Nectareen

For a few days I suffered from chronic artist's block, artist's constipation rather. Unable to draw anything that really resonated with me, but after one day of refueling on fruit, the creativity is now palpitating through my veins like a drug. Its  rush, and its a frustration that will be relieved once I get a new pad of vellum, or Bristol maybe. I don't know yet. I believe that its the art that makes the artist. Materials are merely mediums. I have no excuse for bad art just because I'm not using expensive tools. I did my best work, I think, with dry watercolor pencils on vellum. I never thought I could accomplish it but I did. I ignored th

So, I'm a professional troglodyte, a true hermit if you will. I never leave my house unless to say, go to the store, ride my bike and such. So, as non-social as I am, its not much a mystery to see that my art also goes unseen. The internet is my only connection to the outside world, but I have no scanner right now and don't believe in using phone cameras for artwork presentation online unless, for say, Facebook. I am the only alien in my neighborhood, rending me completely alone. Also unemployed, I stay at home and work on artwork, and write. Unfortunately I haven't been able to do much creative writing rather than the "philosojournal"ing tha

Its sundown on a now alien planet. A city is being destroyed, the terrestrials are being exterminated. Miles away from the mushroom clouds and fallen ironwork Anticipatory, sneering with triumph The being feels the strange flesh of a terrestrial female with one long digit As she invites its rude touch, her jumpsuit peeled from her shoulders.