Thursday, 10 October 2013

In which the artist asserts that he is a 'slow burn' and cannot be expected to leave any immediate impression on the crowd, to general booing

Something that I drew half an hour ago. I wanted to draw freely not caring about lines or words, after an evening of tighter drawing on this...

 A sketchbook page from today. 

I have to dig my way out, I'll use pen and paper... then build a rocket ship to the moon, once I'm there I'll take off my helmet and quit. The Inscription on Bukowski's grave reads "don't try"... But occasionally  I still feel the need to.   

Yesterday I finished reading Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon. It was good. Very good. pretty much every Chabon book I've read thus far has been enjoyable, particularly Kavalier & Clay, Wonderboys, and Manhood For Amateurs. I thought The Yiddish Policeman's Union was just fine, and good in parts, and I liked his short stories, though can't remember any of them offhand. He uses the same themes without them ever feeling in the slightest overused. A rare talent indeed. Ho hummn.

A list of things no one will understand or care for if you ask them:

 - the price of a medium size free range egg on saturn.
-The size of my feet as a twelve year old.
-The best route to Alderaan from Dundee.
-The cost of a glass of semi-skimmed milk in a pub.

       Calvin Frazier: This Old Worlds in A Tangle

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