graffiti. who gives a shit about it? there is so much graffiti in north hollywood. these b.a.m.f.'s waddle around in their cool clothes and scribble their "signature scribble" on a brick wall, or the ground, or a dumpster. "hey guys, this here dumpster is MYYY dumpster." there's an alley behind my apartment, and some guy wrote "our alley . . ." and then trailed off into some sig. scribb. . i'm debating writing is very clear letters "mine too, we are friends now." maybe a little winking smiley face. i'm gonna start tagging cool things, like tires, starbucks cups, dog turds and tennis balls. sleeping homeless ladies, bus drivers, flowers and roadkill. i already have a signature scribble. ok. here are a few others from the last day or so. . . .
* * *i dont condone words like these. i voted no on 8. it's the devil talking, thats all. . . .* * *
lastly, i leave you with some old papers i found in my box labeled "shit".
how's it goin folks? you don't say! after a long stretch of work days, 2 weeks straight to be exact, friday is finally here. i'm thinking of animating this weekend. i work so much better when i'm not wearing pants.
i found an elderly sketch book of mine.
exhibit a:
followed by a couple quick little "i-can't think-of-what-to-draw-so-make-some-random-shit-up" kind of doodles. i find them amusing. but hey, can't speak for everyone.
classic 'jordan's a sick bitch" humor here.
and a glimpse into my dreamland. . .
and lastly, i embarrass myself with a lame drawing of conan o'brien i did because a friend made me miss him. i have been without cable for a month and a half now. it's painful, but i feel a little more productive. i just really miss watching the stock market and oprah and what not to wear and scrambled porn. but you get by. one day at a time. this is conan off the top of my head, pretty lame. but practice is supposedly going to make perfect, which will ultimately go nowhere for me anyway.
ok i lied. lastly (again) is what i think everyone's friday song should be.