I'm currently open for commissions: full body pin-ups (simple or no backgrounds) for $25. Examples here---> [link] [link] [link] Drop me a note if you're interested!

Work, paint, work, paint, work, move furniture, work, hang curtains, work, paint, etc, etc, etc.

Ah, running a hamster wheel is the epitome of all I wanted out of life.


So, is the world gonna end in 2012, or 2060? I mean technically the Mayan calender never said anything about the end of the world, and Isaac Newton was pretty clear in that regard... he was a pretty smart fellow, too.



Well, I'm gonna shoot for 2060... there's a whole crapload of stuff I really want to do before I die, and I just don't think I can cram it into three years. Especially not at the pace I'm moving at now. :/

Here's to 2060-ism!

I learned many years ago that I need to take notes of my thoughts, because I am hopelessly absent-minded and ideas will slip out of my head to never be seen again if I don't. I've lost so many concepts and conversations that way, only to stare in agony at a sketch that I know had a point once, but its original meaning is gone somewhere in idea-oblivion. At first it was a mountainous effort, because the only thing that nearly equals my absent-mindedness is my lack of organization and hatred of notes. But I proudly pushed past that obstacle, and I took notes of every idea that was complete enough to put into words, and even some abstract thoughts that really make no sense outside my own brain. Great concepts, ridiculous ones, serious, funny... everything went down, until my sketchbooks started to resemble John Nash's walls in a Beautiful Mind. It almost became a schizophrenic frenzy, at work I'd have to stop what I was doing to jot something down. Driving could turn me into a neurotic mess out of fear that I'd lose my thought before I got home to a pencil and paper. Everywhere I went I'd come home with a small library of scraps in my purse. Now, aside from the inevitable few pieces that I lose (there's no hundred percent protection from absent-mindedness), I can scour these sketchbooks any time and I have my stories laid out to remind myself and/or to pick at without worry that my brain altered any information without permission. It's perfect. Almost.

I've found that no matter how thorough my notes are, how miniscule the details I take down are, I never manage to capture every thought. Sometimes I'll sift through the mire to remember a key conversation, and all the words are there, but I feel a flitting memory of a gesture I had in mind that absolutely completed the scene... but I didn't get it down. So I start drawing little sketches next to the text, but next time I'll go through it all again to find that I can't quite remember the setting I originally had in mind. Because you can write "diner", or even "50's diner with floor to ceiling windows, blue accents, a fake marble counter, and an overweight blond waitress with a handlebar mustache", but that doesn't mean you'll picture the same diner you imagined in the first place when you read the notes a year later. And it's really. Goddamn. Frustrating.

So in the end I spend more time trying to manage a way to remember my ideas, and I somehow never get around to fulfilling them. I've developed a case of prep-work ocd, but stunted my ability to polish. I can brainstorm and write and sketch, but I can't outright create because my notes are never finished. In attempting to conquer a fault that prevented me from creating finished pieces, I have borne a monster of a habit that prevents me from creating finished pieces.

Anyway... I've spent too much time away from my notes, must get back... finish... before I forget...




Goddamnit.

And the sun hit the derrick and cast a bat wing shadow
up against the car door on the shot gun side
and when they pulled her from the wreck you know she
still had on her shades
they say that dreams are growing wild just this side of
burma shave

Holy. Shit.



[link]







O.O