Also, got a cool shoutout for the video we made over a year ago…

I haven’t touched acrylics for almost ten years, so I thought I’d do a basic painting for my new apartment to get some stuff on the walls, and also to just to paint again.

I totally bit this image from an old issue of Esopus magazine, and decided to paint my own version of it as fast as I could. It wasn’t very fast, but at least I can consistently slap down a falling-from-sky fish outline from now on.

I’ve been wanting to create more art for my new place. A good portion of my day was spent sketching with pen/pencil. I’m not totally excited to publicly post sketches, mainly unfinished work or exercises, but my younger bro wanted to know today why there was no art on my blog, ever.

Symmetry of the human face can be a total betch, I corrected it a little after taking this shot, but maybe that’s just self-consciousness leaking through the cracks.

Not my original work, but from a painting book.

Maybe more polished work to come…

Apparently iPhones have a flashlight function on them, so instead of hanging and drinking by the camp fire or going down the zipline in the pitch-black darkness, Dan Elmhorst and I got together with his phone and made some light drawings using my camera’s 15 second exposure.

In this photo, I tried to trace myself and end it with a giant halo around my head.

Out of the 2,500 people that came to this site last month, 73 people liked me enough to come back.

So that’s pretty cool.

In October I moved in with Jake, drummer of the oldest version of The Coma Recovery. I currently live at his house with his dog, Monty.

That’s not actually a real picture of Monty. If you can picture this dog without his savvy haircut and shampoo’d fur, then you’ll have Monty.

The greatest experience living with Jake to date was a bright, sunny day in mid-October.  Unbeknownst to Jake, Monty had a day to explore town and had eaten and digested a used condom. Whilst a section of it hung from Monty’s ass, Jake (thinking it was just a clump of spider web) made the dire mistake of using his bare fingers to pull the stretchy, poopy magnum all the way out of Monty’s bum.

Unfortunately I pulled up to the driveway only after Jake had scrubbed his hands for the 5th time over. The story coming from Jake’s mouth combined with his tone of disgust gave me a laugh session that probably added 5 years to my life.

Julia and I have made a point to drink chocolate at Kakawa a lot.

Our drummer Casey from Flood The Sun got married. I may have forgotten to mention that Joel (guitar) got engaged and moved to LA with his lady, Ashley.

My bro Josh had a baby named…

Natalie.

Painted this for Julia.

And all the while I was working at Sunshine Theater…. venue-cleaner by day, bar-back by night.

I quit at the beginning of January. There was only so much dried vomit and hip-hop/metal demographic I could take. Then I was called to be an extra on a movie called Ten Year.

I wore the same thing almost everyday for 3 weeks to work 12-hour days as a background actor. That means I’m going to be one of the cheeseballs in the background pantomiming like a drunk while Channing Tatum gives a star-studded performance.

While the movie was shooting, I caught a deathly flu-like sickness from drinking out of water-filled beer bottles. Never drink the prop-water.

The good news is I’ve made some friends who might want me to be an extra while “Iron Man” Downy Jr. himself flies through the mountainous skies of New Mexico.

Coma is still going strong with a fresh rejection notice just in from South By Southwest.

Both Tommy and Will were sorely disappointed with the news (click to enlarge).

Today I drove to my parent’s house through snow and ice because my neighbor stopped paying his internet bill. When his internet goes down, that means nobody else on the street is getting internet.

As we speak.

Björk koma fyrir í hylki allur þessi er listrænn frelsi. Hún er einn af minn fágun hetja. ÉG von þú njóta this vídeó. Það minn heili springa og minn sál glóa. Með ást.

Sounds like a promotion doesn’t it? That’s because it is.

Kevin owns a company that sells zip lines. He’s getting a new shipment of product in, and needed a fresh box design done.

Today I spent time with the design. Yesterday, I spent most of the time making the photograph and child model look box-ready (like making the eyes bluer, the mouth smiler, etc.) I just might add a swooping arrow to the design if Kevin is lucky.

If you ever want a high-quality zip line that’s weight-tested up to 3 tons (or even higher, I can’t remember), buy one from Kevin at RailRunnerZipline.com.

At special request, I will autograph the box for you.

The glory of being an artist; a creative soul who commits to something that only leads to a stronger sense of separation… conversations that require alcohol, and nothing is remembered of its most intriguing peaks.

Sometimes I think that a business mind is ideal. The business mind makes money and it never appears to be lost. If it isn’t successful, its on its way.

Feeling is all we have. We can only share it in what we create. But the luck is in if anybody connects to it.

Art is too accessible. It’s unappreciated now. We want information. No, we want entertainment still. I entertain myself with inspirational anecdotes. Most entertain themselves with jack-off humor, pop-culture, or conspiracy theories on youtube. We’re all consumers anymore. We measure our intellect with the quality of genres that our minds devour. We’re all doing the same thing unless we’re creating. Why not create every day? Why not every hour?

This is our destiny, every action we take. This is our life. And we’re facebooking it away with status updates. We’re wishing for trashy ego-supporting connections. We’re wanting to buy stuff that supports our fake identities. We want love, not for love’s sake, but so something/someone will approve of the bullshit we’ve “added” to ourselves… and hopefully they’ll support us for life, so we get married.

And, when everyone else has made that choice, you start to wonder if you’re the only one left who needs to sign up just to see what’s missing.

Or not.

Goodbye, Bear.

There wasn’t really a rock concert at the library today, but by the look of the line you’d think there was… minus the non-rock-looking demographic, of course.

Jeremy wants to start a book-selling business, so we got up early to go to a huge sale where books averaged $1-$8 each. I thought maybe I’d buy just one book if I saw something semi-interesting. Instead, I smashed myself into the mooing herd of book-lusting humans, and gorged myself in the art section, picking up 7 books on technique and impressionism. I could have shopped more, but within 30 minutes, my bro and I were both exhausted from swimming against the current of passive-aggressive, space-filling nose-whistlers. So we left.