As you fantasize about parking it outside the gym tomorrow after a chai with your bi-sexual life coach- run your fingers through your receding hairline as it blows in the wind then clasp your prostitute’s hand, look past her fake eye lashes and deep into her blue contact lenses and tell Irena she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever paid for in the last fortnight.

-jw

Brett Whiteley defined painting as a game visually describing the “centre of the meaning of existence” and drawing as basically confirming the commonplace as beautiful or probing with authority into the unknown. The visual evidence of this philosophy manifests in the flowering of originality, unpredictability and the absence of doubt in the mark of a unique artist. Nuanced, stylised, difficult to mimic and impossible to replicate, a great artist’s work symbolises their search for an unadulterated interpretation of their reality and an as-true-as-possible representation of the self in their chosen medium. However, it is only after an exhaustive and time-intensive undertaking through experimentation, reflection, failure and doubt that an individual’s truth starts to gradually materialise on their internal horizon.

It is here, as darkness renounces its dominion over light and hesitation dissipates into self-belief, that history has located Ears (Daniel O’Toole) ascending onto the shoulders of past masters to provide his own influential platform. At the age of 28, O’Toole, the Sydney based musician, photographer and painter is the possessor of an almost incomprehensibly fertile imagination, abstract intelligence, voracious ambition and the philosophical artistic wisdom of an artisan twice his age. It is these character traits, as well as a detailed map of the paths treaded by his influences that have guided his unassuming advance to the front-line of a new generation of world-class contemporary artists.

With the simple disclosure of their mind’s inner workings an artist distinguishes themselves from those who choose to repress their expression and create themselves as uncreative creatures. Armed with the unlimited resource of his own humanity and an alchemic visual curiosity, Ears’ paintings blend the whimsical nature of early childhood with a ripened melancholia – propelling his work deeper into his involuntary subconscious with unexpected visual consequences. Drifting through painterly constellations outside our preconceptions of what is and isn’t beautiful, Ears continues to fortify his own enigmatic sanctuary to uncover the mysteries within himself – the mysteries he has taken sole responsibility for revealing.

