Arman de la Paz

amygdala response
charcoal, graphite

A couple weeks ago, as I was walking from work to my car, a man stopped in front of me, pulled out a small, black pistol, and pointed it at my head. I used to think that I was well prepared to handle situations as this one, but in that moment I was only able to squeak out “dude, what the fuck”. the strange part of this encounter was that the man said nothing to me, didn’t try to rob me, no gestures; he held only a blank stare, the most generic weird psycho movie shit you could think of. And then he walked off. nothing. what the fuck is that!! i still have my keys and wallet and shit and this dude walks off! that shit is so strange. I personally think mr. bitch was on some sort of substance and either hallucinated me as something he didn’t enjoy or that shit kicked in at a very convenient moment. either way i’m thankful as fuck to be alive and continue to make art and enjoy music with all of yall. experiences like these, though they are burdening, also gift me a greater bond with my precious surroundings. my friends hold me tight even when i act like a distant shithead, i’m so happy for my special little tribe, when one monkey doesn’t feel well they all come together and start eating fleas out of each others fur 🛁 im so lucky for life, im gonna start doing more shit more often all the time in case i get shot in the head