itesser ink: progress, uncensored

Reagan and I use "Coyote" and "Jackal" as affectionate nicknames for each other. In some doodles, especially my mini-world compositions, I throw in these angular stick-coyotes and -jackals. When they're not colored (ie: most of the time), the best way to tell if a given canine is a coyote or a jackal is to see if it has whiskers on its nose. If there are whiskers, that's the yote.



((If you find jokes funniest before they've been explained, here's the link at the bottom of the post. You can skip the rest. ))

I hate most pickled things. Eggs might be the only exception. But I definitely hate pickled cucumbers. It's a waste of a perfectly good fregetable.

A couple days ago Reagan was standing near me, holding a sandwich that had a pickle on it. We exchanged whatever words needed to be exchanged, I made a gross-out face in regards to the pickle, then he left to go to his computer. A second later the pickle smell hit me and I made another grossed-out face and comment.

Reagan says to me, "If I need to hide something from you, I'll just put a pickle on it."

Then I drew the above doodle. It makes me laugh like crazy.

Speaking of coyote-related things that make me hapy, I love The Daily Coyote to pieces. It makes me think of my husband. :)

Labels: bonus post, details, digital work, low hanging fruit, memories

What did you do?

Okay, I had time to do a lot more and got stuck in the intertubes instead, but both of those things took a considerable amount of time and energy.

The blog and the book are on the same topic: Year One. The blog (which I'll link to once there is more than one post) was a decision that took about 24 hours to reach, and I was lifted to it by the encouragement of some strangers. The book pitch was fully spur-of-the-moment when blog research dropped in my path a link to a literary agency. Not just the agency, but the form for submitting queries.

I'm glad I saved the text of my proposal. It has the potential to act as a guide for my Other Blogging Adventure.

--

Not getting enough sleep. I need a large bottle of CONCENTRATE, the product that has the ability to make anything more potent. Sleep. Orange Juice. Thoughts. Coffee. Poetry, maybe.

Hungover

your voice did echo
spilt words in my mind
of hours to come
and moments behind

that, having passed,
are nothing but warning
all is a day
and we are a morning

Yes. We needs it.

I want to etch that in the corner of a bold painting in sunset colors and a cliche, bereft figure or two. Something very 365.

Instead, I will take up my pen and hamoodle out some drawings while eating and con Reagan into scanning them for me. This note is entirely unnecessary because the lapse in time for you to go from here to the image below is a fraction, I say a fraction of what it takes me to make it happen. Appreciate it. (My goodness, the lack of sleep is making me punchy.)



ZOUNDS! that's not a scan!

Reagan went to bed and the scanner would awaken him. I draw, he shall scan, I then shall post anon.

*resets "days of non-goofy posts" counter to 0*

Labels: digital work, excuses, poem, projects

Day off, three ways. I used a photo I took when R and I were last at The Ranch. It was slightly blurry because there was low light and I don't have a tripod.


(inspired by Postal Poetry. I love this image and design.)


(inspired by this Color+Design post)


(inspired by Photoshop Disasters. Mmmm... clone stamp.)

Labels: digital work, excuses, linx, low hanging fruit, photos, poem, the ranch

Wow, that took a lot longer than I expected. And I only did half. The new half!

I fail and half no title. If I got the whole image done, I wouldn't feel the need to have a title, but... I didn't. Give this a Tom Waits a la Black Rider vibe. ;)

come into the theater
try out our dream machine
we open the doors
to hobos and whores
even you will be more than you seem



the rest of the text, in case you can't read my handwriting:

gamblers on the mezzanine,
dancers in the pit
spin the wheel
wishes made real
black-dog-dare the devil's wit

I'm not amazingly pleased with the art, but I'm glad I gave the idea a shot. Learning! Learning! Rah! Rah! Rah!

I really need to go to bed.

Labels: digital work, poem

I'm not feeling like myself, but instead of the normal formula of not feeling like myself (which, I suppose, is more like the part-time version of feeling like myself), it's an off-brand concoction, unfamiliar. Compressed and oppressed in so many cliche ways. Time ripples through my days in an illusory way; I have no sense of chrono-depth perception, and can't tell how fast I travel.

C'est la vie.

I feel like I got something done today, but for the life of me can't tell you what. Three hours were spent at an acquaintance's home playing board games. That was fun, but not what I'm thinking of.

Rare Moment Alone

carpet grinds into elbows
teeth grind each other flat
sweaty palms hold
heavy head

drip, the faucet
chirp, the black-headed grosbeak
drone of trucks
matching drone of fans

cramped and bloodless legs
hunched, unsanctioned lotus
an unexpected
meditation

Cheetalope:



Cribbed off photos more than usual.

I prefer the (mental) image of deer antlers, but it doesn't especially fit the setting. And they're harder to draw. :X

Labels: blarg, cheetalope, digital work, poem