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neiltomkins.com

babyguerrilla.com

sitting on the couch
watching the aussie open on television
tomas berdych is playing novak djokovic
it’s quite a good game
of tennis
djokovic was on top
then berdych made a spirited comeback
in the second set before djokovic’s
class shone through
and he
took it in four sets
we’re eating guacamole and carrot sticks
accidentally bought the beetroot dip
with wasabi so you’re refusing to eat it
feeling a bit tired so go lie down on the bed
in your room
and muck around on instagram
heavy eyes
have a quick nap
at the wrong end of the bed
wake up and decide to stream
more derren brown episodes
off youtube
these ones are about placebos
and religion
start to feel kinda horny
and let my partially erect cock
fall out of the bottom
of the shorts you bought me
which you told me not to get paint on
then i got paint on them
five minutes after you left
you come in and lie down
next to me
and start playing with my cock
and take my shorts off
my cock is hard and I’m lying on my back
still watching my laptop
but now my cock is sticking up
in the air
partially obscuring the screen
the episode ends
quite inspirational really
about how we can conquer our own fears
and achieve whatever we want
with the power of our minds
you start to suck my cock
and i grab your hair and
force your mouth down and
push my cock
down
your
throat
forcefully
you gag for a while then i let you come up
there’s saliva dripping from your
open-mouthed-bottom-lip
and that turns me on
i force your face down on my cock again
this time really gagging you hard
i like the way you sound when you gag
and i know you like being treated rough
i push it a bit far and you slap my leg really hard
and pull up and tell me you couldn’t breathe
i ask couldn’t you breathe through your nose
you say no
then i think you couldn’t breathe because my cock
had blocked your whole throat and no
air could get down even from your nose
a concept i had never considered
you ask me to finger your pussy while you suck my dick
i slide my fingers under your underwear
and my fingers find your pussy already wet
fuckably wet
i slide two fingers
in and out and enjoy
your moaning and how deep you suck my cock
i start to rub your asshole through your panties
and listening to you moan
makes me ever hornier
i start rubbing your clit
and by this stage we’re both
pretty horny and you come up
and turn your back to me
whilst pulling down your underwear
and grab my cock and slide it into your pussy
i start to gently spoon you
because you joke that I never
make love to you
things progress and i end up behind you
fucking you doggy
pulling on your long plait
forcing your head back and your back
into an arch
watching your tattooed body in the mirror
enjoying the oriental dragon that
flies from your ass up the side of your torso
i soak it in and take some mental photographs
before reaching down and grabbing your fingers
and pulling them back around you
pushing your fingers into your ass
and tell you to finger your ass as hard as you can
whilst i start to penetrate your pussy
as deep and hard
as i can whilst you moan and groan
telling me how big my cock is
which is always nice
earlier in the night
derren brown had asked the audience
on tv to close all the windows
so he could do a viewer interactive segment
and i forgot to open them back up
so it’s starting to get super sweaty
i reach around to your face and
gag you with my fingers
down your throat
a few times
and it’s reminiscent of you sucking someone else’s cock
whilst i fuck you
which seems kind of hot at the time
but in reality probably not so much
i pull on your cheeks from inside your mouth
to distort your face
and spit onto your ass and pussy
it’s weird the things we do to get off
i feel like a change of scenery
so i flip you onto your stomach and bend your
flexible yoga toned strong legs
up behind your head
and pull myself up closer to you
so i can fuck your perfect little asian pussy
as vertically as possible
and start to gag you with my fingers again
then wrap my hand around your neck
and choke you hard so you can’t
breathe properly
it’s all very masochistic and domineering
and probably
says something about me
psychologically
but in the moment
it’s what i need to get hot
it’s getting
too much like hard work
being on top
so i lay down on the bed covered in sweat
and motion for you to climb onto my
vertically inclined cock
because i know you come mostly easily
when you’re on top because
you can grind your clit onto my pelvis
first though i pull your feet forward
so your knees stick up and you’re
squatting over my cock
i let you use
your strong yoga legs to ride
up and down
up and down
up and down
up and down
on my cock till i sense your legs
are getting tired then i help you
with my hands under your ass
up and down
up and down
up and down
up and down
until my arms get tired too
then you’re back down riding me
on your knees
with your wet pussy
grinding your clit on my pelvis
using the entire length of my cock
the end of which
is hitting the back wall of your pussy
over and over again
i start to finger your ass
and with my other hand start to
SLAP
your tattooed right ass cheek
somehow i think slapping your
tattooed ass cheek is hotter
than the other one so i
SLAP
it again and again
SLAP
SLAP
SLAP
SLAP
as hard as i can
i can tell you’re caught between
pleasure and pain
and by now i’m pretty sure your
flatmate can hear the slaps and your moans
but you haven’t come yet so i continue
to finger your asshole
and keep
SLAPPING
your ass
over and over again
i can tell it’s really starting to hurt
because the skin is going dimply
and feels hot to the touch
so i give it a break for a while
and let you focus on coming
as sweat starts beading
and dripping down my face
you tell me you’re about to come
so i start
SLAPPING
your ass again
SLAP
SLAP
SLAP
as hard as i can on your already
tender pink flesh
and as you start coming i
SLAP
SLAP
SLAP
your ass for the duration of your orgasm
trying to create some kind of
simultaneous dichotomic
heaven and hell
you’re screaming and convulsing
doing all the things
girls do when they come really hard
two orgasms are better than one
so i keep fucking your pussy
and start slapping your other ass cheek
which up until this point has escaped abuse
SLAP
SLAP
SLAP
you start riding me again
moaning grinding
and i start to pull on your nipple
really hard
and
SLAP
your left ass cheek
really hard
and keep pulling your nipple
pinching twisting pinching
and
SLAP
SLAP
SLAPPING
your ass
whilst you
grind grind grind
your clit on me
and you tell me you’re going to come
again
so i keep
SLAPPING
your ass even harder
and pull on your nipple almost as hard as i can
whilst you scream and shout and come hard
again and i’m glad you’re going to feel satisfied
tonight
i thought i’d leave your asshole alone
at least with my cock
but before i know it you grabbed my cock
and start rubbing it on your ass
so i spit on my hand
and rub it on my cock
and your asshole
and you start to work it
into your ass
and it slides in
relatively easily
as i’ve been fucking your ass
pretty regularly for the last week
but it feels
uncomfortable in this position
so you jump off my dick
and lie next to me
i spread-tongue-fuck-and-spit
on your asshole
before you grab my cock and
slowly work it in
until you’re taking the whole length
of my cock deep in your ass
as i start to pump you
harder and harder
and reach around and grab your neck
with my hand tightly
and start to choke you
and ask you
to talk dirty for me
so i can come
so you start calling yourself
my nasty girl
over and over again
and telling me to fuck your ass
harder and harder
and you start repeating the words
i’m your nasty girl
fuck me deep in my ass
come in my ass baby
come in my ass baby
which are my favourite words to hear
something deep in my
twisted psyche
is unlocked
and an orgasm starts to form
at the base of my cock
so i start pumping your ass
deeper and deeper
giving you the full brunt and length of my cock
and you love it
and i blow a huge load of come
deep in your ass
which is always nice
then i sorta just lie next to you
two sweaty bodies
my cock starts to soften
in your ass
i leave it in there
plugging my come
and catching my breath
before grabbing your singlet off the floor
to clean my cock
and to wipe the come from around your ass
after i pull out
then i curse derren brown
for making me close all the windows
because i suddenly realise how
hot and stuffy it is
so i get up and open all the windows
which now have condensation on them
which reminds me of that scene
from the titantic
where leo fucks kate in the car
and let the cooler night air
wash in the window
and over my sweaty sex stained body
knowing if there was anyone on the street
they could see me naked
and not giving a shit
it’s amazing how little you care about things
after you’ve come in someone’s ass
i know i should go have a shower
or at the least go clean my cock
but i know i won’t
so i climb back onto the bed
another night with a lover
who lets me take everything i want
and gives me everything i want and
makes all my fantasies sweaty realities
which makes me wonder
what else there is to do
once I’ve had everything i want and my
fantasies aren’t fantasies anymore.

