It was worth it.
It always will be.
When you start some nonsensical personal blog you never think about how it could hurt someone you used to love–or still do.
It can make it hard to speak, to draw.
When hurting them hurts you.
That’s never what I wanted.
I just want to keep creating anything until I find some way forward.
To keep running into the fog until I hit something.
To dive into the deep end of a cold pool and go numb.
And I know I have to keep going, or maybe I just want to.
But I hope they’re okay.
When nobody can make you feel better.
And you can’t ignore it long enough to distract yourself.
And there’s no such thing as busy enough to forget about it.
And you just go deaf.
You’re not bored.
You just want to remember you’re alive.
Get higher, board faster.
Turn the music up.
Forget how you got home last night.
Remember falling asleep on the couch so you wouldn’t wake her up.
She hogged the blankets anyway.
But you’ve memorized the hills, and the ride isn’t such a rush anymore.
At least not enough to forget.
Your tolerance goes up, you blow out all your speakers.
There’s no one to hog the blankets.
And you’re not sure if that’s how you want it.
So you’re just left with that ringing in your ear.
But you always wake up one day and realize you feel it again.
You just have to make it until that morning.
When you wake up, and you’re back.
You always come around.
Just hold on.
You’ll come around to save yourself.
It will level out.
Super Nervous Cow is–for the first time–actually selling something! Say hello to my new store ‘Super National’ on Society6 and get free shipping with this unique link: http://bit.ly/2avo2x3 (Limited time).
There are currently three prints available for a limited run in various customized formats. I’ve started illustrating in nearly 6000 x 6000 px to make sure the larger prints and small prints alike are crisp as morning dew.
I hope you enjoy! Look here for extras and all the usual art of course.
A modern tide generator pulls power when the tide comes in, and again when the tide goes out.
You can get rich betting on the stock market going up, or down.
We can’t always choose our emotions, but we can choose what we do with the fuel they give us.
Your love gives me fuel.
So does your distaste..
And it’s all going to the same place.
Maybe I talk too much.
Nah, who cares.
They were wrong about me being a negative person anyways.
I was just curious, that’s all.
The curious and the morbid were always close friends, right?
And I do have friends.
I wrote a lot of different things here that weren’t related to each other but then I deleted them. No worries though, I feel that the image above from my notebook pretty clearly describes what I was trying to communicate to you.
I also noticed that if I make a typo while writing these posts, rather than clicking back to where the typo is I will just backspace all the way back to the typo, re-write it, and then re-write the rest of the text again. So there’s that.
I hope you found all of this educational.
Do you feel that? It’s the sound of everyone judging you. Like the low whine of a vacuum cleaner on the wrong floor setting. You can rest easy tonight though denizens. We’re all weirdos with stuff to hide. When your boss does find your anonymous cake blog you probably think he’ll never look at you the same way again, but more likely he’ll just say “Hey, I too enjoy a good cake.”
We’re all defendants in a courtroom with no jury. Being weird is the only state of existence. There’s no judge, just a hologram.
Sure maybe nothing’s ever quite as good as you pictured it in your head, but that’s a good thing. It’s like you’re in the Tour de France and your coach is barking strategies out a car window. You’ll never catch him, guys in a damn car, but at least you have something to chase. That stupid voice you’ll never catch up to might be annoying, but it’s on your team.
Image inspired by Anonymous at Robotic Raven
Somehow doodling little fuzzy hats on my stick figures makes me feel warmer. It’s 0*F here in Idaho so naturally I drew this with gloves on, that’s why the lines look all janky, which according to WordPress is not a real word.
I have a history of awkward moments with retail employees. I don’t think we understand each other. I’d try correcting them “KEVIN… no.. KE-VIN”, but it wasn’t worth it. Evan is a fine name anyways and he apparently has great taste in coffee. I’ll just be Evan, that’s fine. “TO GO….. TO … GO…. OUT……… OUT” Okay I guess I’m eating here. At least the music is nice and I don’t have to wait until I get home. La-de-dah.
Oh well. If Ryan Gosling taught me anything in the movie Drive it’s that speaking up is totally uncool. If you need me Evan will be enjoying his hot water to stay.
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.
I’ve been drawing this ‘maw’ a lot. I count at least a couple as I scroll down my blog. It’s not that I really care about this image in particular, but the emotion. Ever since I started drawing I’ve wanted to create something that truly pushes the limit of intensity. Something where every hair in the image is screaming at you, as if it would break if pushed a little further. I feel like this emotion is the next step in art for me. It captures something I felt when I was a kid, when the world was mine for the taking.