#charles finn

[nunumculture-blog]

NUNUM’s Spring 2019 issue was fortunate enough to include work from Jordan Faber, Dave Sims, Charles Finn, Daniel Ciochina and Marselienna Von Eschen. https://www.nunum.ca/archive

[nunumculture-blog]

Giant Heart by Charles Finn with art by Dave Sims originally appeared in NUNUM’s Spring 2019 issue - https://www.nunum.ca/archive

[greigferguson]

Don't be fooled by me - Charles C Finn 1967

Please don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by the face I wear, for I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks, masks that I’m afraid to take off and none of them are me. Pretending is an art that is second nature to me, but don’t be fooled, for God’s sake don’t be fooled.

I give you the impression I’m secure and that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name, coolness my game, that water is calm and I’m in command and that I need no one, but don’t believe me, please don’t believe me.

My surface may be smooth, but my surface is a mask–my every varying and ever concealing mask. Beneath it dwells the real confusion, fear and aloneness. Beneath lies my smugness, my complacently, but I hide this–I don’t want anyone to know it.

I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed. That’s why I frantically created a mask to hide behind– nonchalant sophisticated facades to help me pretend– to shield me from the glance that knows– but such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only salvation and I know it. That is if it’s followed by acceptance. If it’s followed by love, it’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self built prison walls and from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect. It’s the only thing that will assure me of what I cannot assure myself, that I’m really worth while, but I don’t tell you this, I don’t dare–I’m afraid to.

I’m afraid that your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love. I’m afraid you’ll think less of me and you’ll laugh and your laugh will kill me. I’m afraid that deep down, I’m nothing and that I’m just no good and that you’ll see this and reject me.

So I play my game; my desperate pretending; with the facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. And so begins the parade of masks, the glittering, but empty parade of masks and my life becomes a front. I idle chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that’s really nothing and nothing of what’s everything and what’s crying within me.

So when I’m through going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I’m saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m not saying–what I’d like to be able to say, but for survival I need to say, but what I can’t say.

I dislike hiding, honestly, I dislike the superficial game I’m playing, the superficial phony game. I’d really like to be genuine, spontaneous and me, but you’ve got to help me, you’ve got to hold out your hand, even when it’s the last thing I seem to want or need.

You can help wipe away from my eyes–the blank stare of grieving dead. You can help call me into aliveness each time you’re kind, gentle and encouraging. Each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings.

Iif you choose to, please choose to. You can help break down the wall behind which I tremble. You can encourage me to remove my mask. You can help release me from my shadowed world of panic and uncertainty. From my lonely prison.

So do not pass me by– please don’t pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A lone conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach me, the blinder I may strike back.

It’s irrational, but despite what books say about man, I am irrational, I fight against the very things that I cry out for, but I am told love is stronger than strong walls. In this lies my hope, my only hope, please help beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands–for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every women you meet.

[karismaganda]

Please Listen to What I am Not Saying

Do not be fooled by me. Do not be fooled by the face I wear. For I wear a mask, I wear a thousand masks. Masks that I am afraid to take off, and none of them is me.

Pretending is an art that is second nature with me. So do not be fooled. For God’s sake, do not be fooled.  

I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without; that confidence is my name and coolness my game; that the water's calm and I'm in command,and that I need no one.

But do not believe me. Please. My outer surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask.Beneath my mask lies no peace, no quiet. Beneath dwells the real me: in confusion, in fear, in aloneness. But I hide this. I do not want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness and my fear of being exposed. That's why I frantically created a mask to hide behind, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance of other people, from your glance.

But such a glance is precisely what will save me. And I know it. That is, if this glance is followed by acceptance, if it is followed by love. Such a glance is the only thing that can free me from my self, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect. It is the only thing that will assure me of what I cannot assure myself-- that I am really worth something.

But I do not tell you this. I do not dare. I am afraid to. I am afraid that your glance will not be followed by acceptance and love. I am afraid that you will think less of me, that you will laugh at me, and your laugh will kill me.I am afraid that deep down I am nothing, that I am just no good, and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game. Outside, a mask of assurance. Inside, a trembling child. And so begins the parade of masks. My life becomes a front. I pretend to talk to you calmly, but that is only a surface talk. I tell you everything that is really nothing, and nothing of what is everything, of what is crying within me. So when I am going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I am saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I am not saying, what I would like able to say, what for survival I need to say, but which I cannot say.

I dislike hiding. Honestly, I dislike the superficial game I am playing, the superficial, phony game. I would really like to be genuine and spontaneous and me.

BUT YOU MUST HELP ME

[linearskies]

[diasporamessenger]

Help Kenyan girl get reconstructive surgery in USA

Help Kenyan girl get reconstructive surgery in USA

A family in Kenya is looking for help and support to bring a young girl, 17 year old Maureen Wanjiku Kimani to the United States for specialized plastic surgery.

Maureen got burned when she was 1 year old,  she underwent plastic surgery at Kijabe Mission Hospita until she was 5 years old but later discontinued without completing all the needed procedures  due to lack of money.

It has been  more…

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[lordmsquoteoftheday]

I tell you everything that is really nothing, and nothing of what is everything, do not be fooled by what I am saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I am not saying.

Charles C. Finn

[bawarementally]

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear for I wear a mask, a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled, for God's sake don't be fooled. I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water's calm and I'm in command and that I need no one, but don't believe me. My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask, ever-varying and ever-concealing. Beneath lies no complacence. Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed. That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows. But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope, and I know it. That is, if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love. It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself, that I'm really worth something. But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to, I'm afraid to. I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me. I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing and that you will see this and reject me. So I play my game, my desperate pretending game, with a facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front. I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying, what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, but what I can't say. I don't like hiding. I don't like playing superficial phony games. I want to stop playing them. I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me but you've got to help me. You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings-- very small wings, very feeble wings, but wings! With your power to touch me into feeling you can breathe life into me. I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me, how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator-- of the person that is me if you choose to. You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble, you alone can remove my mask, you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic, from my lonely prison, if you choose to. Please choose to. Do not pass me by. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back. It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man often I am irrational. I fight against the very thing I cry out for. But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls and in this lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive. Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet. Charles C. Finn September 1966