This is street dog.
Your leg muscles are just meat to street dog.
Street dog is gonna’ take a nibble when you aren’t looking.
Street dog keeps it ruff.
Don’t mess with street dog.
You want it? You can have it.
Are you sure you can carry it?
I’ll help you if I can.
I’m not trying to trick you.
I can be wrong.
I don’t need to win an argument.
People don’t really need to talk so much.
Just as well to bark.
You think people into what they are to you anyways.
If you hang around someone who thinks you’re a loser long enough–and you care about them–then you are a loser.
Let them have it.
I’m going to go be wrong somewhere far, far away from here.
And I’ll be wrong and alright.
We’ll all be alright.
Or at least we’ll be alright with not being alright.
Things we think we know about a person, relative to what we think we know about ourselves, relative to what we think we know about the world.
Ghosts, judging ghosts, judging dust.
So I stopped trying to answer their questions.
Even better, I stopped trying to explain myself to myself.
I built my own monolith in a field.
Mountains from dirt.
Incredible for no reason, and to no person.
Winds in any direction still lift, after all.
So tell me, what’s the difference.
Better yet, don’t.
It can be a little unnerving when the walls you spent so long building up get washed away in a high tide. Like you’re building with sand, and making no progress.
It’s no matter though, you always knew the walls were built out of sand.
You don’t find comfort in thinking they’ll protect you from getting washed away.
You find comfort in knowing they can be rebuilt.
Image note: This is a re-work of my previous post ‘Tracheal’ in preparation for its addition to the Super National store on Society6. All new colors and textures in 6k resolution for those who enjoy scrutiny! I actually ended up liking it a lot more than the original.
So happy the ‘Showtime: Whatever, Whoever, Whenever.’ print posted yesterday was selected by Society6 to be part of their official shop. It comes with a special deal you can check out here:
Thanks for your support, hope you enjoy. Hoping to finish another yet to be determined illustration today so look out for that!
I’m sorry, I know I’m not making enough money to keep the wolves fed. I know my finances are kind of a mess, I feel bad about that. Just understand that I had–have no choice. I have to wake up every day and do what I love, I just don’t see any way around that. I can never forget that I only have one life, and that I can’t waste it. It’s something inside me that I can’t ignore.
Don’t worry, the money will come. I’ve been preparing this stage for a while now. I just had to make sure I got it right. I can’t end up like Robin Williams, hung out in a mansion. I had to keep following that voice, no matter what, in spite of everything. I had to do what I knew would make me happy, no matter how ignorantly idealistic.
But the tickets are on sale for the show now. Spotlights are beaming into the low fog. I’m ready to show the world what I can do. Ready to leave their doubts behind me.
You know, in High School, there was this kid I hated more than anyone. I remember suppressing the urge to throw a punch once or twice. It kept me up at night.
But for the life of me.. I can’t remember his face.
So I wonder,
What was all the hate for…
So don’t ask me if I’m doing okay.
Ask me if I’m looking forward to waking up tomorrow.
The answer is yes.
Do you know where your kids are right now?! Probably about to ingest a Marijuana cookie! Panic now! Call everybody! It’s probably too late they’re already dead! Why didn’t they listen!
A moment of silence for everyone we lost to the Marijuana this year…
God protect us from the children and their skateboards–amen.
Happy Fourth of July!
Image note: it’s animated. If you can’t see it you’re either on mobile or have eye cancer.
Don’t have $413.99 plus tax an hour to spend on a licensed professional counselor? Super Nervous Cow is now offering free personal and professional advice online here! (It’s a link)
Could a well founded, sourced, and educated argument be made that you shouldn’t take advice from me? Yes.
What are my qualifications for advising you, academic or otherwise? Nope.
Will you take advice from me anyways? That’s between you and your psychiatrist or therapist.
It goes without saying that I cannot be held responsible for what you do with the advice you are presented. Some advice may be given in the form of poorly drawn pictures, I also cannot be held responsible for how you interpret those pictures. Keep in mind that If my advice in some sick miraculous irony leads to your success in life, you are required by law to send me an emotionless and pragmatic thank you note with your printed signature.
Image note: it’s animated and doesn’t work in some mobile situations. No pictures in motion for all people in motion. Sorry!
My convictions are a long and heavy train, ready to change course, and utterly unstoppable in its forward momentum.
Get on the train, I love company. Hook your own train car on the back. Throw things at the train. Yell at the train. Hop in front of the train. It makes no difference to me. There’s plenty of coal and a raging fire.
The dance will continue to the end of the track.
Image Note: Inspired by D.A.N.C.E. MSTRKRFT Remix ( Link )
It’s going to be a little hard to type this, I fractured two of my fingers in a high speed skateboarding accident involving myself (henceforth referred to as the plaintiff) and the ground (henceforth referred to as the defendant) of which you can view the aftermath here. Not to worry, I can still draw. Pending evidence I could draw prior to the accident of course.
The defendant is expected to have a swift recovery from his or her injuries as well. I digress.
I never was a magical thinker. Never believed in the paranormal. I think that always gave everyone the impression that I was a little bit pessimistic. After all the realities of life are a large and unbearably painful fire to stand next to, one that we all have to back away from sometimes. Maybe it’s TV, games, drugs, prescriptions, sugar, attention, consumption, adrenaline, or just old fashioned debauchery and religion. The great unmet dark that we all must fill and carry appears universal, as does our need to escape it. Having recently gone through another difficult breakup, I feel its sharp and familiar pull, but I find comfort in knowing it’s a widely shared pain.
It makes me wonder sometimes if we just weren’t meant to handle all this. What if our stone age bodies are collapsing under the speed and information of it all. What in my evolution–after all–could have prepared me to even begin to grasp all the pain we now know people to be suffering every moment, every where, every day. It’s too easy to lose yourself in the sorrows.
But, I digress again.
The fact is you don’t have to believe in magic to believe in the human spirit. The placebo effect isn’t magic after all. We know to some degree of certainty that if we believe something strongly enough we can alter our very reality for the better.
That’s why I always thought that If you simply refuse to kneel to the pressures. If you just decide that there is a next chapter, if you just know that you won’t stop. Then you sit in the fires of life, but you notice they don’t burn so much. And, if you’re lucky, you might even feel warm.
What else can you do.
Illustration note: I can provide government certified documents validating that I am in fact of legal adult age for a United States citizen.
Some nights I want to disappear, but my body won’t let me.
I’m a physical object, and not a picky one. Always harvesting energy.
The flesh of a living creature.
I’ve made choices in life, good and bad. It hasn’t.
The machine simply continues.
Illustration notes: “Stomach” Part 3 in the organ series. I’ve actually had to make two of each illustration in this series because of Adobe Illustrator issues resulting in lost work. Each illustration seems to be becoming less abstract unintentionally.
Well I met with the cardiologist and I guess I’m just a healthy growing boy with a large set of insignificant unexplained heart anomalies that are guaranteed to kill me at any moment.
Okay okay maybe I won’t die, but it’s a good time to reflect on the awesome complexity and fragile nature of the human body.
As a kid you play Mechwarrior, and dream about having your very own super robot. Then you grow up and realize you’ve had a super robot all along.
Just to have an operating human body, even a rough one, is an unimaginable gift. Certainly a more luxurious toy than even the rarest exotic car.
Every day when I wake up I’m the pilot.
Illustration note: The illustration above is my second metaphor of the heart. The first one was lost forever to a crashed laptop.