Don’t look forward

I had trouble drawing this one because I was sometimes smiling and sometimes frowning. I was thinking about Tony Blair leaving office and announcing he was going to become a peace envoy. What a joke. What a sharp, shooting pain in my gut.

Brand new model

This is my best friend Piggy. Just like animals, just like beautiful strangers and idols, just like any object that can’t respond, I impose all the best things on Piggy and he never lets me down.
Tomorrow my brand new wife arrives. I hope I can draw her over and over. It’s intimidating though, to be yourself in front of another human being. Some pictures come out bad, that’s just part of the process, but they come together eventually. I hope she likes my pictures of her.

Brought eyes (sic)

I downloaded my first album legally tonight. It was Bright Eyes’ “Cassadaga”. “Poison Oak” made me cry while shopping for washing machines and refrigerators in Broadway in Causeway Bay just over a year ago. That was pretty interesting.
Yesterday I had to go to a big law firm to check out their conference rooms for a photo job. It was just before lunch when I left and I got into a full elevator. Once inside I saw the doors were mirrors, and I got to look at myself surrounded by perfectly preened, young executives. I looked like shit. From my hair to my outfit to my self, I looked a mess. Not a Keith Richards kind of a mess; just an ugly, avoidable-person kind of mess.
You might not know this, but I was young once. I was aware at the time that older people envied me, that I had access to the little girls and the energy, and that one day it would be gone. I decided that I would enjoy it and when it was gone, well, to hell with it. I would embrace maturity, or drop dead if it got too hard. I’m bored of this topic already, but I’m still surprised every time I look in the mirror. Does it have to be over so quickly?

Ain’t talkin’ ‘bout love

I had the idea a long while ago to freeze-frame pornographic videos and draw them. I never really developed it far, but I still like the idea. I’ve had a nagging feeling about sex and love recently – how the two are so interchangeable, but I’m sure they’re not that related. Love is just a moral concoction to allow fucking in civilized society. The reality is that a swollen cock thrusting into a juicy pussy is the best part of existence, and it’s made that way because nature insists we select and procreate. The idea that I’m being manipulated by something outside myself makes me mad, and makes me never want to fuck again. Really – I know the game: passion, that overwhelming desire, that explosive wanderlust that comes with being in the arms of beauty. Nature, you fiend. Am I just a cog in your wheel?

the Cure

This is another old picture. It is a familiar process - I fuck up the first one or two sketches; then, as my energy and inner violence grows, I need to choose to pull it together or just submit to the failure. Herein lies the beauty of creation: inarticulate insistence.
I’m listening to “Lost” by the Cure. I always imagined that this song culminates in a grand piano being tied up with a rope and lifted into the air and then being repeatedly smashed into the ground in time with the music. The big, repetitive, pulsating sound made up of all the instruments getting more and more insistent. It’s like the selfish urgency of passion; the overwhelming violence of sex. The insistence. The insistence of culmination. The point where mistakes are irrelevant. It could be murder or orgasm; it’s all the same when you’re overwhelmed.
I was thinking yesterday, as I rode the bus home, of a moment when I was waiting on someone’s balcony and I watched 2 young lovers far, far below me at the dock. It started raining and they had no shelter, but they stayed. They stayed for over an hour. All they had was a piece of wood that protected their bags from getting too wet. I waited and waited. All they did was hug, and wander around, and hug again. I thought it was sweet but it was dull. Why didn’t they do something? Why didn’t they fuck? Why didn’t they fight? Why didn’t one of them slit the other’s throat? Why did it just drag out and disperse into the endless sea of nothingness? Inaction can only lead to disintegration.

Gee but it’s good to be home

As much as I dig my wife and have the greatest time staying with my in-laws, it sure is nice to come home. I thought I’d give the night to rum and Dynasty Warriors, oh how I’ve missed my warrior friends, but I spent the night working and listening to music, and treated myself with drawing at the end. Japan for 2.5 weeks sure was fun. Getting back to work sure is fun. Life is both hunky and dory. I love it here. I can’t wait to go back. What a complex pattern of happiness existence is.