here

here

here’s seven
here’s eight
here’s nine
here’s ten
here’s eleven

here’s the Cigar box. It goes up for auction and the returns help pay for the art department at a local elementary school. very cool. Here’s the sketch as layed out on the box initially.

here’s artwork for a theatre bill

Spring was never waiting for us, girl
It ran one step ahead
As we followed in the dance
Between the parted pages and were pressed
In love’s hot, fevered iron
Like a striped pair of pants

MacArthur Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh, no!

I recall the yellow cotton dress
Foaming like a wave
On the ground around your knees
The birds, like tender babies in your hands
And the old men playing checkers by the trees

MacArthur Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh, no!

[break]

There will be another song for me
For I will sing it
There will be another dream for me
Someone will bring it
I will drink the wine while it is warm
And never let you catch me looking at the sun
And after all the loves of my life
After all the loves of my life
You’ll still be the one

I will take my life into my hands and I will use it
I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it
I will have the things that I desire
And my passion flow like rivers through the sky
And after all the loves of my life
After all the loves of my life
I’ll be thinking of you
And wondering why

[extended break]

MacArthur Park is melting in the dark
All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don’t think that I can take it
‘Cause it took so long to bake it
And I’ll never have that recipe again
Oh, no!
Oh, no
No, no
Oh no!!

You have the chops, but you’ve got no soul. You have a big vocabulary and nothing to say.

(click thumbnail for enlarged image)
Few days later:

The weather is lovely here in Portland.

I am feeling woefully behind the ball. Many paintings to be done and many pages to be drawn. I think it might help to post somethings up here so I can regain some sense of accomplishment as I move forward.

The problem with a blog is that it leaves me feeling completely fractured. Hard to find a voice I feel comfortable putting down. In my head I spend 80 percent of the time kicking myself. Is that valuable here? Perhaps the recitation of whimsies?

People like my paintings, but they are hard to make. If I had a good work ethic I’d have lots of bad paintings. Why aren’t I selling insurance right now instead of living like a rat? Why am I so lazy and stupid. Ah there’s nothing new to post here.

I guess I should fill it up before I’m living in a cardboard box and I can no longer post.

More sunshine later.