Update

Living in this positive manner has only proven that once surrounded by success, you, yourself, will be successful.

I have a meeting today with some type of publisher/publishing company. If things work well, I am going to be putting some type of book together, possibly working with Photographer Greg Alan on some collaborative photography and poetry.

My next show is the 21st of November, this Saturday. Working with very big artists, I will get the names soon. Check the shows page for more info. Along with the seventeen footer, I am selling framed poetry, hand signed and dated. CHEAP!!!!

I am currently applying to more schools, all far away. I will leave this place, it is all I need right now. My art and small group of followers will not be effected in a negative manner, I will never lose you.

My mental state is at it’s best lately, though every once and a while I do seem cluttered by unnecessary thoughts. I throw them away with the trash about once a week. Ha.

The only thing I am lacking is love but ironically I enjoy every second of being alone. No non-sense, no bullshit, no worries, no holding back. The best decision I have made since I started selling art.

My mother could possibly be going to jail this week, causing a violent uprising in my poetry again. It’s OK, though, because it is the price you pay and what you need. Learn from your mistakes forcefully if you can’t teach yourself. You’ll never lose my love, mother.

-Mike Detelj

 

Winter’s emotions; The beginning

I seem to be disappearing in a dust-storm too strong to withstand. What I mean to say is that I am not coming back to this hurtful place anytime soon. And when I do, desolate and destroyed it will be. A ghost town. A tragedy that I overcame. Things will be dead. Letters torn apart. Faces forgotten. Feelings forgotten. Me…forgotten. My self medication is only driving me away from all you little girls and boys holding me back. I truly wish to have no part in the maturing of my generation. I truly wish to not try anymore with any of you. I truly wish to be at a funeral everyday until I leave. I truly wish to see the pale faces of parents beside their headstones and grey skies under which they reside. I truly wish to never talk to anyone here about anything. But I must and that is the hell I live with. All of you…the ones who don’t understand and don’t wish to; kill yourself for someone you love because only than will I see you have any heart. I am loveless, this is hopeless.Our living side by side is a mockery of who I am and what I want to do.

 

Poem- “Driving by your window.”

Can you feel the despondency trickle down my cheek? It’s trail is reminiscent to the tails of fires that only breathe in existence to burn all that is living; A wildfire of nothing for nothing but itself.

Secretly sliding, path-winding at a pace so blinding down a street too peaceful and serene, I thought about slamming my tan, tone skin against the windshield of misery and incompetence. I thought about you, father. While muttering words in a mild manner, finger flipping the pages of time and memory, the index dragged itself across your name. Flash to myself inside you and possibly your final day.

A window. Giant. Yellow light, as if from suns comparable to the yolk of an egg. Now place the shades in a horizontal manner, allowing cracks of light to seep through each blocker of life. Now…a couch. Side view, as if you just walked into this room of which has a future of moroseness and monstrosity. Silhouette. Place the silhouette of a person hunched over, side view. Coffee table; side view. So from left to right at the angle of one side, window being like a square of light coming at you; Couch, man on it, crouched over, face on coffee table. You now have the image of what I have been seeing everyday since the beginning of my realization at the lack of a father.

Your turn because the first person perspective isn’t enough to grasp, so our hands begin to tremble and insides seem to quake. It’s as if you know what is about to happen.

Slam. Face first into the fist of a white, powdery mess not even a mother could clean. My muscles become the most numb they have ever been. I want to run but the rate of my heart seems to be moving twice the pace of my legs and my mind is losing itself at triple the speed. This is too complex for even I to conjure up the will to understand but will continue to do so maybe eight more times. “I want to escape this misery, ” we say in unison, as the possibility of that car you heard outside your window being related to your new found son searching for his father seems to wither and die. All things seem to slowly wither and die. Death is complex; this is too complex.

Flash back to me, eighty miles over the speed limit and heart rate nearly the level of yours on that fateful day. My foot releases and the speedometer begins to level out. Still living, still breathing with tears rolling down my face in memory of a man who didn’t care, one who didn’t try.

It is the satisfaction of knowing that completes this cypher’s encryption.

But it is the lack of possibility that kills me the most.

It is for the better

that you left her

But for the worse

because I never

truly was given the time and place near your heart to make my impact.

