a hedon harbors heartaches hosting harmful habits
laying with liars leaving love for lust

vivid verses vastly varied by vexes
formed from fevers freed from festering feelings

bitter blows born and bared brutally
amidst an ambivalence aroused by artifice

F R C M

in a flawed fit of forlorn fevers formed in a fiery furnace
fucked by fondling fingers and fickle feelings
falsely forbidden by phases falls upon the fleeting flames
what flowed so fluidly in froth, now flees in fraudulent forces

revealed reality reaffirmed by remembering relics and reservations
what was reveled by rewards of residual remnants of relations
relied on wrong realizations of roused recollections
reproached the riddle in the redeeming room of the righteous

compiled the chronicles of conscious crimes
calls cognizance with credence conjured by confidence
clarifying chaos committed by a covetous cupid
collects and considers continuous courses of the craze of cravings

melancholic memories mostly mourned by moments of madness
meddled in meandering mania mobilized by mystery
mentally maladroit moving through moans and muck
musters meaning in motivations marveled in magnetism

dormant child arise

The gruesome wanderings stirred at night
a plague brooded with the rats in the gutter

An offering of a mystery is championed by reason
the unmolested virgin stayed asleep

The alarm beckoned in a silence
deafened the ears pierced by the blind

The peculiar mundanely lived
as a limbless midget on a thursday afternoon

The taste of a tongue turned sour
prickly plants poked at the pores

A black hole appeared at midnight
dusk cursed the sleeping

The stillness caused a fever
chaos twiddled its thumbs

The lush fingered the demon
through the strings of the siren

sang the songs in streams of breath
shook the dormant child awake

cradled by the sea, lit by the moon
pale of the night, with the waves--- arise

outside the house is a forest
where the boars and the bears and the foxes live
i'd like to go outside the house, but i guess hunters might mistake me as a boar or a bear or a fox
so if i'm gone bc i've been hunted
let's just stop killing the boars and the bears and the foxes

January/February drawings

This past week

Mostly selfie & boyzz

I don't even know anymore 

My queen

I've never met a woman as beautifully effortless as my grandmother in front of the camera. It's the way she doesn't acknowledge my presence when I photograph her, allowing me to catch her in all her moments in between each private thought. She's beautiful and she's strong, yet vulnerable and all feeling. She is my muse, a goddess, and my queen.

Pattern Drawings

 Blue 

RGB

 Micro-Cubes

Repurpose Cubes

Paintings on Discarded Magazine Pages

 The Kennedys

 John Addams

 Ronal Washington

 Pixelated at Guantanamo Bay 

 Bill Cosby with White Face

Forced Smile Extras 

Red Eye

The boy who stole my thunder

Roscoe wears my scarf better than me ~__~

No. 1-15159

 No. 1-4372

 No. 4372-9649

 No. 9649-15159

No. 1-15159

This is how I manifest absurdity into a drawing. Unfortunately, this was a means to procrastinate applying for grad schools. It hurts my head how awful I've been with being mindful with managing time, but if I'm making work while I procrastinate, I've talked myself into thinking I'm still being productive in one thing, even though I know I am highly disregarding the hierarchy of priority. In the end, I am left with a little bit of guilt and a little bit of satisfaction. My behavior is so ridiculously contradicting... I can concentrate for long periods of time, and be highly meticulous and fastidious with the most intensive tedium of processes, but stubbornly, it has to be on my own terms. It makes me selfish, unreliable, and downright dumb. I just want to make work, stay in my studio for all hours of the day, but the world requires so much more, and to get to the point, there's a lot that needs to get done.... Artists are required to do other things than make art to get to the place they want to be.  In an ideal world, I can live just making art and nothing else, but *sigh* life is full of senseless activities. Everyday I imagine a life where people did what made them happy all the time. That would cut out a great extension of suffering and misery, but that's not the world we live in, and I am not in a dream. I can't fight it forever or else I'll stay inside too long. Must get back to thinking about doing what I'm suppose to do. 

Beach Day
Acrylic on Found Magazine
2013

Alien with Bruised Knees

You don't climb a mountain, and expect to return a new person. You are extended by the experience of climbing that mountain and everything you've accumulated in between. We should not attempt to edit, but to proceed with allowing both our treasured memories and our mistakes to co-exist and cooperate. To censor ones thoughts is to limit the possibility of being free. You can't attain the boundless opportunity of thought if you don't want to see truth. Freedom is only, but a state of mind.

There is no place our minds can't go. It is the stubborn pride of the pig that can prevent one to see, and the graciousness of a bird to allow you to see everything. To exist in the moment is the ability to be aware of the fragility of existence and expose the fleeting moments as important as the next. You are clumsy if you fail to see your mortality. Without death, life would have no value nor meaning. To care about living is to give meaning to the boundaries of time. We acknowledge death as inevitable and escapable, the men and woman who have attained immortality are the ones who shudder at the idea of death the most. 

There's always something about that moon.

Repurpose cubes (cube drawing III) for Kirsten, Stephen, Ingrid, and Kaja

This week in the studio