Cheap Trick – Surrender




Mother told me, yes, she told me I’d meet girls like you.
She also told me, “stay away, you’ll never know what you’ll catch.”
Just the other day I heard a soldier falling off some Indonesian junk that’s going round.
Mommy’s alright, daddy’s alright, they just seem a little weird.
Surrender, surrender, but don’t give yourself away.
Father says, “your mother’s right, she’s really up on things.”
“before we married, mommy served in the wacs in the Philippines.”
Now, I had heard the wacs recruited old maids for the war.
But mommy isn’t one of those, I’ve known her all these years.
Mommy’s alright, daddy’s alright, they just seem a little weird.
Surrender, surrender, but don’t give yourself away.
Whatever happened to all this season’s losers of the year?
Every time I got to thinking, where’d they disappear?
When I woke up, mom and dad are rolling on the couch.
Rolling numbers, rock and rolling, got my kiss records out.
Mommy’s alright, daddy’s alright, they just seem a little weird.
Surrender, surrender, but don’t give yourself away.

starting #100


Here’s something I’ve seen others do. So, I’m steeling ideas and claiming them as mine, just to show my own unique individuality. They write something inside their work. I stopped in the very middle of what I was doing and for a few days I’ve tried different ways and measurements to even out the spacing between words or letters. This shit ain’t easy, I had to think and count the little lines on a 1/64th ruler and stuff. Then when I messed up too many time I had to draw out another identical section of the original drawing where this is supposed to fit in. I’m close now, I think I got it.




One more adjustment and I think I’ll have it.




still working on it – #98

I’m just trying to get into the motion and thoughts. There’s just lines then more lines. I only work on it before I go to bed. It’s kind of a new born meaning to it. This is practice for now. I’ll do a little more but not much. I’m almost borderline fucking it up.



I’m recording it for another video. It takes longer when I have my phone cam directly in front of my face. The recording, being so close to my face, picks up my breathing and lip chewing. It sounds like an ape eating pudding with a fork.



one day


This was  the day before I stopped working. It’s around February 14, 2018. My back hurt so bad and nothing was getting rid of the excruciating pain I’d endured for over 5 years. I remember standing at the elevator at work. Leaning against the wall, I told someone how much pain I was in. In minutes I was surrounded by a crowd but couldn’t tell who was who. A bottle of medication was put in my hand and the words, “this will help you” stuck in my memory. The medication was put in my pocket and I went to the unused office on the third floor. I had to escape from everyone for a while. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to be consoled, I didn’t want sympathy. I just wanted to not be in pain. The office door closed behind me. The room was hot, everyone I work with wants heat. That’s all I feel all day is heat and hot. I hate the heat, that’s why I left Florida. I opened the windows and let the cool February air in. It wasn’t freezing cold but the wind was blowing pretty good. I could hear tree branches snapping in the woods. Then I pulled the bottle of pills out someone gave me. It said “take as needed” so I kept reading. The letters Oxycodone appeared and I thought now way. I’m not going to be an addict but the pain said otherwise. In the mini-frig was a half a bottle of water. Against my best judgment I washed down my first ever non-prescribed narcotic then laid flat on the floor to relieve the pressure from my back. I could hear people in the hallway going about their lives and I could feel the effects of the medication. I relaxed as I laid on the floor. I could hear the wind blowing through the trees. I don’t know how much time went by but my pain was bearable. I sat in a chair and stared out the window. This is what I saw, the trees blowing in the wind. I sat there for what seemed like an hour but in actuality it was minutes. I sat there and recorded the last moments of how my life was then. My final words were sent to my manager, “I have to leave now”, not knowing when, if ever, I was coming back.




I was sketching out some ideas. Afterwards I decided to try and combine several of them. I referred back to a couple of old drawings and put everything together as one. Then it’s sat here for five days. I’ll stop by and stare at it daring to add or subtract, daring to start putting ink over the outlines. This got me to thinking, this is how I think about everything. Everything has to be planned and organized ahead of time. Nothing can be added or taken away without carefully thinking it out. Nothing can be thrown at me after this process and if there is, I stop. At work if there’s a meeting, which I hate, it’s rare that I attend. If I’m given too much notice I over think it and it becomes a huge problem. The thought of doing something out of my normal life flow just flips me out. Last minute changes to plans have the same affect. But anyway, this is my new project #96.





#95 – a painting and some random blathering

I asked the surgeon if I could go back to work. He seemed surprised that I asked but signed me off. My employer tried to find someone to replace me while I was gone so long but rehired me as soon as the release form came through to their email. Now I feel like I really owe them for everything they’ve done for me while I was away. They were actually paying for my insurance coverage even though I wasn’t getting paid after using up all of my FMLA short term disability. On top of that they gave me a raise. But I think I made a mistake. I came back to early. I thought I was ok because I got up to walking a mile everyday but that didn’t include other physical motions. I had my regular doctors appointment last week and told her I went back to work and she seemed concerned. She mentioned four to six months is normal for the surgery I had. It’s only been two and a half months for me. After my third week at work I’m certain I’m not ready to return, so after work (and during) I’m taking pain meds. The meds make me active before totally kicking in and knocking me out. But during the active time I’m trying to learn watercolor painting. It’s difficult and possibly one of the harder things to learn. But I’m trying to get depth with layers. The subject isn’t the focal point.