Finding a logic that feels like trust.

N. Gaiman walks in and has a sit. After thinking for a bit he councils me.
“You can’t do sentimental,  and you definitely can’t do horror. So don't reinvent the wheel; do your drawing-words gimmick.”

Literary devices, or, when projects list themselves;
• Non-sequitur - write a story of a man flip booking through a encyclopedia or switching the screen from channel to channel at jiffy speed.  
• Build a trilogy that goes together kicking and screaming.
• Arrange for someone to be in the next room trying to get all the attention. 
   My attention.

Random thoughts are misgivings.
Did you hear?
It all seems miles away.  

Life changes fast. Life changes fast.  Life changes fast. 

When it comes to date and time, close enough if often okay with me.

Sometimes, I do not think people need tattoos on their faces. A face is busy enough with what’s already going on. Sometimes I don't.

I’m hoping to have focus and something planned by the time the sugar spikes.


It becomes harder and harder to speak without a pencil and paper in hand.

Un-pragmatic and non-linear. I do that real well.
So, how far have I ever been able to throw myself?

I feel the pull of retreat, every time this time of year. Not that I’ve been much out and about - but more or less. The shorter days call me indoors - to have longer sits and write meandering  sentences with bigger words. 

I’ve done a lot of installation work ... I’ve been inspired by great sculptors and their huge crafty ingenious works, … then mentally backing up, remembering - I’m sort of wanting to make something nice and smooth with the smell of ink. I’m hankering to make  an object I can pick up easily and read without getting splinters. The dream is to sit down at the same time everyday with a beautiful blank book. Without hesitation I will draw an inspiration and write something profound. Too often I’m writing while driving, scraping into the dust, or drawing hits with only a bad pen and a ripped receipt. Train myself to turn on inspiration by calling up a moment.

Art, then, is an elaborate dance around something that can’t be made. 

Add a muffled boom and a ring of smoke appearing at the bottom of the cartoon canyon.