For my niece, Kennedy.
// Tools: Pen, Illustrator, Photoshop, Pen Tablet //
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.
Every day you have to wake up and find your own screwed up way to make peace with the world.
Sometimes night comes fast though, and there’s nothing in sight.
So look around, gather what you can from life,
And make a screwed up peace with yourself.
Illustration notes: Personal project, 2 days to complete, Adobe Illustrator
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.
Do you know how Pluto got its name? The Pluto Incident (also referred to as Phase 5 or the Pluto disaster) was a catastrophic experimentation incident that occurred on 26 April 1955 at the Disney Research and Development Lab in Pardon, California (then officially San Laos), which was under the direct jurisdiction of the central authorities of Disney and funded by DARPA. An explosion and fire released Phase 5 of the experiments, including a highly dangerous human dog hybrid known as Pluto. which resulted in several deaths along the California coast and Los Angeles area.
The Pluto incident was the worst genetic accident in history in terms of cost and casualties. It is one of only two classified as a level 7 event (the maximum classification) on the International Experimental Event Scale, the other being the release of Experiment C5 (Trum-P) in 1946. The battle to contain the experiment and avert a greater catastrophe ultimately involved over 500,000 workers and cost an estimated 18 billion dollars. During the accident itself, 31 people died, and long-term effects are still being investigated.
It was determined the following year that the prototype Pluto would be launched into space as part of the mission Dark Freedom. Dark Freedom is a robotic space transport built and launched in conjunction the European Space Agency. Along with Mikey, its lander module, Dark Freedom was launched for its destination comet 69X/Churyumov–Gerasimenko (67P). It also performed a flyby of the asteroids 21 Lutetia and 2867 Šteins. On 12 November 2014 the mission encountered a serious error, and the capsule was lost to the thick debris of the outer Kepler debris field Thinking the signal was lost, the mission was filed away until the signal came online on 15 January, 1963. It was found on a previously unknown Kepler belt object. This object was named after the failed experiment Pluto, and remains in quarantine under the authority of the International Agency on the Exclusion Zone Management to this day.
Illustration by me
Last night I had a dream. No, not about the civil rights of my children. About boats! Fast boats. Boats so fast they can’t be controlled. Flying over bridges and crashing back down into the river below. Skimming across the surface of super highways lit like laser beams and sunlight. Racing almost into another dimension. Accelerating and accelerating until you can’t take it any more. You jump out, and watch your rocket boat crash into the side of a building.
I’ve seen this before. Over the years as I’ve begun tracking and sketching my dreams, a common theme has emerged: Speed and the inability to stop it. Whether I’m walking, biking, running, driving, snowboarding, flying, or boating, I can’t stop. Sometimes I want to stop, sometimes I try to stop, but I can’t stop. I can never stop.
I’ve asked doctors “Why can’t I ever stop in my dreams?” but they seem puzzled. I’ve asked mechanics if they can fix my brake lines but don’t understand when I point to my head.
I guess I’ll just keep moving.