A year ago, this sketchbook was the bane of my existence. Sometimes I miss those days.
I’m smiling because I don’t have a choice right now. Somebody bring me a shovel, please.
Fun times. Yes, that’s a pint of pumpkin ale. I regret nothing. (Taken with Instagram)
Drowning.
I’m a hack.
—
Me, just now, less than 24 hours before a pitch.
Edit: False alarm, just the necessary mild breakdown that comes from working on something for too long, not getting anywhere, getting somewhere, and then taking it further. So keep it up, kids, great things are coming.
End of week 3. Second overly caffeinated weekend working from school. Six to go.
Another quarter down. Now I’m off to find Summer somewhere else before coming back to keep fighting the white bulls.