-jw

http://instagram.com/james_watkins

I recently visited the ‘Francis Bacon – Five Decades’ show at the Art Gallery of NSW in Sydney. I took along a pad and a pen and jotted down some words as I made my way through this incredible exhibition from one of the most powerful painters of the 20th century. I highly recommend making the effort and taking advantage of the privilege that is witnessing a collection of his works in the flesh.

_________________

‘Chaos Breeds Images’

Step forward to share a moment where his paintbrush fell crossed legged across arms within silent lumps of flesh lying dormant on the ground, whilst boxed-in desires rest on a chair with collared muscles smearing laughter heavy on rib-caged shoulders. Pink and blue shadows wear purple hearts in the dark, faceless choked mirrors reveal creased and crumpled photographs distorting private courting chance on the brink of pink accidental success.

Compassion and despair read threads bare, dark blue isn’t black dressed to impress depressed white spots of life in the eye of a lonely star. Triptych witches stitch broken-in lover’s bruised palettes, as furrowed ties steal uneducated pretty thieves dressed in peace entering distorted inner-self rhetoric singing the wrong person’s song.

Yellow aura fleshed shoulders rise fragile miles through informal dormitories lined with white divine prizes touching silent lips. Black tipped maroon ears licked fear near faceless faces racing laced baboons devouring noble liquid flesh off the back of unprimed canvas. Untitled dogs roaming Roman green scenes gold-framed, purple orange red four legged pegged babies beg for unperfected flesh.

