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

Un-pragmatic + 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 + about - but more or less. The shorter days call me indoors - to have longer sits + write meandering sentences with bigger words. 

… i’ve done a lot of installation work. i’ve been inspired by the work of great sculptors + their huge crafty ingenious works … then mentally backing up, remembering … i’m wanting to make something nice + smooth w/ the smell of ink. i’m hankering to make an object i can pick up easily + read w/out getting splinters. The dream is to simply allow myself to call up a moment, sit down at the same time everyday w/ a beautiful blank book. W/out hesitation i will draw an inspiration + write something profound. Too often i’m writing while driving, scraping into the dust, or drawing hits w/ only a bad pen on a ripped receipt.

i echo here...

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

+ the audible muffled boom echos the ring of smoke ballooning up form the bottom of the cartoon canyon.