Of a friend’s passing, I wrote:
The evening lulled into me hulking chills and a blanket of deep, grey lead for my heart. An odd sense of disconnection and guilt dusted my synapses as my thoughts stretch through the clouds to pierce the sky as though a flame, gently flicked by turbulent wind, grew from my ear.
I forget to speak to the dead sometimes.
A very bad scan of my drawing in-progress.
Grounded deep in labyrinths of roots with thoughts set free through cracked third eye, the earth-man dallies in tectonic dreams.
My ArtPrize submission was off to a stubborn start so I took a break to make some soap and do a small graphite drawing of a forest-beast-man. I may still go back and add some darker shades with an ebony pencil to give it a little more zest, but at the moment I’ll try my hand at painting again. Wish me luck!
I made a picture of a quote my friend Erin from 100 Book in a Year said.