A new start...

I'm starting a new painting... something very different then I've ever tried before... oh, this is going to be fun!

as our challenge comes to an end

I find my voice has reached far ahead and echos back onto me.
It's wave vibrate my bones; creating a sweet new song.

tri-eyed

Solid... soil

Cat Nap

oh bless you...

reaching in, the storm finds you inside

cat nap sketch

Light sketch, will start painting tonight!

slug love

Bwahahahahahaha...

challenge over due (again)

challenge over due

I see...

still needs a little more work

*** UPDATE ***


Just added a bit more paint... still wet so it looks shiny

setting sun

Into the Valley

showers

update

Still working on this piece. Here are images of the past two days and where i'm going with it... still got more to go though...

Lube

I never realized how much i missed the smell of oils and it's accompanying materials. I haven't painted in about 2 months... I was dumb enough to pack my supplies with the rest of our stuff during move instead of keeping them with me the whole trip. Anyway, I started a new painting last night. Still needs a lot more work but here's a glimpse of what will be consuming my attention for a while. It's 20" X 24"

so you think you can fly?

While at work watching poor souls make fools of themselves for just a teeny weeny bit of notoriety.




Here's a horn frog for you... Sunday night relax session after a busy weekend.

Stacy and her willies

Stacy was a level headed seven year old. She always washed her hands after using the bathroom-if not the evil toilet seat willies would jump up and invisibly attaching themselves to her body causing all the neighborhood dogs to sniff her crotch. She never corrected her mother in public unless she wanted a good bottom beating. And never did she ever talk to strangers plus the occasional relatives during the boring family reunions. It is no surprise then that she would be able to convince the invading cycloptic alien worm creatures not to inflict pain on her town but to just sit down with her for a good pot of tea and butter cookies.

playing catch up and fries-postings for the 11, 12

If you ever get the chance to gaze upon the flesh of desire, you vibrate as it slowly consumes a part of your awareness you didn't even know you'd given up. It grabs you entirely. First slowly like pulling a heavy object. As it takes more and more of you-the faster you get used up.



You blink a few times to adjust your vision, as if it were the first time you acknowledge the activity of looking. You might even give 'em a good rub just to make sure your eye lashes aren't tangled or something. No doubt about it, death bird is staring you right in the eyes. It's a duel that ends with the complete destruction of one or both.

Cidious McVernon (today's post-posted today)

Cidious McVernon was particularly gifted in the avian arts. There was no flying beast that could deny him! So fantastic is his skill that he is able to conjure a top of his wee bald head the Pebble Gloom Muncher Bird-scarcely seen and known for their peculiar habit of flinging turd pebbles at car windshields while one speeds through the highway.

Regulator

give in

I gave myself away. I gave away the need to be a child; to stand on the safe lines of not knowing. I took a bite of Adam's apple and twirled it with my tongue-the juicy chunk of damnation.

rescue-day 8 (i'm late to post!)

I need to be more consistent on my posting. A little slack here and there... I was being social in this new land and it got a little in the way.

Here is my post for 06/08



This creature, this child save my life. This boy jumped and grasped me seconds before the vicar put that flame at me. The Church for years, deny the existence of our kind-making us seem like a plague. But tonight he changed everything.

7777777777

I’m translucent. Neither solid nor vapor, just a shift from states. Late at night surrounded by unfamiliar walls the whole building becomes alive and taunts me. I can’t tell where the sounds are coming from. Each crick and crack is heading my way to burst into to my room and stare me straight in the eyes. This frightens me. I am not scared of an intruder or traditional fear mongering tactics. I’m afraid I’ll never feel at home again. I’m terrified of my own eyes. I fear that my instability will win this time and I won’t be able to come back. Even though it is ultimately what will happen, I am not ready to let what’s left of my ego go.

open

Their species have an excitable power! Each sphere collects a thought. Gathers and stores all our fleeting ideas, sensations, reflections and the such. These spheres then merge and combine-create and destroy. They become the tiny life source for existence. Slowly pushing out to entwine with our dense dimensional reality.

missed one

So i was planning on posting a picture of a project I started working on Friday for my daily posting, BUT the sketch is so light it really can't be captured with a camera... So instead I'll post something else I worked on... enjoy!





Cornered, Reggie was about to be punished more severely than Wally Wet Willie Winkles for releasing the whoopee cushion brigade. A thousand tiny tickling fingertips will slowly find their way to his flesh. They will wiggle and poke and scratch and grope. One even slips inside your tight bottom.

Skeeter Skidbottom

Skeeter Skidbottom got the offer of a lifetime. For years he spent a buck fifty on his favorite comic book, Boogers Big Adventure, at the corner news stand. Now, standing before him is Stanley the news stand owner offering Skeeter a part time position for the grave yard shift. Even Mr. Cotton Toot questions the validity of said offer, expressing his mistrust with a pointed finger

Magmorpheous

He will get up and keep going until none remain. Pulling, gnawing, and slashing were once inconceivable movements for his body to execute, but now he fights atop Gryph his flying one-eyed wifflesnork. He can’t stop, it’s not just his own fate that relies on his success in this battle.

