I learned my lesson.

I won't let it happen again. I'm worth more than that.

Our souls wear the same name tag.

"Look," he said. "Just a second," I said. The screen was filled with characters and our hands were filled with controllers. "Look up there," he said. "Just a second," I said. We were full of friendship and beer. The tickle-fights were second nature.

Days later we were sober and in his room again – "Look," he said.

I did. I saw a piece of paper the size of his palm. It was the picture of a flower I'd given him a year and a half ago. He explained that it'd been above his closet since I'd given it to him. I looked at him and remembered that summer day. I took a slice of paper into his backyard with a pencil nub and drew one of his mother's daisies. It was a spur of the moment scribble. I gave him a flower that'd never wilt and his room wore it like an award.

Life Drawingz!

So I'm going to be done my portfolio by Tuesday or Wednesday this coming week. I'm starting to narrow down what life drawings I may use. I'll attend Monday's session for all three hours to get as many last-minute drawings as I can. The funny thing is I learned more about life drawing from critiques with my painting teacher than my actual life drawing teacher. Stupid, eh? Anyway... these are in order of how long they took to draw, ranging from 30 seconds to 20 minutes. Ten is sufficient to get enough information on paper. After that I get frustrated and don't know what to do with the extra time. At that point I usually use my stick of contè on my friends faces...

30 Seconds





















5 Minutes


























10 Minutes

20 Minutes

Purple parsnip. No. No? No. ...Shit.

He told her that his goal in life was to have fun. She asked whether he had any bigger goals in mind. He said he didn't and that he enjoyed having fun and it was working for him, so why change that? She didn't answer, but after that day they didn't see each other again. She didn't find him fun anymore.

She lit vapor on fire.

Listen; Saeglopur, Sigur Rós

Upon the porch she perched and craned her neck like a bird. Here the wind sang. It brought snow on its wings. She cooed hoarsely in concurrence as smoke straggled from her cusped lips. Her defined digits clutched the rusted bar like a branch and she swung her legs between their stalks like a child in a tree. The flavor of tobacco ripened her fingertips and rotting metal colored her opposing hand. An ordinary Thursday turned epic when she savored the day by scorching the sky with her iron battle cry.

I cut my own hair now.

Listen; Sex Ruins Everything, Kind of Like Spitting

ASD:LFJLEfksdflsk.

Nicholas Di Genova, my artist-personality idol of all time, has a blog. Go. See. Splooge. Be happy.

It's not about how pretty you are.

Listen; Falling From Grace, Gentle Waves


I don't smile as much as I used to but by God... I have more to lose than I ever did before.

The Bhagavad Gita 13:15-18

"It is both near and far, both within and without every creature; it moves and is unmoving. In its subtlety it is beyond comprehension. It is indivisible, yet appears divided in separate creatures. Know it to be the creator, the preserver, and the destroyer.

Dwelling in every heart, it is beyond darkness. It is called the light of lights, the object and goal of knowledge, and knowledge itself.

I have revealed to you the nature of the field and the meaning and object of true knowledge. Those who are devoted to me, knowing these things, are united with me."

The queen who wades through snow for dogs.

It's not every day you see a hawk kill a squirrel, help a man find his dog, and are called a queen by some random old lady.

I also found out the local Baptist church has a single service on Sunday at 10:30. I would've preferred to go as early as possible in the morning, but what more can I ask for? It's a Baptist church that's directly across from the school. Arwen's definitely attending tomorrow's service.

Besides that, I started working on the final draft of my exterior of a historical building for my portfolio. It's going swimmingly. If I keep it up I may even get it done tonight! I'll post it when I'm done. The rest of my portfolio is coming along. I met with Ted (an actual instructor in the illustration department) to show him what I have so far and he had mostly positive remarks for me. Actually, he had less constructive to say than I wanted. You'd think that would be a good sign, but to me it just means he had little to say and that doesn't help me improve.

I'm forbidding myself from playing video games until after the review. When I take a break from art, I rest my wrist by watching TV or doing something passive. Video games are just tearing at my tendons more - at that rate I'd require tensor bandages and limited artistic ability for a few weeks after the review. That'd bite me worse in the ass than skipping class to go to life drawing this next week. Anyway, that's just a small update on my life. I also bought a plant when I went grocery shopping last week. He's pretty and green. Name suggestions, anyone?

The palette of a grown-up.

Success has no merit when it is rated on marital status or grade point average. Somebody, someone will tilt your head in a new direction. It tastes like the vintage, warm leather of nostalgia while maintaining a crisp edge of unawareness. Here, where the necks stretch long and bare themselves like bellies to the scurf of society; here where the pallid cats arch their backs under bridges - it is a naked world full of error. But something lingers like a tic of déjà vu. The gesticulation of a hand, the angle of a particular laugh, and the sound of a smile, they titillate your memory. Some people balk from memory as if it were leprous. What hope have they for tomorrow's promise if they disregard yesterday's incentive?

A color changes shape like a face over time. It maintains the same hue but its impression is altered. When once you saw yellow and thought of sunshine and canaries, now it bares the reminding husk of the rich-yellow iodine they use to sterilize skin. Another organic pattern surfaces here, where the cats sing songs about what it is like to live in a crown of hands.

