Synthetic Utopia

[Lenore Lovelace]

Sometimes I honestly contemplate as to whether or not it's worth doing anything artistic or creative. I have loved these things for so many years but hardly did anything aside from creating for my own purpose and satisfaction. Obviously compliments were always appreciated, as I am quite humble and still get surprised when someone writes me and says they dig what I do.

The doubt that gets cast stems from watching other people gain momentum and popularity. Not saying that I'm jealous or whatever. I can be happy for people even if somewhere in the back of my head I really want to give them a concrete make-over. It's the fact that people shameless steal from me, constantly, and are continuously rewarded.

For instance, the waste of flesh that I used to date has photos of himself on MySpace and BodyMod[dot]org that I am responsible for taking. I will never understand why people feel it is in their rights to use photographs that are copyrighted to someone else. For f***'s sake, you can see me [and a great shot of my feet] in a couple of the photos, so it's obvious that he didn't take them himself. And for the record, I was the one who would obtain permission from people when I 'hired' them to take the photos during our performance. Not sure if that means anything so won't argue over those. However, I was absolutely livid to see images from Coney Island that I am responsible for creating. Shame on me for not having watermarked those, but I honestly didn't think about it at the time.

I should have learned my lesson from when that plastic b**** was using one of my photos on MySpace. That was many years ago, cited a really stupid argument [which she had to get her then boyfriend involved in, which speaks for her level of ability to handle her own s***] and eventually the photo was removed. She still uses it for an LJ icon and while not the worst thing in the world, it does indeed violate my copyright of the image. That's pretty much whatever tho.

S***...now that I think about it, every one of my ex's has used stolen photography. Douchebag #1 used one of my shots for a CD cover. A****** #2 used to display some sideshow photos, tho I believe that most of them were taken by other people so I have no beef with that.

Sent a message to the admins over at BM, but haven't heard back from them yet and don't know if I should expect to. Not wasting any time by sending him a message. It would get ugly real quick, and then I'd have to activate that pending restraining order. Should have never put your hands on me, f*****. Won't stoop to that level tho, as taking legal action will be so much sweeter.

Aside from all that nonsense, I still get irritated by an ex friend who plasters trite garbage all over the Internet that is chock full of terms and phrases from my lexicon. While I realize I was not the first to use said words, it became quite obvious when she would suddenly start using them moments after I posted them in my LJ. The only thing worse, is how she fronts her love of xyz, while years ago she would talk s*** behind my back for digging the same. Just b/c you spent some time researching your newest obsession so that you can drop brand names, scene icons and other stereotypical tchotske impresses only the people who can't see beyond your plastic shell. Not saying that people's tastes can't change over the years, but when one makes a point of defining who they are and that they will never change speaks volumes for the hypocrisy that surrounds the sudden love for this or that. Seen?

Guess I will always be annoyed by fake people, and baby girl is one of the biggest offenders I ever had the displeasure of being friends with. Perhaps if she hadn't spent so much time talking s*** about the things she now touts as being her greatest love or whatever, I could honestly be more open-minded and admit that she progressed beyond being definitively Goth [or whatever the flavor of the month happens to be these days].

Despite the fact I continue to receive words of encouragement [most of which come from Dirt], sometimes it's difficult for me to have that optimistic point of view. I keep being told that fake people will be revealed for who they are. As I wait with patience, I watch them become more and more scene famous, which I never wanted to be a part of in the first place, so why the hints of envy? [And I said hints, b******...don't get it twisted.]

Having to see the aformentioned waste of flesh had performed for Ward Hall pretty much solidified my utter disappointment for what is being passed as the sideshow scene, not to mention completely reniged any admiration or support for him [or any other who will freely perform with this liar]. I will make no apologies for the fact I feel the only reason he even has the opportunities being presented to him, is due to the fact that I asked him to come live here. One of the few things I regret in my life, as it has continued to come back and bite me in the ass since I returned to the Hostile City. Imagine how good that makes me feel.

Everything he has resulted from a chain of events that began when I brought him over to the H-Box house and introduced him to the people I thought were my friends. Here I am about two years later, completely broke and inherently pissed about it. For the nine years I have been performing, no matter how bad things got, I still managed to find a way to survive. Granted I had assistance from my Dad and Jon pitched in whenever he could, but that's not the point. There are many events I can't even attempt to be a part of, b/c either he or the Broomfield brothers are involved, which automatically shuts me out. Which has hurt me in more ways than most will know or understand. I even doubt these words will mean anything to anyone aside from myself, but I always feel better saying things then keeping them bottled up. At this point, I am taking a cue from Dirt and telling it like it is.

One moment while I break for a smoke and a snack.

The actual point of this entry wasn't suppose to focus on ranting about plastic people. Tho I am certain I could fill up quite the space with fun facts, but instead will leave the subject alone. After all, wouldn't want you to get an even more over-inflated ego as you masturbate in joy that I made mention of you.

Have been archiving entries from the old journal, which is taking a lot longer than I had expected. I mean, there are six years worth of entries to go thru. Not everything is worth keeping either, and I do not want to waste time copying and pasting something I am likely to delete anyway. Made some progress but still have a lot more to go.

One of the [many] reasons I enjoy reading the entries is to see how far I have evolved; mentally, emotionally and physically speaking. Six years seemed so far away to me then as I worked my way thru cosmetology school and stressed about not having a job. It was so important to detach myself from my mom [not to mention her ex-convict boyfriend] and a lot of other things that were never a good influence. Lots of time was spent driving around by myself, which I kind of miss since occasionally it would turn into an adventure. Having Jon in my life made things a little easier, but at those moments when I didn't, there were only a few things I truly desired.

