New risks

Like I said, back then I was afraid to try to draw and so I used images I found in mags. Now I can take a stab at creating my own images with more or less luck.

The redhead I painted this week looks like a 30s glamour girl if the Simpsons Springfield existed at that time, which in a parallel universe it most certainly did, okay?


She looks like the kind of girl Homer’s father might have drooled over. Well, he probably didn’t drool then but maybe on special occasions.

I want to call the newspapere where I work and tell them I’m sick. Today is a very special colleague’s last day. I get attached in a kind of slow growing closeted way over the years to the special souls. Then I think when they leave it triggeres my deep-seated abandonment issues. Or maybe it’s just that I know that I will miss Jim Dyar alot. He’s a shining star from the heart out, much loved and I know he will do well. I think he deserves a stress free period of time to chill and spill out his delightful music. Check him on MySpace

 I just won’t look over at the spot where he once resided.

Where is everybody going? (Bette Midler from “The Rose”)

Well, honey they’re going in search of a place where they don’t have to give their newspaper blog posts a title meant to lure in Rush Limbaugh-wrecked nincompoops.

Actually anybody who listens to Limbaugh-types on purpose doesn’t deserve the benign moniker of nincompoop. Maybe . . . noncompoop or “those who fear thinking for themselves.”

I won’t go there.

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