fish heads filled with dimes

my beloved princeton no.1 brush bit the dust as i was finishing this drawing. i lost all the fine detail out of the bottom, like i was inking with one of those basting brushes. i struggled to pull it together, riding on a strand or two but...no. it's kind of a mess down there. also, what was i thinking with that odd shape? i should have just squared it off.

my first instinct was to just throw this away. but i probably should stop doing that.

drawings started in 2011: 692
drawings finished in 2011: um, 5?

boat to portugal

i've decided i can't be blowing $40 - $50 a week on a bottle of scotch, so i've switched to my other new passion which is port wine. there is no port revolution, but i guess that's because the new york times hasn't featured an article on it yet. i have to listen all day to people talking about this "islay craze" and frankly i have no idea what they're talking about. i tell them: come back to me when there's a port craze! my ass is on a boat to portugal right now.

right now, if you were wondering, i'm enjoying a bottle of graham's fine tawny (my third or fourth glass, no doubt, but who's counting?) trying to get my scanner to scan these drawings over here. you know, the drawings i've been talking about? my cats, who are lovely creatures and who i consider to be, like, my developmentally-challenged children, have taken to sinking their little teeth into the power cord of my scanner. which makes it do funny things sometimes. and by "funny things" i mean not functioning properly. i could go out and just get a new cord, but then i wouldn't have anything to complain about.

that's what you think!

ah, who would we have if we didn't have each other?

wet paper bags and stuff.

1. sorry, no drawings again today. i did draw something, though. you can probably guess what it looked like if you've seen the other drawings. nothing earth-shattering. a bunch of lines and stuff. i'll post them eventually.

2. but i'd like to talk about why i am a terrible singer.

you've seen them around. mostly on tv, i guess. they have these shows featuring people who want to sing. and some of them can sing. but most of them cannot. and they get in front of people and they think they are going to knock people's socks off but very often they do not. and then their dreams are shattered. because they believe in themselves and it's probably the only thing they've ever wanted to do. ever. and they can't see themselves doing anything else. what else is there? nothing.

but the reality is they are terrible. and isn't that sad? think about it: it's the only thing, the most important thing ever and you're no fucking good at it.

some people, defiantly, soldier on not giving a fuck what people think. and some people pack it up and go get, like, a job and shit to pay their bills.

frank frazetta was a great singer. maybe one the best there ever was. also, will eisner was a great singer. changed the way people looked at singing, if you think about it. these are just two examples of great singers. and history has smiled upon them. because i can mention them and you know who i'm talking about.

anyway, what i'm getting at here, is that i am a terrible singer. once, i hummed something in perfect pitch but i can't explain that any more than i can explain how you drag a needle through a groove on a record and it produces sound. no clue. can't wrap my brain around it. but being a terrible singer (and at least i can admit it!) doesn't stop me from singing. i mean, i don't sing in front of people. it's embarrassing. i do enough shit that embarrasses me, i certainly don't need to add something else to the mix. you want to see me embarrass myself? erm, just hang out with me for about 5 minutes. it'll happen.

when people aren't around, though, i like to occasionally "sing along" as they say. but, really, i am terrible.

it's better to have loved and scotch'd than to never have scotch'd at all

1. my new "thing" is scotch. that's what i'm drinking. scotch. i'm not really sure it's worth mentioning. i'm not a particularly serious drinker, which is maybe why it is worth mentioning (just in case you were worried about me). it's expensive. and i like it. the glasses get bigger and bigger every time i pour one. it's getting darker outside. the end is near. and it's not even winter.

dear diary, i'm kidding.

but not about the scotch, obviously.

2. i think i made it a rule with myself that i would never post anything here unless it contained an actual drawing. but i am not posting a drawing and i broke my own rule. so, sorry. i generally don't care to post anything but drawings (because who gives a shit about what i have to say about anything anyway), but hear we are, together, and not a drawing in sight. well, maybe some below, but you've already seen those. you could read about much i like scotch.

i won't do that to you, i swear.

3. doodle attack 2 is finished. it's been finished for awhile. but for some reason i don't feel particularly compelled to get it printed anymore. that's funny, right? took me a year and half to finish it (but that's better than the 10 years it took me to get the first one out, i suppose) and now i don't care. anyway, the good (?) news is that i started the third one. so, expect to see that...well, we don't have to talk about that now. i understand.

i'm kidding about the not caring part. i do care. i care about you. are you eating right? i'm worried about you. maybe you should lay off the ice cream. i know how much you love ice cream. i love ice cream. and scotch.

4. these dudes from viral graphics are putting out a zine next year of black and white art and they asked me to be a part of it and, guess what, i am and i even answered some questions and they are terrible, terrible answers and it makes me realize that i am not particularly good at answering questions nor am i particularly interesting unless, of course, i am fucking wasted which i don't think i was when i answered the questions but now i don't remember.

i'm going to be honest: i love run-on sentences.

anyway, every single person who is contributing to the project is, like, a real artist and shit so i am not really sure what i'm doing in there, but those guys are super nice and asked to me to do it and how could i turn them down? i could not!

5. but where are the drawings?

6. do you think i should have gone to college? maybe i should have gone to college.

7. i seemingly have an uneasy relationship with, uh, everything. but right now i'm just wasting time. which brings us to

8. did you see that? it's as big as a house.

9. i can't think of anything else interesting to write.

10. i should have stopped at #1!

(i'll be back to tomorrow. but regrets are for today.)

then there's what the scientists are doing...

i spent about an hour typing words out underneath these two drawings and then deleted it all. if you don't think these drawings are interesting, then you're certainly not going to find anything that i have to say interesting and it doesn't matter anyway.

right?

anyway, everyone knows that i talk to much. it's, like, a scientific fact.

no one likes the weird kid who sits by himself

everything is terrible

my brain tells me that if i don't complete a cover for (doodle attack #2), i will never finish the rest of it. so, in a way, i've compromised with myself. yes, it's getting worse, my tearing up drawings before i finish them. often times, it's when i'm very, very close to finishing. in the trash they go.

i have no idea what number cover this. i'd like to think it's 50. (it's probably not 50.) a lot of times when i'm doing this stuff i start to freak out because i just assume i'm drawing the same thing over and over again (well, in a way, i am) but what i have a hard time figuring out is did i really draw it before or did i draw it before and then throw it in the trash? i mean, does it really exist? and then i usually black out and wake up hours later, sometimes in a strange alleyway. naked. alone. cold.

tempted as i am to discuss certain things about this drawing, i am thankfully rescued by common sense and my desire to not bore the piss out of anyone (let's be honest, does it really matter?). i mean, come on. the only thing worse than having to look at someone's crappy art, is having to listen to them talk about it.  blah blah blah this represents blah blah blah what i was trying to convey here blah blah blah. maybe when we're all older and we have nothing to do we can talk about it. but, hey, i know you're busy so i'm going to go.