The Abstract Art Gallery
Broken, confused writer Jack Thomas puts the images in his mind on display in this "Blog." He dives into personal experience and his observations of the world to share his take on morality, childhood trauma, creativity, relationships, sex, politics, religion, violence, reality and more. Using countless formats from narrative driven short stories, to poetry, to song lyrics and philosophical explanations.
I didn’t do it.
You would literally not believe what I will tell you, like a fucking miracle, shortly after the last update things got interesting and I got sidetracked. And for the first time in my life, I literally forgot I was doing this at all.
And I won’t go into great detail because who the fuck are you and why do I care what you know?
But it was exciting. It was thrilling. And it was sad and happy…
Read More…just to be able to avoid acknowledging the hurt of others, to in return have a built-in excuse that allows me to ignore my own. A clever little trick that makes it appear as though the reason I’d be a hypocrite is because of talking about it, but in reality, I’m a hypocrite for pretending we aren’t all scarred and broken. Scared and chokin’ on the thoughts unspoken.
I tell people to open up, speak their truths, acknowledge their pain and work through it by exposing themselves to the trauma head-on. Meanwhile, I speak to no one about the demons I face. Quiet internal battles. I’m so well versed at the art of misdirection that I’ve trained myself to store backup smaller traumas to disclose the moment I’m questioned on the subject. Practical, tactical…
Read MoreSo basic update, the apocalypse began early this year. It’s very boring and very slow. A mutant virus broke out of what could only be described as the real-world Umbrella Corporation and infected a large portion of the world’s population. But instead of creating mutants or zombies, it created sheep and bigots. So… Yeah, that was unexpected. I’m also not sure there is even…
Read MoreSleep isn’t easily accomplished in my life. I spend nights quite awake, tinkering and creating. When I attempt to force myself to rest, I merely lay there for hours on end. Quite often I can only find I’m sleepy during the day.
Interesting that our society is built to function during the day and be dormant at night, rather than consider there might be people who function best at night.
When the clock is ticking, but my eyes wont shut I find myself writing, thinking, processing the infinite possible paths life can take and has already taken. I’m a curious person, always excited to…
Read MoreOnce every few hundred years two remarkable things happen.
One is always good. This time? The discovery of gravitational waves has revolutionized the world of science and answered a plethora of questions allowing science to move forward to knew questions based on the discoveries made and new hypothesis for previously unanswered questions based on the same discovery.
The second… I always bad. Usually catastrophic in some manner, shape or form. And more often than not is comes in the shape of a pandemic. In the previous hundred year we faced the H1N1 Flu outbreak. 1918. This was tragic and we were well under prepared for what came for us. This is usually the case. Now we encounter the Corona-virus, causing Covid19 the disease. And like before, we are well under prepared. It’s human nature to forget our past and repeat our mistakes. It’s miraculous that we can both obey the logic of science so precisely and detect gravitational waves and then completely ignore science so precisely we miss something that the numbers tell us is a statistic probability.
Human nature is quite fascinating. We seem to always loop back to where…
Read MoreSloped the struggle
Hope means trouble
Tropes get doubled
Please don't fumble
The weight crushes
The grip…
Read MoreWe're different versions of ourselves all the time
With each interaction we learn and change
Every second we grow and age
Who we think we are is just a stage to host new plays from day to day
Leaving us to wonder where our newest thunder reigns best
With identity being no more than a strange confusing mess
A test we go through in exchange for refusing death
To see what else is left during life's strive and struggle stepping towards our final breath
Although we are not orange juice, we are all orange juice.
In fact, we are all both individual cups of orange juice and the same cup of orange juice.
The global orange juice, if I may.
A perfect stream of orange juice.
We feel as though we are also the glass surrounding the orange juice.
As though the delicious nutritious nature of the…
Read MoreLast year on this very day I wrote a short piece about my intentions for when I’m 30 years of age. This is an update on my mental state and where I stand relative to it.
I’ll begin by explaining that my intentions…
Read MoreAlthough I’ve never dealt with writers block, I do occasionally feel uninterested in what I create or creating in general. Creators depression if you will. When each word to land on the page feels empty and foreign. As if it fails to convey the intended message or emotion. Like trying to read a page through fog. Clarity is missing.