The even greater lack of my importance is disturbing

causing me to feel as if I am the blood-sucking parasite in this life of violence and abuse.

Do not sing to me, my muses, as I have no intention of abusing your uses. Instead scream and mop this artist dry so I can finally conjure up the will

to let myself keel over and die the most beautiful of deaths they have ever read of.

And before I do…please take note

to the sad, sorry statements in which this poor being spoke.

-Mike Detelj 09

Look up to me, the believer

Delicately pasting dreams to paper isn’t enough. So I began my applying myself to the outcome so long ago, enveloping myself in all that I wanted to be. And it’s true, sacrifices have been made, I have lost some friends and ignored the family, but in the long run you will still look up to me for all the hurdles I have not jumped but rather kicked out of the way. I have begun to cheat your silly little ladders and built an escalator, no, an elevator to not hinder my every move.

Stay jaded, things seem more desolate that way and each breath I breathe should have a price tag when you live the life I have.

I am a story of success in the making and nobody will take my little moments of glory…ever. Try as you must, you forces of nature never to truly be understood, and I will laugh as I kick your teeth in and rip the nails from your wretched hands one by one. My violence rains a series of destructive events not even your Moses could match.

This is the cliché, the newly invented, slightly invigorating and irritating event of the century. This is Mike Detelj, shining his brightest and dumbing down all thoughts of a hue shade. This is me being successful. This is where I should have been the whole time. This is me doing better than you. This is me living in truth and speaking my mind. This is me living for art and myself…wrong…this is me living for humanity. I am sick of listening to the people tell me the world needs believers like me, so I stood up and am finally being heard. This is me outstretching a hand to the confused in hopes that more than a handful touch the tips of these gentle hands.This is everything you need right now but still too small to notice…

…I’ll change that. I will.

-Mike Detelj

Make what you want of it.

And she’s there, sitting inside the golden ratio as beautiful as ever. Me? I am on a parabola with no ends at all four corners. My destination is infinite and if I must get what I want then off this path I am to stride. But what is there isn’t sure of anything about herself right now and this is just an example of my helping hand and thirst for personal connection; an impact, a memory, a kiss.

And then there is the thought of distraction. Are the one’s in which I am meeting right now just pure distraction, something for me to chase after? And if the time were to come where a decision was necessary, no, needed, would I be the one to wave the flag and walk away? Am I a whore? Are my words too much for myself? I believe so because I am completely reading a blank and running amok in this cubicle of independence. Though being successful is all I ask, and no relations are wanted on an official level, the advancement on the company of said person would be highly appreciated.

Consider this the closest my heart can get to writing a love letter right now, girl. I don’t do it often. And I hate being blunt. But so be it; your energy, though you claim you lack it, is there and your smile; gorgeous. Yeah, I talk to other girls and tell them things but soon after, I only wish I was telling them to you. I am here, you can call me yours if you want…we don’t need the physical contact, just emotional connection, smirks and winks. I want to see those perfect teeth smiling back at me and then feel that beautiful head of hair upon my shoulder, maybe your hand in mine. That’s all.

And if this day comes, know I hope to never abandon you but I do have personal plans that will go through. Though miles apart, you’ll forever be beside me and the care we share wouldn’t wither and die like the false ideals of love. This is a growing experience and a personal bridge to my heart whenever you want to skip the traffic and come straight home.

….I can’t believe I just wrote this crap…but I guess I needed to let it out.

This is the best I have felt in years.

My god, the mood I am in is beautiful and the way leaves seem to still be falling around my figure only helps to push my thirst for success. If only I could feel this way all the time.

I now realize, though still flooded with thoughts of failures, I was never really part of anything disgusting. The beauty of this life I am living is I am the only one around, or so it seems, that truly loves of second of it. No matter what, I am sticking to my words of “never again” and that only helps to make my smile widen. As I sit here, alone at this empty table once more, I feel such a feeling of independence and warmth that no girl could ever match. Narcissism? No. Believability, my friends. Once you truly believe in something as important to you as yourself you have no need for anything else but to prove your existence. I am in love…. Infatuated with the thought of all my dreams coming true and none of them have anything to do with you. And to the others, I am not here for the sex (though it is nice) but rather to make a subtle impact amongst your life. I am here for the connection. Those who follow me and my words, and truly believe in them, it is time for you to stop and think; “Why am I not this happy?” And this is because you have been living life blind to the amazing world around you. Wake up. Take the mask off and show yourself.  Now begins your time to truly start to find yourself.

