Tag Archives: bad art

A nice peaceful lunch

 

I went outside into the courtyard at work to do some nice quiet pencil drawing, to regain confidence. My whole creative life is just one long interrupted battle with perfectionism. Why this should be, I don’t know. We’ll save that subject for a million whiny poems. But drawing in pencil is always easy, and a nice reminder that I can indeed draw.

It was very windy. My hair kept fluffing into my face. Normally I’d stick a pencil in there to hold it out of the way but, well, I was using it to draw. Minimalism has its pros and cons.

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Just when the drawing started to come together and I started to sink into the Zone…

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CLANG!!!!

I nearly jumped out of my skin. A large empty metal trash can, the classic kind that I can’t believe people still make and use anymore, fell over right in front of me. The lid blew off and the bag, being empty, wind-socked out.

I decided to do the responsible thing and put it back. I was the only one in the courtyard, and who knows where that lid could blow. So I walked the trash can to a good snug corner and tried to put the lid on it. Had some trouble. The bag was so fluffed out and would not un-fluff. I eventually just gave up and forced the lid over the bag. It was at this point that I started to giggle.

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(I know I just said I was a perfectionist. I vacillate back and forth between “not good enough” and “hell with it.” Guess which this doodle was.)

Slightly discombobulated, I sat back down to draw. WhoooOOOoOOOsh, said the wind. Pbptpbptpbt, said I with a mouthful of hair. The trash can remained firmly ensconced in its new corner, and said very little.

Behind me there was a loud, loud, gunshot CRACK.

THE FUCKING TREE WAS FALLING APART.

 

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So it wasn’t the whole tree but it sure sounded like it. The drawing is more or less to scale. The dialog is also accurate. It might not have hurt me a whole lot if it landed, but oh my bajeezus. That scared me good.

So… something didn’t want me to draw today. I went back inside where the angry gods couldn’t attack me anymore!

HAPPY EASTER YOU SONS A BITCHES! May God and nature smile kindly upon you and not send vengeful winds your way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

after a snowstorm

 

soft, white, glitter cushioned
suspended in chill
bunnies, birds, even trees huddle
keeping their tiny inner fires lit.

life is
hush.

as the air falls still
the stars shine sharper.
unalive, eternal outsiders,
the only things not muted
by the passing of a snowstorm.

 

 

 

 

 


 

Allow me to lessen the impact of the poem with kiddie art, haha. I’m trying to learn how to do digital art now. This is one of my first efforts. Brushes are fun.

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The Wind Devil

 

An icy little wind devil

kicks up the air in my cube

leans against my left shoulder to read what I write

blows on my soup

peeks under my blanket

keeps making grabs for my toes.

The office AC has summoned him.

Only he who has been granted

the power of the thermostat

can send him back to the ninth circle

from whence he came.

 

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Different ways that strangers treat me

When I drive home on a normal day, people don’t notice me much. Everybody is reasonably respectful. But when I put my sunglasses on and hide my eyes, people get a lot more impatient with me. They pass me quickly, try to zoom ahead of me at stop signs, etc. I’m sure this has everything to do with the glasses and is in no way a reflection of my driving skills…

In the winter, if I wear my crocheted white owl hat with the cute tufted ears on top, people are really nice to me. They bag my groceries with extra care, talk to me like a friend, and look at me fondly. My adorable owl hat makes me an adorable owl hat person. I have learned that adorable owl hat people are very approachable and are already friends with everyone.

If I feel tired and weak, people look more nervous and keep more distance. I’m pale and get really dark lines under my eyes when I feel tired, so I think I can look pretty bad. Some people give me space, some people have a more supportive and protective air and try to cheer me up with careful, gentle jokes.

When I feel really sick and grouchy and have to go out and pump gas in my swishy pants, when all I want to do is crawl under a rock and die and I hate everyone, this is when guys seem most attracted to me. This has led me to the conclusion that there are lots of men out there who want a woman who will kick their ass.

These are huge differences in treatment, based on very small changes such as my mood or a single article of clothing. If you’re walking down the street, how differently do you treat each person who passes? Do you smile at one and not the other, mutter excuse me to one and avoid eye contact with the other? Why?

Once I read an essay or something (I’m sorry to have forgotten the details) by an African-American man. He noticed people getting tense if he walked down a lonely street near them. His solution to this was to start whistling Vivaldi. He said he could see their backs immediately loosen up. Hardened criminals don’t give their position away by whistling cheerful, cultured tunes!

I wonder how much of our personalities, clothing choices, etc are made to get other people to look at you the right way.

I wonder what we would each be if there was no peer pressure. I tell you what, I probably wouldn’t shower.

 

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…who am I kidding. This drawing is my reality.

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