A tough day for art

I would have stayed home but I couldn't do nearly as well as this. Untitled (Pineapple) by Saul Steinberg. Note Don Quiote commencing his charge. The late artist is famous for his New Yorker Magazine drawings for six decades, but of course I'm just discovering him, and quite blown away by his humor and invention, as well as a very accessable style. Makes me believe I can actually create something with simple pen lines, some colored pencil and a bit of collage. I won't dull the blogosphere by blasting myself for not thinking like an artist, for my life is filled with far greater things, currently.
To make up for my thus far shoddy efforts at sketching and doodlecraft I've visited Saul 2 days in a row, in rain, through DC Japanese-American fests, thru a lecture today I could barely stay awake thru. The lesson this weekend is to enjoy the repose and tranquility of the couch and my companion. Maybe a bit of laundry with spur my creativity.

I got mad skills.

Waco III

Why? Because it was my birthday Saturday I flew down to Waco to be with my GF and her buds in the press corps. I may not have the professional experience and devotion to their respective craft and career, but I know of what they write, not necessarily how they live. Well, everyone lives their own version of a normal life, I mean the day-by day doldrums of the bureau or the constant chatter with CNN HQ that journalists endure. Often the item of coverage makes news so infrequently and insignificantly, as is the case of our current "decider" excuse me..


"Heh...Ha ha . Ha HA!! Hey man..what's going on man?


What? Oh hey, it's Tommy Chong popping up on my blog here. Uh, hey man, big fan, love your movies and your guitar playing but I didn't really dig your book "The I Chong" It just kinda seemed a bit random, here, there, caught a misspell too.

Oh yeah, man it's just something I decided to do when they put me in the joint for 9 months for selling fuckin' bongs on the internet. Fucking fascists. I met some heavy cats, played casino, bocce ball and just prayed and meditated alot in there. Couldn't wait to get out and get on with life and my wife, y'know man?

I know what you mean, man. You've got a lovely wife in Shelby there, God bless. So hey man, Crawford was kinda lame man, I mean you got Cindy Sheehan and these ole' hippies with nothing to do but the same tired 60s routine with the flowers in the machine gun barrel type of non violent thing. They tried to send painted Easter eggs to Bush's compound but the security wouldn't even accept them. She blabbed on her bullhorn for the cameras awhile and that's about it. I hung around the file and that was the only news happening.


Oh..Pphhhhhhsssstt! Yeh mn.....wow....thats far out...


Thanks man. Well I can see you're busy. Hey thanks for checking in here. I'll always have a spot on my guitar God mantle piece for your solo bit in Next Movie and of course, Earache, my Eye. Love ya Tom.

Peace!

Cute, Funny or Macho?