I believe this is the last message to the girl who now is just an afterthought so I’ll make it clear; Thank you for all the time we shared and not a moment of it wasn’t worth it. But the truth is you were just a phase to me that I needed to go through and I can safely say I have no hopes of reconnecting, not that I do not miss anything. I miss a lot, but that is only because I have been so used to certain things. My mind is where it needs to be and your window of opportunity has finally passed. There will be those moments when I will feel like we should be what we dreamed of, but they will quickly be laid to rest due to my realization that I have no time for childish games and it is just my mind getting the best of me. I have too much to do and you have not the heart to tackle the plans I am pursuing, nor the patience. You feisty,little thing, you. I wish the best of luck with all that you do and may you live a life worth speaking of. And to your family; I envy you. If there is one thing I envy, it is your undying love for each other. Continue to maintain this through your generation, Jordan, and to some that is all they need. Again, thanks and goodbye.

With that being said, let us document this day as the day I can say I am completely on a mission and living for myself until I reach that point of captivation among the masses. I expect incredible experiences along the way and look forward to the new people I meet. Anyone that wants to join me, I’ll see you out there.

-M. Detelj

What we’ve become, where will we go?

If I asked for you to walk backwards and enjoy the scenery in a post-modern world of hallucination and deprived modernism, would you, seeing how far we have come, consider it at the least? Or would you so blindly bat an eye at the thought like a patron of the arts to a vagabond among a cluttered city street? I would like to say you have matured past that stage of complete nihilism towards childhood dreams and words misunderstood, but I am sorry to say the image you have now reflects the wealthy patron of broken hearts.

Are my words too metaphorical for you or just not that important? Or is it the history of violence and intensity of my passion that throws you off? Who cares?

There is a great chunk of both our lives living in silence and whether it is ever to be spoken of is up to the architect, not the artist. But the architect is an artist at heart and we as artists have a great tendency to be irrational. So, was the moment of silence of which we shared in complete and utter confusion of our beings an irrational afterthought to never be thought of again or was it more a turning point to only learn half of? I mean to say it seems we are no longer confused. We have a good footing upon which direction to step in. But are we really going to let something so important to our morphing of who we are, where we have gone and where we are going to be left in silence? I believe the more we understand something, the more intelligent we become. And does that not make perfect sense?

So here I am, not the battered, medicated psyche patient you kissed four, maybe five years ago.  No. Here I am, the artist I have been dreaming of. There you are, the architect who can finally adore herself the way she deserved. Matured? Definitely. Healed? Pretty sure. Speaking? No. Why? Somebody is scared and I know it’s not me, never was. So speak, child. So speak, you beautiful influence. So speak and let your impact be heard. And when your dust settles, the air you breathe will be much cleaner and a piece of your puzzle in life will silently fall into place. You’ll be that person you’ve always wanted when you start to live life with no regrets. Here’s a start; quit regretting me.

Mike Detelj Speaks Out

The following below are responses to a series of questions I will be asked during a video interview about the affects of anti-depressants. The video is going to be a simple short video for you-tube, non-profit and solely for educating anyone interested on the impacts of anti-depressants and such. Because not all of my answers will make it into the video, I took the time to fully answer them in text, as I write much better than I speak. Enjoy and feel free to leave any comments.

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Did you have thoughts of suicide (or a suicide attempt) while on antidepressant medication?

While on antidepressants, I was known to myself as nothing more than a face in a crowd, moving through the motions of a scandalous teenage world…hoping that one day I would know how to feel again. Everyday a white erase board became one of the most entertaining objects to stare at. Problem is all I could envision upon this whiteboard were math problems. There was nothing more to think about while on this cocktail of thoughtlessness. The only time I had alone…I spent scratching at my chest in anger, screaming at the top of my lungs to music, and cursing the one they call “god.” So, did I have thoughts of suicide on anti-depressants; More than you can imagine. Did I attempt to kill myself; No. But I did from time to time, hit my head multiple times, along with the scratching of my chest. So technically, either way, there was a form of self mutilation.

