'tis true, friends. and has been true since the very beginning. for whatever reason, i cannot, and perhaps, let's be honest, will not cease to extrapolate personal tidbits from my life and inject them into every ad i possibly can. my deepest feelings about my well-meaning, however intense, mother, my bitchy cat, a devastating breakup, a clingy friend, my eccentric, spray-painted-gold-shoe-wearing father are all out there for all to see. it's up to you to find the meaning in the billboard, the seemingly innocuous point-of-purchase displays, the ad in the local magazine. but i assure you, i absolutely confess that my life is an open book. well, okay, not yet. someday, perhaps, my novel will write itself from the innermost recesses of my crammed-full-of-tales heart but, until then, you can get a glimpse or two of my life. it's not a myspace page blaring to the masses. no, not that. it's more concealed, but if you know the stories, or you know the pain and the epiphanies, you may recognize yourself out there.
let's call it my diary for sale in a jumbled-up, mixed-up fashion, disguised as advertising. and doing it, so they say, pretty damn well. my personal failures, successes and dreams are selling you something. for now, it's something you can eat. how interesting.
i'd show you some stuff, surely i would, but, well, i can't. some of it hasn't been released yet. and there are copyright laws. and competition. and legalities. but look for it, i tell you. it's out there.
with love, pain, experience, acceptance and, yep, sure thing, advertising.
that's art...kinda?
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