Super Secret Project Unveiled...to my own Horror

In 'Gone Baby Gone' Casey Afleck's character blows the whistle on a crime that results in everyone losing. It is an act of moral absolutism, flying in the face of machievellianism.
I feel kind of like I've done that, except its stupid absolutism, not moral absolutism. My latest project was a stupid idea, when I concieved it, and it remains a stupid idea now I have given birth to it.

How Stupid? This Stupid:



I put it up here so that you will recognise it if you see it, and in recognising it when you see it, YOU DO NOT BUY IT. DON'T BUY IT!

Harvard yesterday (who hasn't seen it, even when I used his scanner) pointed out that my urgent pleas not to buy it may result in a reverse psychological pull for people to rush out and buy it.

I'm not fucking around though, I really, really mean: DON'T BUY IT.

I don't want you to read it. I don't mind some anonymous teenager buying it, or even some corporate executive I've never met. I don't mind them reading it. But I don't want you to read it, I don't want you to tell me you've read it, and I NEVER, EVER, want to discuss its contents.

Some parts, notably the actual journal entries, I cannot bring myself to read completely. The thought of you reading it makes me nauseous.

So hopefully I've said enough.

That said, it was an uncomfortable, albeit educational experience for me, for drawing, for thinking and for learning about myself. Watching John Safran's 'Race Relations' kind of helped, because his underwear sniffing segment probably revealed more about him than I did about myself in this.

I can't imagine it is an original concept. But it was still terrifying to print, to staple, to fold, to hand to some dude behind the counter who is not me. It has my name on it, which was important because it would be nowhere near as hard to publish it anonymously or under some pseudonym, now I have to change my name to escape it, possibly even move.

Because in the name of artistic development I have pushed myself to this new threshold of tolerance, widely expanding my comfort zones I have raised myself, belatedly to notch 3.

Thus concludes Super-Secret-Project-2. sorry that for you, it will remain mostly secret.




Actually I'm not sorry at all, you should be sorry to me, mother-fucker if you go behind my back and sneak a peak at my special journal.