Reality Strikes.

I love all of my friends.

And from here on in, I will always make an effort to both tell and show them every day.

Don't ever put it off until tomorrow, because who knows if there will be a tomorrow.

Where the Waffle-things Are (or should be).

Paying for oil heat is not a good idea, and I would encourage anyone that has been told otherwise to punch the person saying it right in the head.

Also, make sure your hands are not cold if you're testing the water in a shower before getting in.  You won't realize that there is no hot water until you get in, when suddenly your back is freezing, your hands burning, and your body confused.

The only amusing part of this life-scarring experience is the wretched picture you may or may not take of yourself  to prove your terrible misery to the world.  

But only if you're a vain asshole. ;D

As for "the art thing" (as a girl from work has referred to it), I'm still on slacker-hiatus, but will be back on it again this week.  Mostly because Brian is back from Cancun and I won't have an excuse to browse the web all day instead of make real attempts at being productive.

Really, though?  I blame my lack of waffle consumption.  It's clear that more waffles = more creative thought processes.

So, you know.

Buy me waffles.

Confessions of a Not-So-Teenage Dirtbag

The tricky part about not owning a computer is when you suddenly have full use of one, trying to pry yourself away from it proves to be incredibly difficult.  This results in a lack of productivity, and therefore, I am completely empty-art-handed.

I also find myself a little poor..er.  The internet has reached out to me with its grubby fingers and tricked me into subscribing to Netflix.  I feel as though spending any more time exploring these so-called Series of Tubes may cause permanent damage to my wallet, as well as my innocence.  I mean, $4.99 a minute(or should I say, per browser?) doesn't look quite so bad when the only thing I have to look forward to in my immediate future is walking in the bitter cold for 30 minutes so I can work for 480.  Okay, no, not really.  Because $5 is way too much to pay for any sort of pornography - I know because The West Wing told me so.

On a completely unrelated note, I think it should be said that I am a needy, high-maintenance little turd of a chronic worrier.  Don't ever date me.  The next year is going to be long and dreadful, but I will fight.  Because thanks to Pat Benatar, I am prepared for...well, fighting.

And since this is an "art blog" and I feel obligated to post something of the sort, I have dug up what I think is an appropriate picture I drew back in '05.

So, thank you, P. Benatar.  You have given birth to one of my favorite one-liner-song-titles ever.  These are words to live by, people.

Next up:  Hell is for Children.  Illustrated with or without the Corinthian, I've yet to decide.

Poetic Interpretation Illustration

My favorite thing to do is illustrate another's idea. Whether it be songs, poems, stories, spoken word, or even art, the amount of fun I have creating my own images from them is immeasurable.

Lately in particular, due to circumstances involving my personal life(teehee), I've felt extremely...inspired. I came across the following poem by Margaret Atwood, and managed to produce one of the best watercolors I've painted in weeks (I really need to start using brushes to ink more often.) I'll be scanning it in full color, later on. (:

Variations of the Word Sleep

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

Transatlanticism - DC for C.

the atlantic was born today and i'll tell you how:
the clouds above opened up and let it out.

i was standing on the surface of a perforated sphere when the water filled every hole.
and thousands upon thousands made an ocean, making islands where no island should go.

those people were overjoyed; they took to their boats.
i thought it less like a lake and more like a moat.
the rhythm of my footsteps crossing flood lands to your door have been silenced forever more.
the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row; it seems farther than ever before..

i need you so much closer.