the local Books A Million, located smack in da middle of one of the countless stip malls that infest florida like a deeply rooted plague. I arrived here yesterday after an exhausting 7 day whirlwind with my current love situation in NYC. After a pretty bad break-up (our 2nd) with Will, I spent a week up in the Pocono mountains in PA with my cousins. It was pretty chill- lotsa talkin, eatin, writen, drawin & healin. I tried to keep off the pain box, but after many phone conversations with Will, we decided to meet back at the apartment and try to work things out, which we did and proceeded to spend the nxt 7 days acting as if nothing happened, doing all of our favorite things and actually getting some art/work done. we eventually talked about everything and came to some harsh but obvious realizations about what works and what doesn't for us. Now I'm here in FL dealing with my crazy family for the next 2 wks and trying to figure out if getting back together again is going to help or hurt us. Of course the first night I'm gone Will goes out and gets completely trashed, ignoring my calls until he finally picks up way after midnite, supposedly safe at a friends house. The next call comes at 6:35am to let me know he's arrived at another friends house safely. I'm kinda like thanks for sharing, but WTF with waking my ass up? Haven't heard from him yet today and that's OK as I don't really know what to say or even actually want to say something. That's why I found myself at ye olde book shoppe (i'm bored, indulge my gramatical wierdness). I thumb through endless fashion magazines, stunned by Balenciaga, seduced by Dior couture, wrecked teens in McQueen and disgusted by the Invasion Of The Body Snathers like Kidman cover of bazaar. My mind races as I consider the new Augustin Burroughs audio book and the fierce temptation of a random copy of Ask The Dust by my fave Fante. I'm distracting mself, yet replaying the scenes of the past week in a movie reel of the mind. The long walks thru NYC streets full of visual stimulation, the gallery crawl where we ooh & aahh & then go blahhhhhhhhhh, ODing on art until we collapse at a local diner and share some food, the movie marathons entwined like pretzels on turqouise zebra sheets and the delicious dinners cooked with full flavor love. The nights asleep in each others arms and the kisses that always feel as if they're happening for the first time. I realize I'm in love with this person, but he's also my best friend. That's why it's so tough to be apart from him. It's like not only is my lover gone, but I can't even talk to my best friend about it. I've lost so many people in my life this year- from over-doses, over-indulgences & over the top indifferances. As I sit back and reflect on the past two years of my life I can honestly say it's a miracle I'm alive. Still creative. Still able to hope & dream. And. Still. In. Love. I feel as if i'm in this very specific board game where winning isn't an option and losing a constant threat. If I wrote a book about the past 2 yrs I would title it "THE WORST BEST TIME OF MY LIFE". But I also have a feeling that this is what I'm supposed to be going through and that if I can make it to the next level of this insane video game like world I'm in, then everything just might work itself out. Is that really too much to ask?






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Monday, September 29, 2008

GOIN’ POSTAL


Her flat, oval shaped ass looms in front of me, encased in a pair of high waisted, almost acid wash jeans that actually appear to be dry cleaned and then ironed again at home to ensure that oh so perfect pleat....
bitch will not shut up. i am waiting on line at a store called "Goin' Postal" (i kid u not) and high waisted jeans lady is debating whether or not she should use priority mail or cheap out and do media mail. my mind goes numb and i find myself lighting up a cigarette and blowing the smoke right at her, hopefully thru her. the counter girl smiles at me and looks at my inked arms and smiles again, as i blow plume after plume of smoke. bitch turns around and says something like "it's against the law to smoke in here", so i blow another round of smoke in her face and tell her it's against the law to wear jeans that make you look like a pear caught in a blender. i push past her, drop my two envelopes on the counter, plop down a five and tell the counter girl to keep the change. bitch tries to stand in my way as i turn around to leave, so i pick her up (big ass, but lightweight bitch)and place her a foot or so away from me as she huffs & puffs and tries to blow my house down. not today lady. i'm cranky. i'm tired. i'm sober. and i ain't about to put up with anybody's shit no matter how sweet it might be smelling. i flick my cigarette out the door as i exit and never look back, preferring to remember the look on her face as i left her- confused, freaked the fuck out and seriously pissed. i would be to if i had to wear those pants. get your ass to target bitch and pick up something thats at least trying to be current. nuff said, over-n-out.





