Winter is Coming

I've been working on a giant drawing for about three weeks now. It still has a long way to go.

English Bulldog Drawing

I've been working on this one for about 20 hours. I'm trying to get a good photo of it but no matter what I do it doesn't come out white enough.

Shopping For Ink

Mountain Man

boring........

The split second I stop doing something, I mean the very second the tool or whatever leaves my hand, I get so overwhelmingly bored (or whatever the feeling is) that I want to take a machine gun to my temple. I was just outside doing some work, listening to good music enjoying myself in the sun, power tools and stuff...all good....feeling that life can't get better. I'm outside my workshop and I have a kung-fu staff propping open the door, and everytime I look at it I want to grab it and start smashing and thrashing and stabbing stuff with it. Not playing around. I mean full life or death anger type stuff. At the same time I'm enjoying my work really digging the block of Crosby, Stills and Nash thats cranking on the radio. One second I'm like "I'm so beautiful...dandelions make me cry" then the next second I want to ram my hand into the running table saw and I'm not even in a bad mood.

The Hummingbird

I was working in a middle school today and as I was walking through the front door something on the ground caught my eye. At first I though it was a huge dead moth, but upon getting a closer look I discovered that it was a hummingbird. A poor little dead hummingbird. It was right by the front entrance. She must have flown into the glass. There were lots of people doing work at the school with many different renovation projects going on. People were going in and out of the door constantly, I wondered if anyone else had seen the bird. Every time I would walk past the bird I would say something to try and comfort the dead bird, also saying to myself that I needed to pick up the bird and find a proper resting place for it. There was a garden path that a man and his daughter were fixing up, pulling weeds and planting flowers, as the day went on I came to realize that this was to be the bird's final resting place. So when it was time to go, and no one was looking, I dug a hole in the garden with my claw hammer and gently picked up the tiny hummingbird and place her in her grave and buried her. A nice pretty spot where she can watch all the kids as they come and go from school.

Sunset on the Greatest Chicken of Them All: Rest in Peace My Sweet

My neighbor stopped by today to ask about my bantam hen Cinnamon.  I haven't seen her in two weeks. She said that her and her granddaughter are missing Cinnamon's daily visits to her house. She had her routine that she never strayed from. In the morning she'd have a little Daddy time with me then she would bop over to the neighbors house for a smackeral of food and a visit with their chicken. In the afternoon she would make her way back to our property and mill around in her dirt bath or stop at the bird feeder and score a few seeds that fell on the ground. She also enjoyed getting chased around by our Bulldog Prudence. I think she really like that. They hung out together. Prudence would eat the poops as they fell out of Cinnamon's ass (maybe they taste like chicken). The absolute greatest thing about Cinnamon is how early in the morning I would go out and open her pen and she would come running out and she would run right beside me and follow me around until I bent down and she would jump up onto my arm, then we would go score some bread and sit on the deck and I would drink my coffee and she would have her breakfast. Another great thing she did was when she would see me, she'd break out into a full run and sprint to me. Hilarious watching something run so fast with no arms. My neighbor said she a hawk swooping down trying to get her chicken, so that must be what happened to Cinnamon. I've been kind of in denial, hoping she would just show up one afternoon and come fly up on my arm. I look for her all the time, seeing her in my mind as she walks along the fence. Deep down I know she's gone though. She was a great friend and I will never forget her.

I Started Drawing Again

Quint: Work in progress