Pardon our dust

My com­put­er has been down for the last few days. This stuff used to scare me when I had to make my liv­ing with this thing, but I still missed being online, play­ing music, and watch­ing TV and movies. With­out my com­put­er I have only books. Oh, and the gym.

I read recent­ly about a guy who dropped off the grid, bailed from the online world. Part of me real­ly envies that.

In oth­er news, although I already bored xris with this, I doo­dled while I was on the phone yes­ter­day. Made some­thing that actu­al­ly looked like a face, and it looked like it was one of my draw­ings. About ten years ago I had a hand that was unafraid and I would sketch in pen and just scrib­ble loose­ly until I had formed an image and refine it with rep­e­ti­tion. I could always tell my own sketch­es. Now, I don’t draw enough to have a style. I hold on tight to a few styl­is­tic deci­sions, and I keep my work very stark and con­trolled, but what the hell is that? It’s not trust­ing my own damn hands and hav­ing to force the issue in order to get any­thing good down on paper. The oth­er day, my hands proved to me that I could trust them.

I need to let them. I need to draw.

(The sketch to the right was done on a bus in 1989 and is not the recent doodle)