I'm not quite sure what my exact intent was when I first created the site (then called BillyArt), and I'm not really sure what I am hoping to accomplish with it now. I am not proud of the content I put up here. I am by no means a decent artist, and I write about as well as a talking chimp, but I continue to add content to this site. Its existence even baffles me.
I guess, really, this site is just an outlet for the things that I can't find any other way to deal with.
Years ago, I seemed to understand what it was I was dealing with (or at least I thought I did), and the result was long-winded written documents that fall under the indiscriminant umbrella of poetry's prose category, and a few artistically-challenged pictures. However nowadays nothing seems to be easy to describe, or even understand, let alone write about.
Content is generally added when there is a specific emotion feeling, or state of mind that I can't quite comprehend, but don't want to let go of, that's the best way I can describe it. I seem to write stories in my head, or have a snapshot of it in my mind. If I have the time, I try to draw, or write, or play music, or whatever it takes to try and grasp it.
Some of these stories I have tried to get down in the form of a legitimate comic or story, but that's so time consuming and slow I usually abandon the work in progress shortly after it begins, so the real result is a single picture, or series of pictures that somehow find their way to Billy's Junk.
Every image, for me, holds a snapshot of a story memory, or emotion, and many of them are very painful to look at (and not just because they are so poorly drawn).
In the end, all in one way or another, this entire site is my way of coping with my own consciousness.
(But that's not to say every now and then I stay up so late that something I draw actually starts to look like a decent work of art, due to my own sleep deprivation. I usually put those up that night, see them in the next day or two, and think to myself, "What in the crap was I thinking?")