Giger Was Weird

This is the part where I fawningly say, "Thank you for still supporting me and I hope you don't think my stuff is crap and your hair is looking lovely today." So thank you for still supporting me. I hope you don't think my stuff is crap. And you know, your hair is looking lovely today.

The sun is out. The grass is long. The cat keeps shitting in my plants. 

Hey, how's it going, chickens. I hope you're all well.

I have a new roommate. Her name is Freya. She doesn't talk a great deal, but she's all right at listening. Pictures attached for you feline fanatics. She seems to mostly spend her time demanding food, peeing, and staring for long intervals into empty space. 

I had an odd thought a few days ago that I hope you won't take as boasting. I noticed that the exurb1a channel has around 20 million collected views or something. Now, some of those will be folk who, for whatever warped reason keep watching stuff over and over. Let's say they each watch 20 videos. That's 1 million people, or so. And it hit me properly that for the first time in history, a degenerate and unshaven scrub sitting around in his underwear and hanging out with his cat can reach a million other humans, at the speed of light, regardless of distance. And I thought, "Shit, I could really use this for positive change in the world." And then I thought, "Nah, more todger jokes." So more todger jokes it is then.

I hope some of you are following the new Twin Peaks. I think it's the bee's knees. It must've been interesting for David Lynch's kids, growing up with him as a father. "Dad, where's the toilet paper?" - "In the darkest recesses of your barren soul, son. Your barren, barren soul."

This reminds me of the time my friend and I were watching a documentary about H. R. Giger. If he isn't familiar to you, he probably is, just not by name. (What I'm about to say will only really have impact if you've actually seen his work.) He was the artist behind the alien ship and the alien in, well, Alien. He's also one of my favourite humans. In any case, in the documentary he was talking about his fiancée who he was engaged to at the time. She killed herself after something of a battle with depression. Anyway, Giger was talking to the camera about this after her death and he said something like, "She was so sad. I showed her my paintings and it didn't cheer her up. I couldn't understand why not." My friend and I laughed so hard we thought we were going to die. What isn't uplifting about this? What was wrong with that surly broad, huh? Just imagine it, this poor woman in some awful black hole and Giger smiling and pointing to specific parts of his work. "Yes, you see, look at the detail on the mutilated head. Doesn't it fill you with cheer?"

Anyhoo, no disrespect to Giger, he was a fantastic human, but man - artists can be weird. 

Excuse me, that was quite a tangent. To be perfectly honest with you, I hit something of a black hole myself what with online stuff this month. Sometimes you just hate your stuff and want to stop. I am generally quite suspicious of people who don't go through this with their work. For those of you not on YouTube (or making stuff in general) I will attempt to describe the condition with a dating metaphor. You must've been in a position where someone thought you were appealing, and while you appreciated it, you couldn't see a damn reason why they would find you appealing. Still, presumably up until the point after sexual contact happened, you didn't give too much of a damn. But it's much the same with putting stuff out online - or any other field, I expect. A few people are watching your stuff, and you don't have the slightest idea why. You just keep making more and trusting that they won't all fuck off. If you're struggling with making stuff, or feeling like shit, or both, then as a word of advice (from someone totally unqualified to give any) I will say: Just keep making stuff. It's what I do and it usually seems to go all right, except when it doesn't. And if that didn't do the trick, this will. 

Some of these unpleasant periods last longer than others. And every now and then one of you drops me some delightfully thought out email and it really is the most lovely thing. So cheers for all that, to those of you in question. It keeps me sane and it means the world. I'm fucking terrible with replying to emails, especially when they're long and thoughtful. What I don't want to do is write back with "Uh huh, yeah, cheers, bye." I'd rather reply properly. The problem is that this takes a while and I'm generally sat in front of a computer screaming at whatever the next video is going to be. So if you've written, and you think I'm being a big willy and ignoring you, please don't take it personally. I will write back, properly, I just don't want to fob you off with some tacky one-line reply. I'd rather get to it when I have enough time. 

Well, that was all terribly self-indulgent. Nevertheless, the core message is that I'm not sure I can even put my gratitude into words; for the support, and just for sticking around. I still don't have the slightest idea what the fuck you're doing here, but I'm not complaining. It has now been a year since I gave in my notice at a regular job and started pushing pixels around for a living. It's nothing short of a childhood fantasy played out in real life. It also makes for interesting sleeping patterns and washing irregularities. But I am immeasurably grateful, nonetheless. 

I hope your projects are going well, I hope you're having a blast at whatever it is you're doing, and I hope you're still enjoying my shit. You're an excellent human.

All the best, as always, 

Ex.