Red tracked sculptures left dead unfed against lust’s walls, yellow handles open tall locked doors to read foul-mouthed obituaries. Lover’s quarrels involved violent drug addicts in the attic emphatically provoking choked broken brushes in rushed, hushed strokes. White pools of faceless fat legged fools swipe carnal stripes down hideous beauties, tuned muted flutes sit heavy in un-rendered hands left bloodied by diminished likeness. Unfinished shawled friendship covered pale blue spaces in the news broken yesterday’s tomorrow.

Informed lawns spawned alcoholic grey haired pornographic forlorn pawns. Strangers can’t see each other’s ignored explicit spheres, elicit skin pitted against pale agony toothed skies. Pleasant smells studied eras of terror sucking nipples with eyes closed in rows, swooping nostalgia sent pink-purpled friends hung together sealing eyes revealed. Blended-blue curtained dwarf lovers left dead on the bed holding sleeping pills on the first day he bled.

Retrospective collected hollow-bodied lovers cascading through broken darkness into human rubble, rest-in-pink beige grey head finally draped on strange shadows unrelated. There’s no life left where once life slept. Arrow pointed to open wound theory acts as circled cuts locate bandaged knees weeping. Bullfight poetry laments departed death of a matador laying eggs in the womb.

Atheism died in the arms of Catholic nuns, spray-painted faint bulls schooled by umbrella tellers of distorted violet violence. Convulsing lilac weight of gravity held in cavities of colour. Framed shame deepens schemes dripping burnt ink in old techniques unlearnt. Arms leave aerosol-seated freaks seeking pink shadows stripped naked who can never revisit chance.

Rembrandt reproductions scarred white lives within black-blurred memories lost in demonic-anatomic voids. Blue-shaven mirrored mutant’s reflections inflected detections elevated on detested infested pedestals. Newspaper nightmares suspended in un-rendered dismembered remembered blended Decembers. Three flesh brothers hang blue shadows around halo circus tent rent boys.

Flesh’s own bones pile carcasses and light bulb desires, green ghosts circling shoved spotlight bruises learn expensive lessons. Haunted divine spines redefine beauty, obtuse cubed prisoners fall pinned to the wall framed tall. Inverted vertebrae pleasure perversely measures a fitted tuxedo for the Wizard of Oz. Fly my cricket-padded pretty fads asks the Devil to sit and rest deceased whilst firm brown legs bend watching.

Caged cold teeth scream for stranger’s trapped wishes lost in frozen greyness devoured, a numb rose crucified by its own thorns bleeds burnt fire mazes. A layered hippo sleeps thick months suggesting light and space, canine reclined mandible claw unlocked valves of sensual enjoyment within seminal terminals. Preying on protestant parents, Picasso hoarded homosexual flexed lords tested at home.

Black and white frightful friends lent bodies torn by sky-stained-pain posed amongst the rubble. Soho-boho-no-hope-roped portraits in the tour-guided kitchen narrative where his fingers, eyes and life were not spent behind glass. Left first in line on timed circus clenched tents, imperial ambiguity of affection defected boxcar boxers. Flesh fairies’ potential violence sketched royal thrones of Pope’s bones in condoned no-go-zones, leaning purple gowns screaming blurred frowns where meat hung behind unsung zeros.

Dream fisted wish-list veils wrestling trestles in metric mazes. Broken rain-shadows fall across crouching male nude who suggested rested tests best trapped on red heads leading fifty shades of grey-ghost-faced-killer-gorillas walking towards Van Gogh’s falling sunsets. Sadness suit sitting on depressed confessions, oil painted claustrophobic lessons taught earless wanderer to copy red fields. Golden plains came in hand ready to point faintly at ashtray domes reclined behind drugless vessels pinned to abstract furniture.

Butts burn on the raw floor, walls curve around striped crucifixes, leaning back feet up on his skeleton table canvas left unpainted. Trapped beasts bare talon-jaws lurching, fade-to-black-Africa perched ready to dive into infinity’s pool suspended. Cold naked sublime voids avoid drowning in midnight oceans, frozen nameless moons illuminating broken dead dogs faded walking disposed roads unaided.

