Behind every creative person there is a looming shadow of spiders and ghosts and other scary things. I suppose you could call it insecurity. During SNL 40, did you see that ad with the feather creature which is actually an “idea”? It’s so sad and limp when it’s neglected or made fun of. And I thought to myself, that’s so true! The creative spark inside of us is so easily bruised. Maybe its because the rest of the people in the world do useful things like build bridges, and it’s hard to remember that when you are someone who is solely good at drawing cartoons.
When I get to feeling limp like this is when I stare wistfully out of windows. But then all it takes is one compliment or speckle of encouragement to make me feel those rainbows! My tail feathers light up just like that feather creature’s tail feathers. I feel like I have been put here to draw my cartoons! And you know, I honestly do think that there is room for everyone. Bridge builders, doctors, car salesmen, strippers, nuns, comedians, cartoon draw-ers, etc. It’s good!
Just remember that people like me are made of both rainbows and spiders, which hang in some sort of delicate balance most of the time. Even the tiniest smile helps, so go compliment that person who is always posting their poems or fancy photographs on Facebook!
Two days ago I realized what I am.
It’s what, I’m realizing now, I’ve always been but never quite put together. Now I know! I can’t remember what caused this clicking-into-place, but I’m so grateful. Before, my creative identity felt rather amorphous – Artist/Illustrator/Writer/Humorist/??? Way too many slashes. But now!
And it makes sense, as I look back over myself. Maybe it’s obvious. I read every Far Side and Calvin & Hobbes and Foxtrot anthology as a kid. I was obsessed with manga as an acne riddled junior high school student. I was “in to” graphic novels from ages 15 to 18 (anything that Fantagraphics Books or Draw & Quarterly put out… I had my hands on it.) When I draw, a distillation of all of the above is what appears on the paper. And maybe a few other things.
It’s been unseasonably sunny and warm these past few days in the PNW, and I feel good. I know what the mountain I am walking towards looks like!
Cheer me on?
SATURDAY JANUARY 10th
Cozy morning – wet outside, inside warm with flannel robe and loose wool socks. Finished my book (Gone Girl) last night. Too sensational/climatic towards the end. Felt rushed and so excitable. The kind of book that is written to go to Hollywood. I don’t hold the highest respect for that form. Pretty good writing though, creative VERBS and not overdone with lame-yet-hoping-to-be-interesting-ADJECTIVES. The kind of book that offers escape, a portal from whatever’s going on in your real life. It’s nice to have that on a cozy morning when it’s wet outside.
Last October I ran away. I felt as though I had completely annihilated my life as I knew it for various reasons which I won’t go into here, so I decided to keep-on-keeping-on (and yes, I did listen to “Tangled Up in Blue” too many times in a row.) I needed to GO anywhere, so I did.
I worked on a boat for three months. From NYC to Jacksonville, and then I hopped over to the Mississippi. Seven days a week, fourteen hours a day. It was hard, but good. I didn’t read or write or draw – I just worked.
During this time I learned the following things: the Mississippi River is mostly boring and brown, a “Pickleback” is comprised of a shot of Jameson followed by a shot of pickle juice and is truly delightful – particularly after a lot of drinks, about 70% of New Orleans is voodoo and/or Tom Waits reincarnations (both male and female) and a first tattoo feels like fire.
So now I am back and ready to create. Bursting at the seams, rather. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me!
He did not want them themselves really. They were too complicated. There was something else. Vaguely he wanted a girl but he did not want to have to work to get her. He would have liked to have a girl but he did not want to have to spend a long time getting her. He did not want to get into the intrigue and the politics. He did not want to have to do any courting. He did not want to tell any more lies. It wasn’t worth it.
“Soldier’s Home,” In Our Time, E. Hemingway, 1925
Aint it the truth. After war, after someone good. What weary.
Kent police arrested a man for investigation of a fourth-degree assault after he reportedly punched a roommate who accused him of stealing food from a refrigerator.
Officers responded to a dispute at about 4:31 p.m. on Sept. 21 at a home in the 24500 block of 104th Avenue Southeast, according to the police report.
A man told police his roommate had stolen his food from the refrigerator, eaten it and then punched him after he accused him of taking the food. An officer noted the man was bleeding from his face and head.
The roommate who threw the punches had bloody knuckles. When asked how his knuckles got bloody, the man told the police, “I beat his ass.” The man denied eating the food and claimed the other man hit him first.
The report didn’t indicate what kind of food the roommates fought over.
The Kent Reporter, October 3, 2014
This is a clip from Seattle newspaper, The Stranger. The article is about a grungy independent theater having a grand reopening and what people feel about that.
So, this guy’s reminiscing about watching porn there.
“Oh yeah, and speaking of dicks: They showed a 3-D porn from the ’70s one time. The 3-D wasn’t so good, but the movie was. If I remember correctly, the opening scene is a guy in a helicopter flying around. He spots a naked woman on a mountain, lands the helicopter, and gets out, and they have sex. I don’t think they speak. There were maybe 10 people in the theater when I went. At some point, somebody in one of the back rows started giving somebody a blowjob. They weren’t hiding it. Everybody there took off their 3-D glasses and watched. When the guy came, he screamed ‘YESSSSSSSSSSS,’ but it was like he was in pain. And everyone clapped.”
– T. Moorman, The Stranger, 10/01/2014