Today my classes were cancelled.

Meaning I got to sit at home and draw in my underwear for an embarrassing portion of my day.

Viva Los Luchadores

Lucha Libre wrestling, in my opinion, is a provocative social metaphor.

Think about it; a parade of compatants engaging in choregraphed battles wearing masks, capes and glorified underwear. Wrestling matches in which the most humiliating thing that can ever happen to you is for your opponent to remove your mask.

Thats life, people. Think about it.

I love it.

A shiny new canvas stand.

While home for Thanksgiving, my Dad and I did the whole bonding thing over some power tools, wood and designs for an easel.

Its kind of our masculine way to compensate for my artistic hobbies.

These are the fruits of our labors.


^ I leave Dad in the garage for 5 minutes... And he puts the thing together upside down.
Fail, Dad. Fail.

^Note the cup holder. Whens the last time you've seen an easel with a cup holder.
This easel is legit.

"I don't even have a flashlight..."

"Sometimes, when I walk down a dark road at night
I have the urge to turn on my headlights
But I don't have headlights.
Because I'm a person.

I don't even have a flashlight..."

Highlight the Hideous

The irony of this post, I will point out at the beginning, is that I may or may not be condemning the condemners.

Artists of my age tend to want to highlight the hideous. To take the ugly and negative aspects of their world view and infuse it into their work. The resounding generalized message to me is the condemnation of humanity.

I'm tired of art condemning humanity. I hereby condemn, as a representative of the human, those artists right back.

take that.