Disconnected deep-black waded devil’s pets shaded pathless paths, blue and orange Sphinx back-dropped crop branches, jaded owls prowl Egypt’s crypt sands screaming terror in monochrome blues at the end of the line where chaos breeds images.

- jw

___________________

‘none of this is true’

I walked onto a train today, sat down and started to read. There was a nasty smell hanging in the air so I checked to make sure I hadn’t sat in a puddle of cheap piss. It turned out someone had taken a perfectly formed shit on the carriage and spewed up next to it.

I got as close as I could, held my breath and took some photos.

Your girlfriend always goes for my lips when I lean in for a casual greeting kiss. I consciously turn my face like you would normally do for a cheek peck,  but she always manages to get a bit of lip.

Even though you broke my heart I know I shouldn’t have slept with two of your friends, particularly the one you had a falling out with. I remember the first one getting into bed with me after drinking vodka all night and pretending she wasn’t going to have sex with me because of you. She wore my favourite blue jumper the next morning, the same one you looked so beautiful in because it matched your eyes. I can still remember enjoying her cute little ass popping out the bottom as she made me a stovetop espresso.

The second friend had the most sensibly sized fake tits I’ve ever seen. I fucked her from behind without a condom and we came at the same time. I asked her why she wanted to have sex with me and she said “for fun”, but I think we both knew it was more about you.

The first time I ever masturbated was after watching this bizarre adult cartoon about a woman with a massive leather-strapped bust who was some sort of mystical, sword wielding, monster-slaying warrior. There were naked sex scenes and when I went to take a piss I found this new transparent sticky substance on the end of my cock.

I then went out into the hall and had my first orgasm all over the wall.

When I was a teenager, I was peer pressured into having shots of whisky. I was so drunk I didn’t know what I was doing and ended up leaving in my car so no one would think I was uncool for feeling sick. I then projectile vomited all over the dashboard and into my air conditioning vents. I snuck home and stole some towels and air freshener so I could clean up the interior.

Afterwards, still in a panic, I hid the towels in the bushes a few hundred metres up the road. A week or so later our pet dog sniffed them out whilst you took him for a walk. You asked me why you had found our distinctive bath towels at the top of the street covered in vomit and I blamed my sister’s friends.

I recently had a sex dream about your girlfriend and thoroughly enjoyed it.

I’m the person that caught you wanking left handed with your pants down around your ankles in your parent’s lounge when we were eighteen. I thought it would be hilarious to hit the window really loudly and run away into the night.

I never told you it was me.

We were at a gig and I was absolutely shit-faced drunk and stoned. You had an amazing neck, great skin and nice teeth and asked if you could drive us home. The car ride was taxing – all I remember is streaky lights, wet windows and a general sense of disorientation. Later, when I was sucking on your perfect pussy I had to concentrate on not throwing up because I was so smashed. I know I couldn’t get it up properly and I don’t remember falling asleep, but I’m pretty sure I passed out whilst you were trying to ride my partially erect cock.

What I do remember is waking up next to you – cold, completely naked, except for thin black odd socks. I made my way down the stairs, through the warehouse (still naked) and up to the bathroom. I was swaying from side to side and still quite drunk so I had to sit down to take a piss. As soon as I relieved the pressure I experienced a bizarre, warm-wet sensation around my cock and realised I was pissing into a flaccid condom.

In retrospect, both times I’ve slept with you I’ve performed awfully.

When we were sixteen and watching late night B grade pornos, I snuck off into the bathroom and masturbated into your sink whilst fantasising about your sister.

I never told you I have video footage of us having sex. There’s a part where you moan “you’re a machine”, which always makes me laugh because I was so young and had no idea what I was doing. I think you knew at the time that I was filming because you kept saying things like “why is the red light flashing on the camera?”.

