(these pictures are not very good, in spite of my having found the camera. Cheap porn shot, auction for something nobody wants kind of pictures. oh well…they are posted only as proof, not as portfolio.)
It is possible that I’ve been confusing. When I spoke of the naive certainty of “greener pastures” if self-defeating “roads” are taken – I was referring to the sense of brilliance that one has when he or she happens upon an excuse to falter in a pursuit that seems both optimistic and philosophic. Our collective folklore is full of revered quitters and enchanting flakes. How noble to question the plan you’ve laid out for yourself. How punk. I was so brave when I dropped out of graduate school.
Ha! See, I don’t know about you, but I am terrified of being something. If I falter in my plans, well – plans change, but if I falter in who I am – well, that’s called a breakdown. My life has been made easier (funny, funny, funny – I was proofing this post and saw that I had initially begun this sentence with “My lives…” rather than the far more sane “My life” – I corrected it) since I stopped thinking about who I am as being so dependent on what I do and accomplish. I am who am, in whatever I do. Fortunately, I’ve lucked into a compatible situation in the workforce, I live in a community where I can recognize strangers and remember bits of their history based on parking lot encounters or a sandbox shared several years ago – I can recognize these people, but still – myself – remain largely anonymous. If I had not had such providential…um, providence – well, odds are good that I may still be forming grandiose plans and then abandoning them post inauguration. An exciting rollercoaster of plans and the people I see myself being cling and slip and cling and slip.
it occurs to me that
my layers are full of static
but they keep me warm.
I feel lucky everyday. Really.
Legitimacy is sweet.
Do you think the sad-eyed and well
dressed animals need to be addressed by PETA. I wish PETA would charge me with objectification and dangerous anthropomorphism.
I love science and I respect animals. I can’t stand to see a well-clothed rabbit, because rabbits don’t wear clothes. (Bunnies, however, might. But, that’s a different discussion.) These past couple of drawings have, to me, had the character equivalent of a crying clown. The fancy-dress animals are fun and sad to draw. They make me feel conflicted in a really nice way.