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Strange Fruit


This woman walked past me today and for some reason turned around and smiled at me, so i smiled back...
little did i know this would result in an hour long conversation where I was lucky if i got 2 words in. She told me that i resembeled her son who had been killed in Iraq and wondered if anybody had ever told me i looked like someone else before. well, yes actually. back when i was hustling, a guy called me up and asked me to come on the bus from San Francisco to Sacramento and would pay me $150 for each hour of my time. i had no idea what he wanted, but at that point i was so desperate for $ to feed my addiction i figured why the fuck not. He met me at the bus station and it was obvious he was pretty sick- looked like advanced AIDS and after a breif discussion back at his house i found out i was right. he wanted me to put on a military uniform, which fit me perfectly and i assumed we wre gonna get into some kind of kinky role playing shit- instead he told me that my description of myself in my ad perfectly matched that of his boyfriend whom had just died a year earlier from the virus. instead of sex, he had me spend 3 hours sitting and talking to him, then eatting a beautifully prepared dinner, all in his departed lovers uniform with me pretending to be him. When i left i realized howw sad he was and i didn't want to take the money but he insisted. he told me how happy i had made him and that for a few hours it was as if his boyfriend was still alive and back in his life. so as this mystery woman droned on and on to me about her dead son, i held her hand and let her weep on my shoulder, feeling grateful for the blessings i still have in my life and hoping i could give her a bit of comfort. Strange days indeed, but that's the way my life seems to be- one weird day at a time.





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Are You One Of The Walking Dead?


Are you one of the walking dead...
do you wake up and roll out of bed ignoring your morning boner without even giving it a good wank. do you put on your sad sack suit of bland business attire and try to conceal your personality beneath a layer of muted pinstripes. do you line up with the java brigade for your corporate coffee fix. do you go through the day thinking about something, doing nothing, but acting as if you've achieved something. do you go to the gym after work and try to perfect your effect to a degree your told can and will be attainable. do you go to the restuarant that you read about in the glossy magazine that you subscribe to because some troll told you to. do you go home aand walk your lonely mutt who's been cramped up in that apt all day and try to act as if everything is cool & groovy. do you go to the same bar every night where you flirt with the same bartender and try to get someones attention but always go home alone. do you sleep on your 1 million thread count pima cotton sheets and try to sooth your soul in the ignorant bliss of pure 100% cotton. do you wwake up the next day and do it all over again because you think that you have to. do you?





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For Lindsey


Little girl lost in the fire, pale skinned Bettie with a penchant for spectacular drama...open up to me and let me into your mind, taking detours thru your heart and soul, but never understanding why you make me cry.
Chance meeting, un-coincidental encounter. Old soul, older soul, girl to man to man still like a boy and girl more like a woman. 2 selfish streaks cammouflaged as carnal desire, both with a tinge of sad regret that comes off as insincere and slight. We both trap our emotions deep down in our throat- confusing release with sacrifice of emote. I know what will happen to you, if in fact you are like me- so i'm praying your not and a future full of possibility. Although i've reached a few dreams, i'm broken too, but theres a good chance that won't happen to you. So learn a lesson that took a life for me, and pray your dreams are realized fore ye ever cease to believe.


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Sunday, September 28, 2008

I’m listening to the rain hit the roof of the house i’m staying and...

...each drop hits with it's own particular sound, echoing silently in my heart. My dreams have been about being lost and unable to connect with anyone, even those i love. Last night my dream had me struggling to get down a steep cliff to an unknown beach where several people in my life were frolicking on the sand and seemingly having fun with abandon. From the corner of my eye I spotted Will, but no matter how many times or how loud i called, he couldn't hear me. He headed for the water and jumped in, swimming away from the crowd. I tried to follow from above, but slowly and ever so surely he faded from my sight, swimming away from me into the oblivion to who knows where. That's how i feel about whats happened to us. It's beyond repair, both of us broken and our hopes shattered. He is literally swimming away from me. I'm suppossed to see him for a few days when i come back into the city on wednesday. I have no idea if this will still happen and even if it does it might be the last time i see him. he spent the past night partying with his friends celebrating one of their birthdays and i'm sure getting completely wasted. I on the other hand have been hiding out up in the mountains, recuperating from my last ugly binge that not only put me in the emergancy room but left me with a horribly damaged esophagus and the worst case of alcohol induced acid reflux you could imagine. But slowly I heal, slowly i start to shed his skin and slowly i come to some realizations that i didn't want to face. two addicts together are a recipe for disaster and the only way it could ever work between us is if we both stayed sober together and i just don't think either of us is ready to do it together. I could be wrong. who knows. But that image of him swimming away and not hearing my calls has been haunting me. I love him, that won't change and if it's possible hopefully we'll be able to stay friends. I just want whats best for both of us and if that means we can't be together then i'll have to find a way to deal with it. Here I am once again...44 years old and acting like a kid. Picking up the pieces of my self destructive actions as my life continues whether i'm present for it or not. My first big photo show is in Berlin on Oct 6th and I'm in such good company, showing my work next to some of my idols like Bruce LaBruce and Michael Economy and my pieces are going to be sold for 300 euros each print. Yet I can't enjoy it, my mind rattled by the past weeks events and what might be lost forever. How many bottoms can I actually hit before I finally touch ground?