In retrospect, do you see a connection between the medication and the suicidal ideas?

At times, the thoughts I had seemed to derive off the knowledge that I was on Prozac. In my head, I was saying, “I am on an antidepressant, so this means I must be pretty depressed.” And I think that is the exact place where these thoughts seem to begin to evolve. Accompany this with the medical terms, “severe depression” and “suicidal ideology”, and you have yourself what seems to be a severe mental problem, when really they are all just a phase that became drugged and prolonged. It is because we know we are on something for something like this that our imagination begins to run wild into a deep forest of feelings containing desperation and deprivation, continuing to snowball into this “Oh my god, my life sucks” thought. These thoughts probably wouldn’t be there without these medications also having a presence. I am speaking on behalf of a teenager put onto a medication. I believe the same can’t be said for a young child at the age of five or six. They are much younger and lack an understanding that teenagers have about certain things. If you put a child on some type of drug like this at such a young age, they will grow thinking this drug is a necessity for their life, and without it, they aren’t the same. They don’t even know what this drug does but they see it as something there to help them, which means later on, they will want to know what is wrong, probably fight to get off the medication after they find out and if they fail, angst thoughts will evolve into something much more because of their new knowledge of it. It is a weird cycle of evolving misunderstandings that some may look back on and learn from as I have done or some may never understand that part of their life.

Any friends/others you’ve observed with similar reactions to that kind of medication?

Throughout the years on these medications, I had met many a person on many medications for depression and ADHD. The ADHD ones, while on their medications, seem to be very “Eh, whatever” about anything not seen as a necessity, lacking motive to do much other than what they had to. Their attitude towards life isn’t that great, either, though they may have a perfectly enjoyable life. Some seem lazier than others but all have the tendency to ask “why” about things they don’t understand, argue their points, and then speak their mind on the overall subject. All these views are over the past three to four years I have been watching and analyzing the medicated teenager. It seems as though the ones strictly on just Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall or whatever, still have a mind of their own and do their own thing. But what is interesting are the ones on both an amphetamine and antidepressant. They seem to do what ever anyone else around is doing, enjoying it, laughing with it and all but put them alone, and they don’t do anything constructive or seemingly enjoyable. It’s like a light bulb that is waiting for someone to turn it on.

What’s it like not being on anti-depressants?

To not be on anti-depressants…isn’t easy at first. The time when my thoughts of suicide were most intense was when I was off of them combined with the pressures of the world around me. Like I said, the anti-depressants didn’t make the thoughts go away but instead regulated them. So when I had initially taken myself off of them, I literally had no control and seemed to be attacked every class period by thoughts of hurting. But this is all because, over time, I had forgotten what is was like to be “okay.” I had not realized until later that I was “okay” the whole time, and that these drugs were preventing my ability to grow mentally/emotionally. Almost the same can be said for when I relieved myself of Ritalin and all other ADHD medications. I literally had forgotten how to learn and focus on my own. Ritalin and others actually do work like they should, it’s just their side-effects cause many things ranging from lack of appetite to depression. Combine that with an anti-depressant and you have someone deemed as “emotionless.” That to me doesn’t really mean lack of all emotion but rather more of an apathy towards emotion as a whole. You still feel it, but it takes more of the good things in life to matter and less of the bad. You overall are disoriented as a human being and have little control over your mind. Psychologists and therapists may beg to differ…but who better to tell you than a person five years off medication he was on for eleven. There are no professionals but the ones like me. There are no voices to listen to other than ours. I have rebuilt my processes and conquered the turmoils of these unnecessary drug’s after effects.

How has being off them enhanced your ability to create — to paint, to write, to do music?

