always the work in progress, never the final

I think that sums my self portrait up. It's really quite rotten though, unless you just like looking at under paintings, at thumbnails and doodles. Some people like that. I like that, seeing the grit between the polish. When it's all done it feels so singular and decided. Are you happy with the results? I'm attached to that deciding moment and those inputs of whimsy. So that's what I am, scattered and tethered, framed by my reach. How long could you put up with that? How long will you put up with that? I know the answer, and that's a shame, I'm sure you'd look beautiful when it's all rendered and lit.

in retrospect

I've ridden the pendulum to the other side now, a screaming swing with eyes watering against the journey's breath. Here we are, at the apex, my momentum gone. This smile is etched for life. I want to stay, but that's not how a pendulum works. I could cut the cord and fall to the sand beneath, that would be one way. That's a scary thought, decisiveness in impermanence. If there's one thing I've learned on this side is that my surroundings themselves have their own pendulum. Anything human derived is like this.

Behind me, that's where I'm bound to fall again. This time though, I know it's natural and I won't fight it. I'll tell myself that at least, like an affirmation hoping to trick my mind to ignore my heart. I play a lot of tricks to get myself to do things, but I'd rather not this time.

So mind, body, heart... here me out. If we go back to where we came as hard and as fast as possible we can add momentum. We can push this swing to the snapping point and beyond. It won't break, that string of life, it shines and sings when pulled and plucked. When we reach the other side we'll be deeper and farther than we've ever gone before. That which we've come to loath will be new. More importantly, we'll have given ourselves a running start back to the other side.

I just want more. I need to swing higher.

my favorite trench

Jeremy and Dave have switched seats, but the facial hair remains the same. I've moved to the right, closer to god forsaken Halo machine. I've ordered new headphones to combat this beautiful menace. Alice is a gorgeous beast of a project, I'm already on 10's. This place easily goes to 11, it's itching to. I'm going to need those headphones. My ZRenders are done, back to the trench!

by the numbers now

People lately have been asking me all sorts of numerical factoids about my life. Checkpoints and levels, values confirming my existence... and I feel like I must not exist very well at all because I honestly don't know them.

It's there, I know they all happened but I'm so fuzzy on the details. Time has been a sudden wind, come and gone with such a mix of smells and dust that I at once decided I'd be best off just enjoying the feel in my hair than try to see what was passing by.

And now I'm opening my eyes against a never ending wind to see just where the hell I've ended up; counting the steps. Scary and motivating, I don't know what to think.

sketches while waiting in line for Harry Potter 6

(edit: I'm still getting the hang of blogger... gotta learn how to make thumbnails link to larger things... useful stuff like that... bare with me.)

a Friday night figure drawing jam

Just some drawings from figure drawing this last Friday night! The first pic has some Walt Stanchfield notes on it because the few warmups before this page were severely lacking. Gotta remind yourself what to do sometimes!

and... Go.

"It's so obvious, so pleasantly dumb it can't possibly be there."

Second guessing his own creative individuality he hesitated. Would someone be sitting in his chair upon opening the door? He typed the address. Waiting for the page to answer he thought of his possible usurper.

"I hope they've at least done something with it and it's not just parked."

That was a lie. He'd rather it be stagnant and wasted then have someone else benefit from something he just thought of, even if they did think of it first. Realizing the greed in that he again wished the usurper the best. Another lie, the same lie, retarded karmic preservation. Buddha would see through it.

It loaded.

"No shit."

Nothing. The lights were off and the chair uncomfortable. Again, hesitation. There the page sat white and intimidating. Was this okay? It felt like stealing. What could he make with it? There were infinite possibilities and with that infinite ways to suck. Already the premeditated, spell checked reality of a blog was closing in. He had to get moving fast, but where to start?

"Guns and swords, possibly a dinosaur."

The dinosaur was a tall order, he wasn't very good at drawing those.

"Well that's why I'm here, isn't it?"



A car would be added for good measure.