I wasn’t in love with you any more.

-jw.

you said you used to
ride your motorbike here
when you were sad.

eating vegan chocolate raspberry slice
from your cafe
an old dog is barking at a
tanned man going for a run
with flies following him.

we only have one maroon
members only jacket
that i put on then hold you
and block the wind
but you still have goosebumps
on your legs.

we thought the dog was a girl
but he’s a boy
with big black tumours
on his elbow and stomach
i think he knows
he’s dying because
there’s some strange dignity
to his sadness
like he’s accepted his fate.

he looks like a cross between
a sausage dog and blue heeler
rolling around incessantly
in the dry brown grass
he just wants to be loved
like all of us.

his eyes are a bit googly
and he stinks a bit
but not too bad.

he drooled on your yoga mat
but it’s okay because you
said it’s non-stick.

you walk away to the swings
in your dress
your hair is
blowing in the wind
and catching the light
i can see some of your tattoos
and i like that
i’m the only one
that gets to see
all of them.

i watch you going higher and
higher on the swings then make
a couple of videos of the dog
on my phone because i don’t
want to forget him.

he makes me laugh out loud to myself.

this is an expensive neighbourhood
you told me about parties with
your half-friend that had
unlimited amounts of cocaine
around here but you didn’t have any.

the boats in the harbour below look
like they’re floating on shimmering liquid gold
which reminds me of the part in
indiana jones where they make
golden statues out of humans.

i’m pretty sure it was from
one of those movies.

you look so beautiful walking back
from the swings in the wind
when you get to me
you kiss me with cold lips
and tell me the girl next to you
on the swings
thought you were a weirdo
because you were laughing to yourself.

i note all your rings
on all your fingers
and bracelets and think
i dig your sense of style
as you kiss my forehead.

i keep telling you
that i really like you
but a few times
i have felt like telling you more
and i think that if it’s on my tongue
and i want to say it
then i should just tell you
that i love everything
that you are.

-jw.

simple words for a complex thing
all we’re given is all that we need,
two voices clear in harmony sing
to her god’s soul she brought to feed.

the sun still burns true bright this night
silver sisters whose eyes know the moon,
in the dark she holds close what feels right
till morning birds wake lovers in tune.

-jw

(fall)
like a white-hot meteor
pummeling the earth
trading mercy
for pleasure.

(bloom)
every colour’s dream.

(blot)
the pad of a poet’s
lost truth.

(dance)
with the devil’s fiancé.

(fuck)
a pregnant
angel in the clouds.

(taste)
nectar and poison in the mouth
of a goddess whore.

(learn)
birds don’t grow roots
trees don’t know how to fly
and a desert is just an ocean
left to die.

-jw

aerosol, acrylic – on wood.

planetlovesound.com

drift weightless
in transparent silver dresses
together.

float like fresh air
mountain lion’s roar
cracks.

torn earth receives
gravity’s fear
today.

light falls in the wind
warm from the sun’s
pulse.

worn desert sands
remember lost footprints
reaching.

the giant’s slumber
deepens midnight’s
palette.

you cannot share the night
if we all dream
alone.

-jw

welcome to the future, there’s a few things you should know.

yellow is now called ‘realoper’. sugar is salt and everyone is asexual. the earth is flat again. they discovered the end of the universe and found a pink rose in a clear glass vase.

everybody writes books about their own truth and red wine is drunk at all hours of the day. there is no sadness, only degrees of happiness.

love is now definable. x

-jw.

earstotheground.net | adnate.com.au

kaffeinestreetartist.com

Hiroyasu Tsuri/Twoone.

a jogger passes methodically from behind. i can’t help but notice his armpits; an unnervingly white, discernable foam seeps from the fleshy delta where the chubby folds of his hairy pits, wobbly chest and slapped-pink upper arm converge violently on both sides of a cheap black singlet – a frothy mixture of reluctant sweat and imprisoned deodorant…

and i think to myself, what a wonderful world.

-jw.