These used to be green

Breathe. Just focus on your breath.

You're doing okay, it's new.

Fold the napkin on the diagonal.
Fork, Fork, Knife.

She put you on her wall.

Only ten more to go.

Today was much better.

Roll it tight.

You're fine.

Breathe.

Midnight Phone Call

"No, Music is fine"

He's still shocked I picked up. I can hear him picking his words carefully.

"You have.. I just worry that you aren't focusing on anything."

I want to go back to school

Now and then, someone will write in the comments that young artists don't need tools. They just need their own God-given creativity and their beautiful natural-born styles. They needn't hamper themselves with knowledge and techniques that were learned through trial and error by experts over decades. The young genius artist wants to start from scratch and make all the same mistakes that thousands of more talented artists had long ago learned to correct.

Every artist of course has the right to do whatever he wants. Every builder does too. You could poopoo hammers as cramping your creativity and try to punch nails into wood as you attempt to build a house in a completely new way without even a plan. It's not against the law or anything. - But good luck in ever finishing it or having it stand up by itself.

But it eludes my reasoning why anyone would want to choose to have absolutely no control over their finished products. Skills, practice, knowledge and tools put you way ahead of your competitors.

You have a much wider freedom of creative choices if you understand the basic tools of your trade.

-John Kricfalusi

a man without a dream

We sat around the dining room table. Papers folded and marked were strewn about. Everyone's eyes were red and wet with laughter. I knew only a few of them, but we were bound together in that moment sharing a love of the absurd, reveling in our inadequacies.

After our game, two friends (one old, one new) chatted about plans and opportunities. Directions and dreams. I sat with rapt attention to my friend's drunk words spilling on the table with our papers. She has such a vision of where she is and where she wants to be. I left envious with a drawing stashed in my pocket,