Falling asleep to cartoons.

I watched (500) Days of Summer with Brenna the other night. The film struck really close to home and I was glad to not be watching it alone, as the sis recommended I not do. I loved the visual appeal of the film as well as the content, it came with a touch of classy and left with a touch of ‘why does that always happen?’

I saw my counselor for the first time in probably two years yesterday. She seemed pleasantly happy to see me and, as always, our session ran long. The sleeping was moderately better last night, but even still, I think I have a long ways to go before finally being able to have a nice relaxing night’s rest.

I had a brief dream this morning of being in a diner that felt like it was in Georgetown (Seattle). I don’t remember what I ordered, but as I was getting ready to leave two men came in with freshly lit cigarettes which the waitress joked with them about on how under Washington law they had still yet to put up the no smoking sign. They walked over to the front door and put out their cigarettes in a small knee-high ashtray.

I’ve been debating running away to have an adventure before going to school. I would drive up to Canada and then drive down to Georgetown (California) and live with my Grandma before making it back to Montana for school. I’m not sure I’ll actually go through with this, but its been on my mind the past few days as an option.

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Windy Coffee. [part 1]

Fulya was looking at my sketchbook the other day and remarked that she liked the random sketch that I had made of some girl that I saw walking along with a little plastic cup of coffee during the wind storm a few weeks past. As I still have some small pieces of very good watercolor paper [that I had sized to be used for some small frames I had collected but did not have anything to put in them yet], I thought that perhaps I could transfer a little sketch to a little piece of paper to play with techniques. Namely the layering of water colors. Something that I know I have been working on a lot, but practice makes perfect. I also wanted to see how using my new mechanical pencil filled with blue graphite would work in hiding my lines as I initially worked. I forgot to take a picture of the transition between not having the girl inked at all to inking her and starting the background. I was having a hell of a time trying to figure out a setting in which to put her. At first I was th

French underworld tattoos at the turn of the century. The man sports a tattooed mustache intended to foil the prohibition of facial hair in the Foreign Legion. The World of Tattoo by Maarten Hesselt van Dinter. I can only dream of being anywhere near that combination of badass and crazy. Though at that point the Foreign Legion was probably still the best place for criminals to get their record cleaned so perhaps he is as well quite legitimately scary upon all of that. I find myself flipping back to this page time and time again to romanticize the French underground from around 1900. Give him an accordion, a beret, and some braces. Prostitutes who could easily kill you if you ever come up short and tattoo the names of their ‘actual’ lovers between their breasts, close to their heart. Tattoo ‘Je mother fucking t’aime’ in a tattoo cursive along my collar bones.

The adventure continues.

So, I haven't written much lately.. but from the doldrums of the end of semester I then entered a time period of a flânerie across France. A last hurrah. Jessye came to visit again and the tiny room was packed up all into a few suitcases, the largest being named Bertha, and Rennes was left behind, although not before having a picnic in Thabor for the last Saturday market... We got the essentials. Madeleines (where as I reached the front of the line the vendor greeted me with a question of, '6 madelines?') with a few more of that vendor's delicious delights, like those bite size rolls with jams and caramel and chocolate.. Then of course the impossible cow cheese that acted like goat cheese and was rolled in Provencal herbs. And of course a baguette from the amazing bakery covered in tiles. A trip to Thabor with Jessye was never complete without a stop at the aviary. And some people watching. A mohawked punk rocker walks a little girl hand in hand through the park.

High Contrast Grey.

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