It’s times like these where thoughts feel hazy. When it’s least obvious what’s missing from the work is when it’s the most frustrating. The satisfaction of finding a hundred problems each sentence comes with the knowledge that you can jump in and fix it all. This is more like trying to…
Read MoreBeen struggling. Distracted. Making up excuses as to why a book isn’t being read or why words aren’t being written. It’s all internal. Self-sabotage. Lack of discipline and control. All the goals posted up, followed by a lack of strive to reach any of them.
Sluggishly it all gets done… eventually. It’s always eventually. No restraints holding back. No blockages in the way. Just laid out excuses. If the effort put into coming up with reason as to ‘why not’ were directed into reasons ‘why to’, just imagine what could be done. Some factor, piece, of being human creates this slow stride. Self defeat is the only way. Deciding to do it without external…
Read MoreOver the last couple of decades the concept of philosophy has been reduced from what it was at its height, tools for critical thinking, down to trivia information about when certain philosophers were born and what they thought of certain concepts. Western society particularly doesn’t teach the ability to think critically. They focus on these trivialities rather than educating the individuals on how to formulate their own opinions and ideas with the tools of philosophy. We’ve successfully obstructed what philosophy really is, which is a way to acquire perspective. And now we’re faced with a western society incapable of processing complex information. It’s become common place to delegate opinion development to media and social medial platforms and sources. The development of philosophy has been left to politics…
Read MoreJack writes about his journey in stopping marijuana use.
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I’ve been a pothead on and off since I was about 15 years old. Began with marijuana. Eventually landed on ecstasy. Even dabbled in psychedelics. The only one I kept returning to was marijuana. I easily let go of all the others. Returned to marijuana so often I’ve defined it as addictive behavior. And I put no blame on the cannabis itself for my constant return. I’m the one with the addictive tendencies after all. Theoretically, I could have gotten addicted to anything from alcohol to gambling or sex. It just so happen to be this because it was the first. It happen while I was the youngest.
I quit for many years. Since senior year in high school until the middle of my college years. When I got back to it I’d only use every couple of months. About a year in it was as frequent as every weekend. I felt creative using it and enjoyed the feeling. It gradually leaked into the rest of the week. Maybe something left over from the weekend would get used on Wednesday. It wasn’t long before anything left over was used the following Monday. As I got more used to doing it regularly it became such a part of the daily routine that I began looking forward to it. Eventually trying to stretch the same amount through the entire week. By this point I managed to get high each day micro-dosing. As my tolerance grew I was less affected and left wanting more each time. I began buying twice as much each week. That kept me stoned Sunday through Saturday. From then on it’s a tolerance building game.
And then I’m getting high to feel normal.
The days I don’t have it I feel anxious. Depressed. Desperate. Bored. I think the boredom is the worst part. It’s maddening. Whenever I try stopping, boredom turns me back around. It’s so easy to access marijuana and instantly make all things fun and exciting. The all natural boredom killer. For a low price have a blast. But I only think this is true. I don’t function sober because what I used to call sober is the state I’ve reached now while high. High when normal, normal when high. I’m paying to avoid boredom withdrawal. The cannabis does nothing but keep me stable. It’s the only way I…
Read MoreThinking about mortality and the love of creating.
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Often conflicted and quite difficult to please, a complicated pursuit to remain busy and create overtakes. It’s aimless, but fueled by the imagination of a mind never silent. Thoughts without sleep. A perpetual anxiety holds on the brink of psychological collapse. Everlasting depression lingers in the background with awareness of mortality and the shortness of time. All the things wanted but only few will unfold before the red curtain drops, the lights shut off and the stage plunges to darkness. Countless tail-chases to the priceless and of meaning. Naming it purpose. Hoping it doesn’t come across as…
Read MoreJack writes of new creative ventures to pursue.