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Saturday, September 27, 2008

RIM EM & WEEP


ok so i know that it's starting to get bad when i start indulging in back room blow jobs, business bears in office clone wear and my all time favorite... RIM EM & WEEP...
boys boys everywhere- but where the fuck are the men? i'm beginning to indulge in past life behaviours disguised as delicious sexual debauchery. Here I am getting a blowjob from a hot mexican boy while i stare in disbelief at the 70's chic decor of the dirty movie house and then i'm comparing denim dickeies at K-Mart until a grungy EV dude catches my eye and later my cock with his come hither gaze. I get down on my knees and say fuck me if you please to the boy with the goatee and the thirst for some of my knowledge. but you can't fudge facts and my track record is getting in arrears as i replace my need to get fucked up with the fleeting escapeisms into sexual decay, struggling with the cravings of my cock but finding myself jerking off with a freind, while i'm thinking of him and also of him, the two become one upon my orgasmic whim. I can only relate to the cum of total strangers, feeling slightly serene, a bit un pristine...lacking the will to just chill with my ills until i can no longer stand it and i let out a scream, taking my time, if ya know what i mean. so you can suck this and he can suck that as long as everyone gets their proverbial turn at bat- and i'll think of you, just as you think of me- losing ourselves in self declared depravacy. i'm back for more before i even get it- searching for the juicy fullfillment of my jaundiced joy. here comes another one- pretty eyes- he stops, we smile- we head towards a doorway where he pushes me in and presses his self upon me. next hour i'm in a park, walking to a friends house when i see him again- this time with a friend- they pass me un-noticeably, until he turns around and within 15 minutes i'm fucking one of them in the bathroom while the other eats out my ass and i grind into his face with just a little too much force but its ok- he likes it mikey. i wake up in a room covered in lime vinyl with a young man named ben who looks like a 10 going on 40 and i wonder if he's just a kid turned man until he notices me and laughs then jumps back on me. all of this takes place over the course of a week as i sink into a very sullified daze of self contentment disguised as seduction. i prowl. i leap. i mame. i lv a trail of my semen through pit stained alleys that dot my mind and look up once again into a strange face smiling down at me as they shoot their load against the back of my throat, stroking my hair like a mare- and then i stop. i go cold turkey. i walk past the bar. past the pretty boys. past the lustful looks of counterfeit astonishment and sexual intrigue. i turn to myself and question my means as the thrill of the cum sequesters this scene. i think about him and then i think about that other him- hungry for connection, but self starving for survival.


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Friday, September 26, 2008

Sometimes Life Takes A Great Big Shit On You And All You...


...can really do is laugh your fucking ass off. I have been on the longest two year journey of my life and it just never seems to end. Between all the pain, heartbreak and loss, there has been some correct fierceness, but lately i feel as if the trade-off just isn't worth it. I'm starting to realize that maybe I'm trying too hard to find happiness and myself thru the eyes and lives of other people. In short, last week, my partner and I broke up and chances are we won't be getting back together anytime soon. What came between us? My addiction and his and our inability to make things work by staying clean. Literally on the same day as this happened I found out my photographs of him were being included in a group show in Berlin on Ot. 6th. Joy, right? Whenever something shitty happens in my life, something amazing comes along and tries to clean up the mess. But this mess is too deep. He was my partner, my lover and my best friend and now i have to start all over again and try to make up for all the mistakes I have stupidly and selfishly made in my life the past 2 years. I am crushed and so sad, but something is stirring inside me and forcing me to be resilient. We are going to try and remain friends, but I know that will be hard if he starts seeing anyone else. Also, I'm realizing that life in NY is just not working for me. Trouble is, I'm tired of pulling a geographic everytime something fucked up happens in my life. Right now I'm escaping up in the mountains of PA and hanging with my cousins and trying to be positive and not get stuck in my head or get on the pain box. If anyone knows me from the past they know that I am a violent tornado trying to do a slow dance with a hurricaine from Hell. I have accomplished much in my life but it seems that for a few years now I have been trying to figure out who I am after walking away from a 25 year career in fashion that saw me doing everything from designing, styling, writing, editing, consulting, publishing and photography. Since then I've been focusing on my pictures and have had 2 shows so far, the coming one in Berlin being my 3rd and most important. Yet I still can't figure out what to do with myself, where I should go or how to keep myself happy & content without losing myself in a self medicated stupor. The past year i have lost so many good friends due to my lifestyle as well as lost a few to overdoses & fatal disease. Yet I'm still here. Not as fabulous as I used to be, but still feeling fierce somehere deep down. I have no idea why i'm puttting this out there, but I need to express how i'm feeling & writing has always been one of my blessings allowing me to do so. So for today, I'm thankful I'm sober, somewhat healthy and for the moment safe. But in my heart I miss my guy. I know it sounds corny but i really loved him and the thought of having to continue without him is not only daunting but filling me with dread and self imposed drama. Nuff said.

