Stay up all night. Start drawing. 30 minutes in I had this (above).
Homeless people taught me to finger paint. Really, they did. You know what I mean. But this is line drawing.
Inspiration comes, I came and went.
If you think great art comes from the labor of love, toiling over a hot oven day after day to bake the perfect pie. I can tell you this, the perfect pie can only be born, not baked. Art for me has always been hovering around the 6th grade level, somewhere before dreams are crushed by the anxiety of growing old. I try not. I merely do. I wait for inspiration and let it drive me. My grandfather always said you can't squeeze blood out of a Turnip. True. You can only squeeze Turnip Juice. And in the light of juicing it up Jack Lalanne style, I bring to you the next installment of the Leauge of Shallows (Pt. 2).
Skid Row has been growing on me. More and more I think I ought to go down there and buy a loft. Grow a beard and brew my own beer. Maybe I can live out of a (used) school bus parked on a city street and when the business owners complain as they always do, and the cops ask me ever so politely to move on, I can merely drive around the block and find a new parking spot. I'd need some kind of castle draw bridge ramp set up in the back of the bus for motos! That's for sure. The media makes it seem so savage. The statistics paint pictures only a sociopathic maniac could imagine. Saturday April 7th, we'll Rise Above Los Angelees to the tip of Mount Wilson. What's there you say? The view. For if the journey is better than the destination, we'll let the destination become the journey. Do you know they have (had) a telescope there (the largest in the world at the time) called the "Hooker Telescope." Above Los Angeles you say? I wonder why? Hear tell, you can spot hookers on Figueroa form the top of the mountian on a smogless night.
If you plan on riding with us, we'll be leaving at 2:00 pm on Saturday, April 7th from the Gasser Lounge to the top of the mount. We'll come on back then for some liquidity and the hesitant awaiting of the return of Jesus who's rummored to be returning, yet again, to the best rock and roll bar in the South Bay. What might that be? I thought you'd never ask. The Gasser Lounge.
Happy Easter one and all, for the garage builders, to the stock bike commuters, to the ("we don't exist" yeah, you do.) Chopper Elite, you're all golden. Look inside yourself and discover your inner easter egg.
Who said anything about t-shirts? You already know.