Plumage

In the words of Brandon Walsh:
Righteous.

Process: sort of

I don't even know if it's finished, but I've had enough.

Sometimes you've got to kill four or five
thousand men before you somehow
get to believe that the sparrow
is immortal, money is piss and
that you have been wasting
your time.

Carnivore

Way to go mum.

Fuck work

Really.

Today a lady accosted me in the chemist -- that's the place you go when you're either ill or getting contraception, so either way you don't really want to hang and chat -- and started bitching about only being published in one of the two publications I work on. For about fifteen minutes, and she didn't even have the courtesy to remember that she's thrashed this one out with me before.

So, with that fresh in my mind, I'd like a job where people love each other, not hate. I'd like to make pretty stuff, preferably with David Attenborough on in the background, maybe with some whisky nearby. Puppies might be involved.

I need a patron. Someone to support my art-making so I can cut out the bullshit money-making. I'm starting to make some OK jewellery you can have. I come with the added benefit of maybe getting drunk and giving you everything I've even thought about drawing. You might make some returns, I don't know.

Just get me out of this shitty career.

We outta here baby

Things are slumping a bit at the moment... But I'm working up to some severe goodness.

Lover

Over it.

Specimens

Another successful weekend finding things.

Five bones, man.