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Better Bargains In The Discount Basement Of Life by Walt Cessna


Fugly, Freaky, Gnarly funky assed trolls seem to be crawling out of the woodwork and everywhere i look it's as if an episode of The Twilight Zone has morphed with Village of the Damned and Invasion of the Body Snatchers...
...how does one put a stop to the beyonder beastlieness that has infested the masses as they ignore everything actually going on in the world and instead search for their 15 seconds of fame and the perfect fitting jean? I'm on line at Starbucks in a Target located smack in the middle of bum fuck Fla. (sorry floridians but unless you're in miami, Tampa or The Magic fucking Kingdom, Fla. is nothing but endless strip malls, cranky crocodiles, impatient old folk waiting to croak and an unbelievable ammount of counterfeit astonishment masking a haze of ignorant bliss). There are 2 counter kids to serve a line of java junkies growing perilously long by the minute and they aint exactly working on speed dial. There is a lady in the front dressed in an eggplant stretchy dress that resembles a vintage 80's legwarmer that she has unsuccessfully tried to pull over her massive tits and frame. Her hair is cornrowed not unlike bo derek but hardly scoring a perfect 10. Behind her is a family of six all dressed in Harley Davidson apparrel and cowboy hats and the dad is losing his patience with eggplant lady who clearly couldn't give a fuck as she decides between a non fat iced mocha or a green tea frap. suddenly, everyones attention is diverted to the front entrance where another family of four in bred looking pumpkin patch people are being detained by a lone security guard who wears a look of befuddled amusement on his sun stroked and tired face as the security alarm screams for attention. Eggplant lady finally settles on an iced coffee then proceeds to the condiment counter where she pours over 20 packets of sugar in the raw into her drink. The Harley family order 6 vente java chip fraps with extra whip cream which sends the 2 counter kids into a freaked out tizzy of confusion, but i'm too busy staring at a well dressed midget in his late 70's who has just walked into the store escorting an unbelievably botoxed blonde hottie through this surreal beauty pageant we call life. The police arrive and start interogating the farkle family until finally the littlest one is forced to pull a bratz doll out from under her skirt and the parents freak out on the kid while the cops give each other knowing looks. the line behind me is now over 20 people long and the 2 counter kids are getting a glazed, crazy look in their eyes as they try to get the six vente fraps together. I decide that i can't contribute to corporate coffee culture and sit down at a vacant table and suck the rest of the scene in, laughing to myself as i surmise the sheer absurdity of life and how desperate people have become for an overpriced coffee fix to get them through their fast food fashion shopping experience. I get up after awhile and leave, but not until eggplant lady has made her return, claiming to have spilled her iced coffee and demanding a free refill. the 2 counter kids are speechless but i know just what to say as i saunter past her and whisper just loud enough for her to hear..."hey lady, why don't you try that act out in Vegas, cause it sure ain't gonna fly here", and she turns around and shoots me a look but i smile at her and whistle to myself just as the midget and the botox babe are leaaving the store in search of better bargains in the discount basement of life.


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Thursday, September 11, 2008

BACK IN DA BRONX BABY! Well actually, we’ve been back for a little over a week...