He has no other way to obtain the scroll of eternal regeneration of his tribe’s main food source. He is their leader; he is Magmorpheous, lord and keeper of Avitropolis- the bird kingdom. Generations before him have spilled their blood facing this same journey but failed. He will avenger their deaths and bring salvation to his people.

But how? The odds of his survival are slim; he is exceedingly outnumbered and his left leg received a deep cut from the Guardians of the scroll. The Guardians of the six scrolls of cell reactivation scarcely have any natural properties left. Perversions conjured by black magic, they are. Their feathers lost all their brilliant color, as if the dark spell that controls them leaked out and swallowed anything bright. Empty eye sockets filled with milky iridescent fluids stare back at him void of any emotion.

They were once his kinsmen seduced by dark illusions. The weak of mind and heart always fall. A swelling guilt takes over him. Even now when there is scarcely any part of who they were left, guilty reminds him how he has failed to keep them safe. He must push on and destroy the darkness. He will restore the order of his kingdom and replenish their dying food supply.

Bullion Beak

Ancient secrets and laws govern, adding a security that resides inside every singular stroke. The fibers stretch and expand twice their original size. Separate yet together, slicing through the air as invisible collisions burst into tiny waves ruffling the collective entanglements. They are a proud and consecrated species.

They are however, almost gone. Over development and hunting is the cause of the decimation of these primeval creatures that date back to the time of the Socrates. If ever you are lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the rare Bullion Beak you are said to be blessed with a million tiny pleasures. So is their place in this world

intermission..

I was playing with Gouache and liquid frisket a la Dennis...

a challenge was made...

I asked the universe to make me stronger and make my vision as clear as the sky after the ravages of a storm. She replied with a petition or more so a challenge was posed upon me;

"Create everyday in the month of June and your third eye will achieve a higher facet of vision. Create everyday in the month of June and you'll gain laser beams for eyes."

So here marks my challenge, I will create something new everyday for the month of June and post it here on this blog. Join in if you wish, watch if you don't want to partake... but keep all three of your eyes peeled.


Tomorrow I will post my first creation...

god fearing kind of folk

Maude Sanders is a quiet, god fearing kind of folk who enjoys the basic necessities in life; a strict diet of insecurities reinforced by a life time of premature attempts of making up her own mind due to fear of seeing her own reflection flip her the bird. It’s no surprise she got involved in petty crime.

At first she would start off by taking things from houses she visits. She took a decorative soap from Mrs. Crandle’s bathroom and sister Nan’s bottle opener. She would take anything that seemed mundane and its disappearance unnoticeable. That way the victim would never suspect foul play. They would give a puzzled look and cross themselves. Where the hell could it have gone? Margaret her next door neighbor and probably her most frequent victim, would phone her a few times to ask if Maude borrowed her spare scissor, but Maude would never admit to it. No one could ever know about her little secret power.

She felt the tang of excitement when she lifted an object with the intention of removing it from its proper place. She got to the point were she had to take it while someone was in the same room as her, just to bring the stakes up higher. Maude would feel the satisfaction of knowing a secret about a person without them knowing she knows. The problem was she had no need for these objects. Soon she was running out of places to stash these trophies.

Maude did what she deemed best. One night, when she knew Herald would be down at Scoop’s bowling alley she collected her tiny treasures in plastic garbage bags. She loaded up the sedan and drove out to the docks to dispose of her bootie. She had to be extra careful not to be noticed. She tried to create an answer if she was ever caught like that one time Tiffany, her little dumpling, found Mrs. Crawl’s vibrating massager. Lord knows if it wasn’t for Herald’s arrival she would have had to hurt her way out of that one.

Still…she still has no answer-truth or lie. She doesn’t know why she has to steal, she just knows that she feels most genuine the moment she gets away with it. Walking away waving good bye and the whole time she has a part of them that they don’t even know they lost. She was the only one to know. It wasn’t until she misplaced one of her own objects that she started to feel guilty. That’s why she chose to stop this whole snatching business and disposed of all these trinkets she grew to obsessively love.

She found a nice secluded spot at the edge of the dock. One by one she slowly dropped the bits and pieces of her success. 23 pairs of keys, 3 bras, 56 lighters, one urn filled with the remains of Gladys’s pet squirrel, she never did like the rodent. All and all she filled 3 large bags worth of stuff. When she was done she felt a bit liter on her feet, she even skipped a little back to her car. Along the way she found a pair of shoes that must of belong to one of the boaters. Looking left and right she quickly picked them up and stuffed them in her purse and continued to skip her way home.