When I think of how these medications affected my creativity…I curse them more than anything else in this world. Before the anti-depressants, my body had become incredibly accustomed to the “dosage of speed”, as I like to call it, given to me daily. I had grown eventually to discover my creative side, which didn’t really surge until the death of my father. But come time when Prozac came into my life, nothing really mattered in terms of writing or drawing because I didn’t want to do it any more. And when I did, all I could create were these horribly in-your-face, cliché thoughts of violence towards religions and people including myself and close ones. So, there I was, unable to escape from these thoughts, and when I thought I was escaping, I really was just making them more visible by putting them on paper. This “coping skill” was more of an excuse for my angst to show. I remained this way until I finally took myself off these medications. The art that followed…there was none. I couldn’t even remember how to put words together to make decent poetry, let alone draw. Since then, I have rebuilt my process of creativity from scratch. And this is frustrating. This is frustrating because I could be at a higher level in terms of art right now. Who knows, I could be a master of still life drawing already, because at the rate I was going, it seemed inevitable, it was all I wanted to do. Though I am frustrated, I am also grateful. I am grateful because I am at a better understanding of where to go in terms of art now. I have also found a form of art that I have more in common with, one which I can truly express myself with; Abstract Expressionism. Furthermore to expand my self expression, I am now working on installation projects and such that pertain to my teenage years and major events amongst them to let others have a better understanding of the world’s impact upon me. So all in all…the medications have both hindered and propelled my art and knowledge of it. Hindered by holding me back at the times in which I was on them but propelled me since the knowledge to follow the period of recovery has given me a better understanding of who I am and what I need to do to get to where I want.

Poem- “Shhh.”

What is this thing? I think they call it a heart, but it’s barely beating and it hasn’t gotten me very far. As a matter of fact, I haven’t taken more than one step away from the broken human being I was four and a half years ago. The arteries are splitting down middle and capillaries have begun to burst. With this red-hot blood of love spitting and spinning everywhere, you think someone would slip on the spin art of my heart. But no, I stand too mature for the majorities and too small in physical form to get that double take. I could never truly apologize for not fitting in, but rather I have to thank you for being so pitiful and close minded, people. I am glad to live amongst the lost and completely corrupted.

And to those who look past my daunting emotionalism and slightly uneasy smile, the beautiful flaws in which only someone digging deep would ignore, you still aren’t very far but rather have just touched one of the hairs among this forever tan skin. And to those who get to dig a little deeper, I will forever have these walls of a castle so tightly secure and you can thank the blue-eyed, blond-haired nymphs in which I have had to endure for too long now. But I’ll never look back to them, not as much I look forward to you; the person who digs the deepest, putting my sureness of life on the brink of emotional base jumper status, bringing me to my knee with more than just diamonds but a throat full of song and what a beautiful one to sing.

Until there comes the day in which I can gently take the shovel from your hands, you beautiful thing who I’ll be so proud of, I will continue to secretly enjoy these moments of self loathing. More so, I will enjoy the fact that I can safely say no to anything I want with a smile gleaming so bright upon my face and that includes the drugs, the drinks, the sex, the thoughts of her, and the fear to follow. So quietly screaming into the drum of my ear; a fallen angel who’s own ear refused my answer to life. So quiet…the rustling of leaves as I drag it into the woods of my memories. So quiet; the sound of such potent liquid pouring amongst her disgusting pores. So quiet; the ash as it begins to rise, rebounding off the tips of branches as it climbs the pale air into the never-ending skies.

So quiet; my mind with you nowhere to be found.

-Mike Detelj

I’ve found it in the archives and annuls of my mind.

When I lay my head unto this pillow, I fear not the possibility of death but rather long for it. I can count her freckles, but get lost in her ever changing eyes. The way her jet black hair so smoothly wraps itself around me as if night were forever is the most comforting thing I have felt in the past three years…putting me to sleep like the prescription pills I never took. My drug, my love…will you be here forever? The girl of my dreams…everything I need smirks back at me and then, as quick as it came, the signal is lost and the satellite floats away on it’s path around my world.

I believe in the future. I believe in our future, girl halfway around my mind. Sleep has never felt so good nor have these drugs in which I have deprived myself of for far too long.

As you come closer, your image becomes more clear and your eyes so much more consistent in color. I didn’t know swimming through emerald was possible let alone so invigorating. The colors around me…..the colors around…..us. While we are underwater, let’s share this bubble and call it home. Together, we’ll float no matter how far apart we are, letting the current take control with the knowledge that one day you and I will meet. We are invincible…more so inevitable.

I’m in love with the girl inside my head, so in love.