Spent our last week in Cali as guests of a lovely & super sweet gal i photographed on my last trip, Colleen, AKA Miss Peaches Velour, a beyond fabulous burleque queen & performance arist at her casa in super casual Berkeley. We helped here celebrate her 29th Bday at a Unicorn & Rainbow themed house party that was a total plast & introduced us to her gal pals Jessica & Lisa who both completely rock. I'm still dealing with the gimp foot so was unable to get around as much as I would have liked. Still managed to get in a few shoots, the best one with Peaches & Will styled & made up like punk Kabuki ninja warriors with vintage 80's Visage make-up streaked in red & blue across their faces. They both turned it out majorly. Peaches made us decadent breakfasts every day in an attempt to fatten up our skinny white gay boy asses. After all the insanity of the last month, momma peaches soothed our savage beasts and momma Lisa made sure we made it to the plane on time, even getting us to Western Union so we could pick up the parents approved emergancy $. We got back to NY in a daze of flight delays, overpriced airport food & swag and no leg room seats. We collapsed in our apartment and slept for a day str8, on;y stirring to do massive ammounts of laundry and stock the fridge. We chilled, cooked in, watched netflix...everything was bliss. On Sunday as we headed downtown, soaked to our skivvies from the remnants of that damn hurricaine, Birdsong texts with tkts for his BF Basil Twist & Joey Arias show "Arias With A Twist". We invite Adam & Leslie to go with us and meet up with them just before midnight. At the venue we run in Lady Miss Kier, whom we had just seen in Cali and are introduced to her sweet mom Alice. The show is amazing- beyond inspiring and the most fun we've had in ages. Arias is a genius and Twist is beyond talented. We decided to go for a drink afterwards and ended up getting into a tussle with 3 breeder boys, who claim Will bumped into them. In front of hundred of people, these 3 badly tattooed and american apparell dressed goons proceeded to chase, kick, stomp and punch on us for the next 5 minutes. They even had the gall to come back and attack us a few minutes later when they realized we were still recuperating in the spot they had left us at. Not a single person on the street helped us. Not one. Pretty sad. Will got the worst of it and for some reaon refused to fight back which freaked me out, scared me and made me want to kill those motherfuckers even more. We did nothing to them, it was as if we had stepped into a bad dream, someone elses and got majorly bitch slapped for it. It's taken a few days to recover, but were good. will is in the final stages of writing the grant for his childrens sculpture upstate and so far it looks as if it will happen. As for me- I start the process of going back to school on monday after I spend the day being poked & prodded by the SSI Disability nazi's on Friday. I'm so over the plague, my fucked up foot, faggot haters on the street and being so fucking broke all the time. My show in Berlin has been confirmed though and the gallery is paying for the prints to be done so I scored on that. The show is called "In Cock We Trust" and there will be several shots of Will that I did for the next issue of STR8 2 HELL as well some new ones I shot in Oakland. Who knows, maybe i'll end up a successful pornagrapher. It would be my proudest day.

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Tuesday, August 26, 2008

So we have landed in Oakland, the 2nd to last stop on our Cali journey and a much needed...

...break from the drama and sweat of a NYC summer. My friend adal, whom I photographed on my last trip here, invited us to stay at a house he shares with about 8 other folks. It's an artist/musician collective in a 3 story house that is so wildly visual my eyes are still bugging out. This semi-perma-squat like casa and part-time party place where bands play in the attic and the back yard and anywhere from 100-200 local kids all come outto swig PBR's, do a little BBQ, rock out to bands bleeding with raw talent and make new friends while chilling with old ones. Theres a working jukebox in the hallway, the walls are covered with stickers, illustrations and extremely random graffiti and every room is imbued with a beautifully battered sense of lost child fierceness. The backyard is covered in art as well as about 4 dozen empty beer bottles from last nights party. A van is perma parked in the back and has been customizede into a neon splattered luna lounge where doll heads jockey for position with snging chip munks and hyperdermic needles pierce newspaper clipping declaring we are at war. I'm in visuasl distraction heaven. As I write this I'm sitting in the attic surrounded by more empy beer bottles possibly imaginable, couch surfing dujour everywhere and a set of bongos and an organ. YEAH! Adal is in the kitchen cooking up some eggs and Will is most likely dealing with a hangover from last nites welcoming festivities. I'm so glad that i chose to just get really baked. All of the roomies are super cool and each one unique and correct in their own way. So refreshing and needed at this moment when Will n I are dealing with drama in NYC and not knowing what the future holds. Queen Victoria still has him in limbo as to whether or not he'll still pay for the completion of Wills sculptures and theres also the chance of a large assignment for a childrens sculpture upstate NY which would mean thast we would have to stay in NYc until at least next July. Both of us are really jonesing to back west. NYC just isn't as chill and in order to keep our benefits we can only make a certain ammount of $ on the books or lose our medical insurance which means we'realways really broke. On top of this my brother has been admitted to the hospital for tests because his pulmonary fibrosis, emphysima and Hep C are slowly killing him. My mom sounds so fragile, but she refuses to give in. I feel frustrated and helpless because I can't really do anything but pray and god know i don't do that enough. The last 3 weeks in Cali with Will have beeen a true adventure and at times a test of our relationship. We've pushed the envelope a few times an d experimented in ways we haven't before, some successfull and others stressful. But the smell of fresh eggs wafting from downstair reminds me to live in the moment and for today we are someplace fierce, safe and healthy and we have another day together to discover something new and these days I think that's asking enough.