Have You Ever Worn a Giant Bird Hat?

Because I sure have!!! Excuse the roughness of the drawings I'm putting up, they are all directly scanned from my sketchbook. The drawing displayed above depicts a fond memory from my childhood, when I used to wear a giant bird hat and my body was fueled by the giant heart that was popping out of the bird hat. Yes, it really all makes sense, when you stop and think about it...


Otherwise, I am starting to do a little research into war posters. There are some fascinating images, they tend to be simple, direct, and very powerful (and sometimes downright weird). I don't always care for the message, but in terms of design, they can be intriguing. Please let me know if there are war posters you find interesting, or if you come across any that are weird and hilarious. Those are usually my favorite ones. I saw one that had a bulldog with the face of Churchill. It kind of freaked me out, so I will spare you from seeing that image!

These are some war poster books I'm looking forward to checking out from the library or tracking down one way or another:

Design for Victory

And I am trying to track this one down, the library has it, but it has been checked out since 1996. I tend to be an optimist, but I have a feeling this book is never coming back...

Persuasive Images

Another book that was recently published is about posters from the Cold War, looks promising:

Posters of the Cold War

Let's Go For a Ride

This is a little sketch I scanned from my sketchbook. It is not a very clean drawing, but it clearly illustrates a memory from my youth.

I used to hang out with this little kid, and he would drive us around in this egg-shaped car that had helicopter wings on top. I usually had to drink a lot of liquor, because my little kid friend was not a very good driver. The alcohol helped me deal with my terrible fear of dying in a fiery car accident. Of course we ended up having accidents, but I was fortunate, I had the constitution of a bear, so when we did end up in those wrecks, I didn't suffer too badly. A little scratch here, a little scratch there. And my little driving companion didn't ever get hurt either, thank the good lord.

I will rehash other memories in the coming months on this blog... I had a period of time where I was a bear priest in Southern Mexico. Also went through a period where I made my living as a bear wrestler (I mean I was a bear that wrestled, not someone who wrestled bears, at least I didn't consistently wrestle other bears. I did fight against psychotic steroid popping gophers, transexual myopic raccoons ridden with rabies, and 3-legged 1-eyed crocodiles who had leather fetishes. I digress. But I do have to mention, not without some pride, that I won all those fights.).

This wrestling faze, like my career as a bear priest, took place in Mexico. I actually have quite a few wonderful memories from my time in Mexico.

Why?

Why is there always a fly in my glass of water?

No, seriously. Why?

At least the flies aren't crawling up inside my eyeballs. That exact situation happened a while back, and it was a most unpleasant experience. Let me tell you about it.

First of all, I have no clue as to how the flies ended up behind my eyeballs. They just did, ok?

So these flies behind my eyeballs were a problem. My dog and I brainstormed for solutions. We decided that he needed to crawl into my ear with a waterbottle and flashlight and attempt to flush out the flies from my eyeballs. Granted, it was a risky idea, considering the fact that neither my dog nor me are familiar with human anatomy, but we said what the hey, let's quickly check out the Artist's Guide to Anatomy and give this thing a shot.

Before starting this endeavor, I turned on the radio and set it to NPR. It was my dog who wanted to listen to NPR, he said it helps him concentrate.

So my dog crawled and squished himself up into my ear and into my head. How did he find the courage? I don't know, he's a eff'n hero and he eats his frosty flakes, that's all I know. Then, with unparalleled agility and surgical precision he managed to find the flies behind my eyeballs and he washed them out with water from his bottle. I was happy to be rid of those symbols of death.

Thankfully, due to my dog's extreme dexterity, I survived this episode without any serious damage to my eyeballs. And I was back to my carefree self again! I felt free, free like a bird, and with this sense of regained freedom I resumed my favorite hobbies: frolicking and rolling around in mud; breaking dinner plates and porcelain wares with my favorite hammer; nailing thousands upon thousands of nails in beautiful arabesque patterns all over my neighbor's bedroom (sometimes I house-sit on weekends); putting on African masks and reading The Odyssey in the original Dutch while the rabbits from my yard eat chocolate bunny rabbits and dance around me chanting about the end of the world (the rabbits tell me the act of eating the chocolate bunnies is symbolic, of what, I still don't know). I also resumed my habit of burying my friends' Ipods and other expensive electronic equipment in my backyard. I don't know why I have that habit, but it helps me relax, and you know what, who cares about the why so long as something is enjoyable and relaxing.

In real news... Someone told me about this commercial they saw, something about a talking squirrel and Abraham Lincoln. I felt like telling them that I too talked to squirrels, I've never spoken to Abraham Lincoln though, but definitely had serious intellectual debates with these squirrels in my yard. A subject we particularly enjoy discussing is the history of land ownership and its socio-economic impacts. The squirrels say property rights are the foundation of capitalism. I think it's chocolate. Anyways, those squirrels have amazing analytical skills, I think they made a pact with the devil, in exchange for their souls they were given reasoning skills and 20 kilos of heroin. Good deal.

A Thought on Memories and Health.

