strictures and structures

if only we stopped trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time

Month: September, 2013

insomnia, or, i hate this fucking planet

One advantage night has over day is that every hour looks the same. This is especially relevant to the insomniacs. It’s 4:30, and paradoxically, I’ve grown *more* alert as the night drags on. I stare into the dancing gray dots that my eyes interpret as darkness, and I am glad of this, that 1AM has the same despairing look as 2AM as 3AM as 4AM. If I don’t watch the clock, I can pretend it’s only been an hour since I began this battle.

But it’s too late. Like Orpheus, I already looked.

Spare me the platitudes about exercise, keeping regular hours, and cognitive behavioral therapy; about sunshine, warm milk, and lavender. They say that insanity is trying the same trick twice, and expecting two different results. I’m not insane. I stopped trying.

If there is any consolation to be had–and it is clear that there is none–it is only that this night isn’t so special. It has happened before, and will happen again.

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ceci n’est pas une rose

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By any other name, it ought to be “this is a pencil sketch of a rose.”

Look at me, I put in two literary references into this blog post!

I think this one is pretty decent. It feels weird to say this, but I think I’ve mastered the basics of drawing 2-dimensional things. I can tell what the shadows on the petals are and why they are the way they are, and knowing these things, I can communicate with my pencil (or really, Miss Ellen Cassidy’s pencil) the three-dimensional structure of the rose. I’m also pretty happy with the leaves. The weight of the lines is too similar throughout, though, but I didn’t have a pencil sharpener. 

It never fails to astonish me how much better everything I draw looks once it’s been filtered by the lens of my shitty little camera phone. I look at it and it’s like what, did I do that on purpose? Whoa. 

Mother Goose, or Motherf*cking Goose?

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This inmate of the Palo Alto Zoo does nothing but brood all day long on the wrongs done to it by the wingless two-legs.

This turned out pretty well. I think I understand how to draw birds now. Well, that’s probably saying too much; this goose was easier because it was all white, and so it’s easier to see where all the joints are.

I didn’t get a chance to finish the tail feathers before the goose got up and let loose a mighty expectoration from that region, before ambling off.

Mother Goose, or Motherf*cking Goose?

This inmate of the Palo Alto Zoo does nothing but brood all day long on the wrongs done to it by the wingless two-legs.

This turned out pretty well. I think I understand how to draw birds now. Well, that’s probably saying too much; this goose was easier because it was all white, and so it’s easier to see where all the joints are.

I didn’t get a chance to finish the tail feathers before the goose got up and let loose a mighty expectoration from that region, before ambling off.