Picture of the Week #8

This is my kitchen at Rick's College. I spent about an hour arranging it for this drawing after my roommates went to bed so it wouldn't be disturbed. I stayed up for hours drawing it, but that was common for me back in the day. (staying up all night that is) Ah, to be young and stupid again. We actually did have Kermit the Frog sitting on our cupboard.

Poem of the Week #8

This poem is actually true for me.

I Never Dream of You

I never dream of you.
My night visions never include
those who occupy
my every waking thought.
If I dream of anyone
I actually know
then they are those
I haven't seen or thought of
for years;
or those who maintain only
peripheral positions in my life.
So you see,
I never dream of you.

February 2007

Picture of the Week #7

This is a portrait of one of my former roommates, Natalie. I convinced her to sit for me so I could do my figure drawing homework. Modeling is actually very hard work. I can't do it because I am physically incapable of sitting still. I blame the ADHD. Natalie actually had ADHD as well, but she could sit long enough for me to draw her head.

Poem of the Week #7

I am far too familiar with this subject.

Insomniac's lament

First to bed,
last to sleep;
much as I love solitude,
I would prefer
to be wide awake
with the sun
and companions.

May 2000

Picture of the Week #6

This is a still-life from my color class. It's almost the only one I kept, and definitely the only one I liked. Most of my projects from that class were completely forgettable. I did this painting in about ten minutes and enjoyed myself hugely. I believe the object of the assignment was to mix all colors on the palate, none on the painting. This was supposed to help me see colors individually and not comparatively, or something like that. I guess it worked, I have often bought something in the store and had it perfectly or almost perfectly match the color of a coordinating piece at home.

Poem of the Week #6

I wrote this one for and about my dad.

Bedtime Travels

Sitting at the foot of my bed, he would lean over my feet
And if he was tired, try to get away with
The three bears or
The three turtles or
The three parakeets.

"No, Daddy, a real story."

Then we went mountain climbing or
Spelunking in dark caves smelling of damp
With bats, colorful stalactites and underground rivers;
Or night parachute into enemy territory or
Stand with heroes, overcoming great odds.

And the next night his sieve-like memory
Couldn't recall his stories
Untill I retold them word for word.
And we were off, parachuting back into the caves,
Just to climb our way out again to fresh air and
A sky-full of stars.

July 2006