Sometimes memories are terrible.

I don't mean the memories themselves are terrible. But it's more how they make you feel in remembering them... they come back and remind you of things you once had but have now lost or will never recapture. Before I got sick I never really had memories haunt me like they have at times this past year. And I don't particularly enjoy wallowing in memories and nostalgia, but you can't control everything in life, sometimes it's unavoidable, and you just gotta feel what you gotta feel.

A particular thing happened to me a couple days ago that triggered this recent phantasmagoria of memories. And this time the intensity of the memories has been very strong... I've had a hard escaping them.

But today the memories and nostalgia have finally eased up. I'm back to thinking in the present and thinking of the future, I'm settling back into my rhythm, my mindset and optimism, and it feels very good.

This whole trip down memory lane just amplifies my desire to fully recover. I'm going to cry and cry and cry with joy the day I finally am free to work and do things again. I try not to get too bothered by the fatigue that still hampers me... I'm getting better, I feel so much more like myself, and I feel so close, like I'm on the cusp... but this fatigue feels like some sort of invisible wall that just magically prevents me from doing stuff. But after all the pain I had, I'm just thankful that the days are so much more peaceful, at least my body can get the rest it needs now. I know I've said a lot of this stuff before, but it helps to write it again every once in a while. It helps me organize my thoughts...

And there is good news on a medical level, my doctor was really encouraged by my blood tests and the virus levels. I'm not sure what all the numbers mean, but good things are happening. This happened about a month ago but I think about it often, it's very comforting to know that besides how I feel, there are invisible things happening in my body that are supposedly good.

So, what exactly am I gonna do when I'm better? Let me tell you: I'm gonna get so drunk for like a week straight and drink so much tequila I'm gonna forget my name and wake up in some gutter in Mexico.

No, no I won't do that, but I should...

A certain thought keeps coming to mind, I don't know where I read it, but I think it's part of the Buddha's teachings: all suffering stems from desire. I guess it's a good thing to keep in mind.

I'm Going to Be Candid With You, This Is About Memories and Illness (yawn, booorrriiinnnggg)

I've never been a nostalgic person, but being ill has certainly changed that a bit. There are times where my mind just wanders, where it haphazardly zeroes in on some past memories. These memories play out in my mind (uh, like where else are they gonna play out!), sometimes the memories are slightly edited (like that memory where I walk into a restaurant and get revenge on 15 mafioso types and crooked cops who tried to screw me...15 minutes later I walk out of the restaurant with a wry smile on my face, a couple bloodspots on my fancy shirt indicate a fight has taken place, a pool of blood flows out from under the door. Ahhh, those were the happy, halcyon days of yore!!!).

Sorry, I lost my line of thought, I just really get into that kickass Dirty Harryish memory I was telling you about. I really gave it to those bad guys.

Yes, our memories tend to fuzz up the details, but that's the nature of memories I guess, they shift and transform themselves depending on your mood and circumstances. Sometimes the memories are tough for me, it's a tough pill to swallow, remembering being healthy, remembering good times, sometimes even remembering the bad times can make me wistful for the bygone days where life wasn't limited by illness. At times when I feel really sick and I'm in pain, any and all memories are like acid, they eat up my insides in the most terrible gut wrenching ways...

It's been easier lately because I know I'm going to get better, before I felt so sick, the illness felt so endless, so insurmountable, the pain was excruciating... The memories just felt like distant mirages, cruel little vignettes that reminded me of what I once was, something I might never have again... And believe me, I'm still incredibly scared, I won't breathe easy until the day I'm back to my old self.

I truly believe whenever my illness is over I'll look back on this whole godforsaken period as a gift, a transformative period, an experience that broke me down and melted me all the way down to my core, only to transform me into a stronger and better element (don't you love corny metaphors!). Uhh, these are the things I tell myself at least, haha, how else can you get through such a difficult experience! But seriously, I feel like I've discovered strength within myself, strength I never imagined I had... and for that I am extremely thankful, this strength keeps my mind stable (yes, it really is in spite of what you might think!!!), keeps me optimistic, keeps me happy...

Anyways, although many of my friends/ family think this whole illness is a terrible trick played upon me, a sad unlucky experience for me to go through, I know in my heart that I am very lucky. I'm not the only one suffering, I don't have a monopoly on that, all I can do is do my best, find inspiration in any nook and cranny I can... And I never ever forget how blessed I am, with family and friends, with people that love me and that I love...

Moreover, my love of life has only increased because of this experience. My love of people, my family, friends, the world, I find myself with a deeper appreciation of lots of things (like violent movies especially). I'm thankful every day, I'm still alive, I'm going to get better, I've got a wonderful family, I might have a wonderful dog soon!, I think of the crazy amount of painting I'm going to do when I'm better, I think of visiting my grandparents in France, I think of riding my bike, I think of laughing with friends, I think of executing Rambo style revenge on all those people that dissed me while I was down (yes, some have taken cheap shots, those bastards! Actually I could care less what they think, I just have fun thinking of vendettas, they make me laugh), I think of freedom baby!