One of my greatest pleasures from that time was frequent trips to Coney Island. I lived about 20 miles from the amusement area so driving there was never a big deal [unless getting stuck in absurd amounts of traffic]. Tried to take as many photographs as I could to document the time I spent there. I still have the seashells and other assorted items taken from the beach. As a Sea Goat, it's important to always have the ocean with me, and since storing it in a jar can be rather difficult, I thought it was better to collect Nature's souvenirs to cherish whenever I longed for sandy shores. [This small collection remains intact to this day, safely stored in a lock box.] In general, I always tried to absorb as much of the Island as I could. Nothing could put a smile on my face quite like a handful of rides on the Cyclone.

Knowing what it will become breaks my heart. I loved that place, for everything it was and how far it had come. However, there was always a sadness buried beneath the shouts of joy. The amusement area was only a shadow of what it had once been: Electric Eden that invited excited crowds with thousands of incandescent bulbs.

I could go on for hours about Coney...or going to the Shore in general. Time stops when I am on a beach. It's just you and the ocean, which seems to stretch out into eternity. Saw many beautiful sunsets and had great times chilling with my bestfriend. It was like being in one of those 50s beach party movies, only no handsome hunk challenging the slightly nerdy guy to a surfing competition in order to win the heart of the super cute Bettie.

Honing my skills as a sideshow performer were crutially important. Now, it's another one of those things that make me question what my motivation is. What is the point of working so hard when it seems like the effort won't pay off? You know, b/c apparently everything is weighed upon who you know. Dropping names like they're the hottest transexual who's only visiting town for this week, so you gotta holla now while you can. There is no merit in honesty, loyalty and integrity. I have held onto these values tighter than a Southern Baptist clings to a Bible when they see a Hot Topic kid.

Then there's the part of me that says everything is worth doing for myself.
I can honestly say that I generously gave of myself to other people to help them with various things, and expecting nothing more in return than a very simple and sincere "thank-you". Shameless promoting was also appreciated, b/c things like that go both ways. Apparently this was way too much to ask for, and many kind gestures were treated as nothing. Nice.

Back in the day, amongst his many other roles, Jon played the part of 'benefactor'. What that equates to, is that he provided funds for many of my body modification ventures. I have the heart on my sternum and the FTW DIY letter on my wrists [right and left respectively] due to him. Had various body parts pierced. Went on many Unimax shopping sprees.

Body mods have played a large role in my life for well over a decade now. There are a lot of things I thought I would have at this point, and to be honest, it's a good thing some of those never came to pass. It's easy to get carried away with plans and not think about how things will actually effect your body. That's the fun thing called learning you get to experience when you do f*** up. Not saying that I ever did anything entirely atrocious to myself, but the holes in my ears are still there despite the fact I removed the jewelry many years ago. Which sort of proves just how permanent piercings can be.

Anwywho, modifications have evolved since I first discovered you could pierced other things aside from your ears, the delights of BME and of course going to NYC to hit up Unimax. Considering the fact that the only places I knew of to purchase jewelry from were piercing or tattoo shops, Unimax was like Mecca. Here was a place one could acquire a wide assortment of goods that was not limited to just body jewelry. There's every item of equipment one could want/need for DIY or shop piercings [or tattoos for that matter]. A nice collection of larger gauge jewelry at fairly affordable prices. Not to mention a wonderful selection of books on the subject of tattoos, extreme modification and even circus/sideshow. It easily became my one-stop-shop for many years.

Memory dictates that once I ran into an old high school friend there, who I hadn't seen in long enough that I figured I pretty much never would. [Ironically, that was the last time I did see him.] He was the one that introduced me Unimax, and that was when it's location was above Sacred Tattoo. Worth noting that I had the pleasure of seeing chest implants he received from the amazingly talented Lukas Zpira [via video, b/c you know...clean room and all], which was such a remarkable experience. I have to credit him with feeding my love of body mods. We spent a lot of time talking about piercings, which he taught himself and resulted in a set of upper lip piercings...before some asshat decided they should be called "angel bites". He was also the first person to really discuss scarification with me, and gave me a free DIY demonstration once. I had commented about wanting him to do a piece on me, but for some reason that never came to pass. Our encounter that day ended with him inviting me to come watch him get suspended.

He gave me something else that day, which was a reminder I had needed at the time, and applies now. It was to never forget who I am, where I came from and the goals I desire to achieve in life. Many people will be sucked into the mainstream, even if they make a point of advocating the dedication to the 'alternative' culture. To be honest, if you must insist on spending time ensuring everyone is fully aware of your chosen alt-scene-whore status, it really speaks volumes for how insecure you must be deep down inside. Posers tend to do that since they secretly know they need some sort of reputation in order to flaunt themselves to others, especially those lower on the totem pole of the scene. What motivates people to strive for such an empty goal boggles my mind, but hey, it makes me and Dirt have something to laugh about.

In the end, the wise advice of my friends along with my instincts will help me thru this period of funk. They say the best revenge is living well, and that won't be accomplished by dwelling on things that fake people have done, no matter how shitty they may be.

I used to want to have a crew of misfit individuals of all genres, modified in various and often extensive ways, that would have time to chill out and do fun things. You know, flesh pulls, suspensions and some circus/sideshow. That desire hasn't really changed, tho I am far more selective of the people I choose to associate with, but that's another entry. The difference now, is that I realize I can do whatever I want so long as I put my full effort into it. The rewards will not be given by Internet fans or in forms of free merchandise. They will be entirely self-satisfying and most definitely deserved.