Pony Gold.: March 2011

Cattle and the creeping things.

Just thought I'd let you know my camera's flash is functioning powerfully and correctly.

Seasons of wither

OK, so it was only after hours of drawing, when I went to save the finished piece as 'seasons of whither', that I thought: hang on, wither doesn't have an 'h' in it.

Except if you're speaking in Shakespearean English and you're asking someone where they're going.

Which I don't think Aerosmith were... but shit, you get the idea.

Here's a detail of my error:

All this because for two weeks now I've had 'Dude Looks Like a Lady' stuck in my head.

I hope just reading that song title makes you suffer like I do.

Not impressive, just psychotic.

So, I think it's time to start painting again now.

If this is heaven, I’m bailing out.

call on god, but row away from the rocks

Supermoon

Super 'perigee' moon tonight, the closest it's been to Earth in about 18 years... but I don't think you can really notice the difference.

I'm going to try to remember to check it out anyway.

Whack dreams though, for sure.

NASA.

Chyeah

Literal op-shop gold.

This is probably the best piece of furniture I've independently procured.
Beats the hell out of ikea.

Augustus Owsley Stanley was largely responsible for bringing acid to the masses in the sixties, which in a way also makes him responsible for things like Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters, and so the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test... the Hells Angels parties at La Honda with Hunter S Thompson and Allen Ginsberg and so in a way Hunter's Hells Angels, and if we're talking about acid, I guess Fear and Loathing and much of the whole the sixties thing.
If Owsley didn't do it, someone else would have. But he is the guy who did it.
He also created one of my all-time favourite band logos, the Grateful Dead's 'Steal Your Face' skull.

By May 1965, he was back in the Bay Area with 3,600 capsules of extraordinarily pure LSD, dubbed "Owsley" by a pot-dealing folk guitarist friend. "I never set out to 'turn on the world,' as has been claimed by many," Owsley says. "And I certainly never made $1 million from drugs. I just wanted to know the dose and purity of what I took into my own body. Almost before I realized what was happening, the whole affair had gotten completely out of hand. I was riding a magic stallion. A Pegasus. I was not responsible for his wings, but they did carry me to all kinds of places."

Read the whole Rolling Stone article here.
Augustus Owsley Stanley died on March 13, 2011.

Golden pony

Tell me about it

Between my shitty shadowy photos and trying to fit A3 stuff into an A4 scanner things have been kind of ugly.
But now I'm psyched.

And thanks MHQ you're the radness.

Got it nice, nice, nice.

More drawings are on the way...
I've been going q-mental with productivity here at the farm.

Miss this guy though.

trois

MarketHQ. Solely responsible for my online shopping addiction.

Follow my blog with bloglovin

Instant coffee

Winterhat.

Makin' habits

Stride.

Consider it hit.

of whiskey, mystics and men

Breather

Tang

I found this outside my office. I wanted to keep it, but I don't know what for.

vanishing point

Miss you former self. You never could dress yourself appropriately, and I liked that about you because you were too interested in whiskey to care.
I also miss the people who were there, and am psyched on the ones who contacted me today.

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.