High Contrast Grey.

March 4, 2010

Numb.

The days are beginning to blur as I work on perfecting mixing absinthe drinks. Too much influence.. I’ve also been perfecting in my saying yes. No one has seemed to notice the wiser. Recreation and rediscovery. Masking the ennui. Masking the distant thoughts. Masking the death. A contempt for the abuse directed inwards. Too much…
March 4, 2010

Missoula. I pass this everyday as I walk from school to the Butterfly. I wonder if I still have my buffalo stencils somewhere…
March 4, 2010

Bozo had a strange way of talking, Cockneyfied and yet very lucid and expressive. It was as though he had read good books but had never troubled to correct his grammar. Down and Out in Paris and London George Orwell
March 3, 2010

Isn’t there a black market someplace missing you? Aaron the ginger to Moaglie.
March 3, 2010

The new project. The alley is in the final steps of finishing, well, it looks like it at least. I’ve been putting off detailing the rugs.. This new project was based around the idea of wanting to do an inside scene with a spiral staircase. I have found that spiral staircases /suck/ in trying to…
February 27, 2010

My new roommate. Her name is Marie (for the time being, it could change). I couldn’t wait for the bus because I was feeling rather impatient and instead carried her for about two miles. I thought that the feeling in my arms would come back after an hour or two. No. Still even have some…
February 27, 2010

Fox fur in a convenience store. Art nights and interesting characters.
February 26, 2010

The final hurdle.. I still don’t know what to put in the advertising mural above the entrance to the hotel. And I need to come across some pretty fabric/paper for the final rugs. Plus, of course, all the minute ink details still left to do…
February 26, 2010

Lunch. Accompanied by the soothing Erik Satie. /The bottoms of my absinthe tumblers are becoming coated in crystallized sugar./
February 26, 2010

My 4th/5th home. I don’t even know the number these days. Such a fun community. By the end of the day I had moved from sitting at the bar to a booth that became covered in tea pots, cups, and art. It seemed that almost all day I had a revolving door of different characters…

Numb.