I’m starting to get back into my flow. It’s a known successful practice to divide the day into pockets of tasks (including the “having fun” task). My travel schedule is dormant for the moment, the leak in my closet is finally fixed and life as I want it has paved a flat ground for me to skate on through. Art. Do art.

This little guy was begging to be brought into being. My deep interest and attraction to all things macabre (and Halloween) has only ever helped shape what inconsistent consistency there is in my work. What does that mean? It means that although I draw like a machine, that I can produce any style and that my love of the process fuels me, there is a common underpainting even if it’s only visible to me. Rage. All of my art has been and continues to be driven by a single force: rage. Rage means many different things. Most people automatically assume rage is the same thing as anger and perhaps they are right. But to me, rage is energy. Rage with love. Rage with desire. Rage with purpose. Rage with results. Just rage.

I miss my best friend. And I miss this kid I’ve drawn so many times before. Dare I project that they miss me too. The injustices of circumstance are all the rage right now.

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