Love knows no boundaries.

My heart is smeared like soft butter on the sleeve of every person I meet. No one holds my heart in all its wet, beating glory... no man can still the light in my eyes.

Orange Tapestry in the Train Station

Listen; Heaven, Lamb

Pardon the steers; they build a pallor line of anger across the cobblestone bridge. It's been a long time since we hung our legs here and looked down at the river. A sound like rusty joints breaks our ears but we don't stir much – we're afraid of upsetting this moment we occupy. The steers wheeze at the pasty-faced moon, their heavyset horns turned outward like spears. You toss your hair and the frogs orchestrate their gratitude for the gold that trembles over your forehead. The night has a flavor. It tastes like radishes and Kool-Aid. A steer gives us his life and we borrow the gesture of grass.

You scold me for not answering your question. I ask with a smile in my voice what you ask of me. You say, "Lovin' and missin' you." I laugh, "I love and miss you too."

My portfolio is due in two weeks and four days.

Listen; Drive, Elliott

I've grown a lot since I moved away from home five months ago. I understood how important it was to be strong for myself before, but it was amplified when I was displaced from my birthplace. When you're apart from your friends and family, you're suspended by your own set of strings that you're responsible for. If one snaps, you can't ignore it like you sometimes used to at home and let someone else fix it. If you neglect any area of your life, every single string is put under strain and you run the risk of having them all snap. If you think it's hard to fix one of them individually, consider how difficult it'll be to climb back up and put all your strings back together so that you'll be able to balance your life all over again. In some cases it's literally impossible to regain the structure that kept you up.

It would be easy to crawl back home if you fell down. It's so much simpler to fall into the cradle of a familiar embrace and let someone else bare the burden of your hardship. You know very well that there are people in your life that care about you that much, so it's easy to take advantage of it if you don't have the fortitude to go through with it alone. But instead, when my strings begin to fray or when they happen to break, I maintain them alone. It's not like I don't depend on my friendships – I do. But I hold myself responsible for my own life, and only offer those people every ounce of support and love I'm capable of... because everyone's strings are different. Some are hardy enough to keep merchant vessels moored to great docks, while others bare innumerable wiry knots from the frequency of repair.

I want to be the one to moor vessels ashore. I'm able to help and support you no matter what difficulty you're going through. I care about you very much. If you find yourself fraying and too tired to tend to your strings alone, please know that I love you as reliably as the westerly, prairie wind... and I always will.

I can't look home full in the face.

It spilled out of me in an angry current of washed out red. Was that blood? Oh dear God, was there blood in my vomit? I clutched the bowl of the toilet, hoping in vain that my body would forgive me. Merciless and vengeful, it made me sore with sickness. I craved the satisfaction of my bed's embrace but my decrypt state demanded my ardent vigil in the bathroom. The painful pressure of sour rejection scorched my throat again and caused tears to fork down my face. I was glad I wasn't home for this. I was glad I was alone to guiltily drape across the sink and sluice my mouth with tap water. I couldn't believe the pitiful broken woman staring in an unfocused stupor back at me. She looked desperate, tired, and hurt. I'm so glad my mother can't see me now...

Irony, Irony

I ran honey, but I laughed the whole way down.
Irony. Irony.

We're strung together on the same bough.

Lemon-eyed lady, you're poised and ready to release a fit of sour song. He clutches the grate, some lime-eyed lad; he's waiting and waiting and waiting.

My Portrait Trained Instrument

A line of destiny written in red
Skin puckered and firm, it said:
"I remember the rawness of your throat
I felt it ache through every word you wrote.
I know the fear that sliced wet, angry streaks
Down and past your ruddy, shuddering cheeks.

"Had the phone otherwise rung
Would you be left gulping unstrung?
But that's a consideration not worth making
Because I mark you as a remainder of loving;
Cast through stitches and a benign cradle,
You may return to your wistful mantel.

"Let your ebony brown eyes slice past frost
Smile; bring another love crossed to accost.
Buoy every single day like a leaf in the rain.
Passion for life isn't that difficult to regain!
Let me be the inch and a half signature
That forces you to spiritedly unfetter."

Beyond that narrow span of scarred tissue
I felt a significant portion of me ensue:
A portrait is drawn of enigmatic design
A rare composition filled with sensitive line
I felt the brush of his nimble-fingered hand
Strung in rhythm and song of my homeland.

Seven Deadly Sins II

I don't like this one nearly as much as gluttony, but whatever. 'Not to mention the lighting conditions today are much less than optimal so the colors are effed. Either way; we've covered gluttony so which deadly sin do you suppose this one is? I'll give you a hint: it's not lust. Heh.

Seven Deadly Sins

For our first 2nd term assignment in 3D we were supposed to choose three of the seven deadly sins and create three separate pieces of them for a nameless magazine article. They were supposed have a square 'backdrop'. Based on some roughs I sketched up a few weeks ago I made my first of the three just a few minutes ago. From start to finish it took me four hours. Can you figure out which sin this one is?

Pigs disgust me. At least, in food form they do.