Like a kid in a candy store. Always sampling and finding a new
favorite flavor, but only just until the next one comes around.
Juggling a million things at once, why not add one more to the
fray? A cotton candy mixer, but I don't need to get mixed up in this.
Those hearts aren't made of glucose and maltodextrin - but like
the candy they do turn bitter towards the end. Gastro-intestinal
and aortal misery caused by an overabundance of the sweetest
thing. Just like suicide, jumping off a cliff and feeling that
exhilirating rush just before you hit rock botom.
reality isn't plastic and silicon - you can't hide what's underneath
"Come see what I did!"
"Not right now," came the tired reply.
"But daddy, it's really pretty!"
the sweetness hammered on his already pounding head.
A picture of a happy family lay face-down on
the coffee table.
"When's mommy coming home daddy?"
The bottle slipped from his fingers and shattered.
"She's not. Mommy's gone..."
First reaction upon seeing her face was not one of physical attraction. Not to say she wasn't beautiful - I'd have given the rest of my life to sleep with her just once. But that thought came later.
First reaction when I took that glance up was one of pure emotion. I never did believe in love at first sight till I met her.
Pink hair. Heh, that alone could've made me drop all my future plans and run off with her right then and there. Blue eyes, a dress that matched them, and faerie earrings. She looked nothing like anyone I'd ever met.
Seems like real life stories always involve a girl. I think love is the driving force behind most o
bleeding angels from heaven's door
a third of the world corrupted
by capitalism; communism;
governmental lies and mental sheep just walking to the slaughter
heads held high
noses in the air
a red, white, and blue bumpersticker
hangs off a fender stratocaster
pumping false beliefs off a stage
I don't like you becuase you don't like me
because I don't like you because you don't like me
into a pit of sulfer
their hearts as dark as the deep blue eyes she closes every night
while praying for release...
Wow, I'm actually a real life graphic designer now! And I still get paid jack shit :P
I moved back to Prescott to help out the family. With any luck I'll also get the chance to pay off some debt, and save money for the big move to SeattleChicagoDCWhereverthehellIendup this time next year.
And since moving back in with the 'rents is like a year-long castration, I figured I'd make the best of the social downtime to get back into all the artisty stuff I've been slacking on the last year or so. Maybe I'll throw some of my scribbles up here for C&C.
I might write in this more if it didn't take me three hours to remember how to get to the journal entry section. So what's new?
Graduation's come and gone, and amidst the last few months I've tasted the repugnance of a 9-5 job, and found myself - yet again - on my ass with no immediate source of income. Is Scott the epitomal lazy bastard? you ask. Has he romanticized the 'starving artist' image to the point of self-defeat? Maybe. But the truth more likely lies somewhere between clients who decide at the last minute not to pay you for your time, and an utter dissatisfaction with anything even remotely mundane.
It turns out that I'd stil
The sad thing is that I've been really (really, really) creative for the last year or so and I haven't had time or volition to post any artjunk. Maybe I'm hiding it from you, or maybe I'm just really (really, really) busy and don't feel like wasting my free-time online anymore. Hell, my favorite deviant kid has been seeing someone for three months now and I just found out today! Glad to know you found someone who treats you right Daniela, and you know I'll be the first to kick his ass if he doesn't ;)
So what does the illustrious 21 year old art major do with his free-time? Well, there's lots of alchol involved, and the occasional gropin
I've been thinking about you since my best friend mentioned going to Arizona... but I guess that's inappropriate. But I'm glad you got back in touch. E-mail me and let me know what's going on with you.... firstname.lastname@example.org