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For several years I’ve been dabbling in game development. Learning the annoying ins and outs of game design and balancing. It’s definitely one of the most creative activities I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing and taking part in. It is also definitely one of the more difficult things I’ve attempted. It’s right up there with advanced arts like Novel Writing and Portrait Painting. The intricate details that formulate a single fraction of the bigger picture are absurdly complex. Similar to novel writing, if a single piece of the puzzle no longer works the entire bigger picture has the potential to collapse. One loose thread can unravel the entire stitch work.
Some of the more trying times I’ve encountered have arrived with game updates. Each new addition to the game can break all the other parts. Nothing can simply be forced in or added. Incorporation is the correct term. All new features must be carefully molded to fit the existing project like they were there from the start. Frustrations have been faced on multiple occasions do to this. I’m sure had I been someone else I would have quit as these moments came forward. Luckily, I’m a bit of a masochist and push…
Read MoreSince a child I’ve had great difficulty understanding the emotions of others. Enigmatic, the ups and downs of the average person. Looking back, who I misunderstood the most was my older brother. Our interests drastically different our entire lives. I’d constantly accuse him of fake laughing. The things he found amusing seemed impossible in my eyes as something that could even come across as entertaining. I figured he was either humoring me or others when laughing or chuckling and I’d get confrontational and furious. I’d accuse him of faking the amusement. Tell him it wasn’t necessary. I was just ignorant of the difference in interests. I was ignorant to why it amused him, but he was amused.
To this day, when someone raises their voice or speaks in an aggressive tone I’m not aware whether they’re angry or simply loud. Gauging what people feel is confounding beyond further expression. I don’t know how to approach some. I don’t know what angers or saddens…
Read MoreSelf explanatory.
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I’m scared. Terrified.
That’s why I write.
That’s why I get intoxicated.
That’s why I philosophize.
And yet… I have not the slightest clue what I’m afraid of.
I can’t share my thoughts or heart properly. The message always gets across accurately. Never whole.
Life always feels incomplete.
The fun times end too soon. The bad times last too long.
This reality is dull. It’s boring.
Helplessness. As I get older the world appears crazier. I’m left questioning whether the madness increases or my awareness of it does.
My life summarized is Mildly Anxious.
The ups and downs are there. Always present. They’re unpredictability is nauseating.
The best is made of whatever comes.
I’m constantly realizing how little I know of the world.
And that’s just what I’m aware I know little of.
There are things I don’t consider exist. Things I wouldn’t think up in a million years.
Like all my beliefs, given to me. Heard them and followed whichever I agreed with.
I’ve never confirmed any to be accurate or true. Wouldn’t even know how I would do that..
It’s quite possible I don’t understand anyone and no one understands me.
I’m scared to die. But only when I think about it. And only some of the times that I think about it.
Don’t know if I’m succeeding at life or not.
Life sort of… Takes me.
To wherever I am. I don’t know.
From wherever I came. I don’t know.
To wherever I’m going. I don’t know.
I’m happy from time to time.
Miserable from time to time.
Not sure why the things that cause either do.
I’m not even sure what the point of writing this is.
But I am. I guess this is how I “succeed” at life.
I think that’s the goal.
Not sure.
Ten years ago to this day, I decided that if I’m just as unimpressed with life as I was then by the time I’m 30 I would take my life in some exciting fashion. Maybe walk off a building or perhaps blow my brains out in a public way. I’m 27 years old now and still pretty tired of everything life has to offer. Often times I find happiness for what feels like the blink of an eye and it’s gone just like that. Moments of the illusion of joy or hope and it’s over as quickly as it’s started. This is a pattern my life has had since I was a child. Since I escaped my abusive childhood and decided to cut my own way…
Read MoreSelf-reflective, Jack discusses his fears and motivations for being creative. Leaving a mark.
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I wear a mask to go hard
And I take the lie pretty far
Fake like I’m born with these scars
I don’t bruise, I’m from mars
Way high up in the stars
With red eyes locked like darts
Just ’cause I’m smarter when I gab
That’s why I overstand to rap and spit
Can barely stand hands frosty grip
Around my throat
The grip won’t slip
Hope I don’t choke
I’m rolling throwing blame at frozen shame
Stone cells, prison brain
Shattered the glass house
The crash was mad loud
I’m assed out
No second chance will pass down
Claim sober to be left alone
It’s over
Getting closer for…
