I can't draw for shit, but then neither could those stone age dudes who scribbled all over their cave walls. They, like me, just wanted to represent what they saw. And what they didn't see: what they imagined; and perhaps, what they felt.
This one was the prelude to a lesson in recycling - the idea was to go on and compare recycling to rocket science, to wit working out if something should be put in the recycling box or in the bin is not as mentally challenging as getting three men in a (sinking) boat back to Earth when they're more than 3.2x108m away, and accelerating. Then I couldn't be bothered. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you do what you can, you can't do much more than that.
At the moment I'm embroiled in a discussion over a suitable name for an establishment that, alongside serving tea and coffee and tasty cupcakes, also repairs gentlemen's and ladies' velocipedes. It's important to get the damn name right though I can't seem to get away from that hackneyed "What's in a name?" line. As previous writing will attest, it's been in my head for a number of weeks and a while ago I drew this:
As to the origins of this, well, I don't want to talk about it. So let's invent an origin. Let's pretend it's fanfic. Yeah, that's it: because of my admiration for Shakespeare's work I decided to add a couple of lines to the final scene of his most famous romance. I wish I could claim I was that perceptive and had set out to introduce an exchange where Romeo demonstrates his newfound wisdom with a duelling repartee. In retrospect, and if you take it superficially, it fits rather well, but to submit such a claim would be bunkum. This is demonstrated by the fact that, in deference to me simply not getting a lot of Shakespeare, I'm going to further make believe that he would have been happy with the inclusion of "chuckled."
To disclose its actual roots would be to reveal how I am, in the very truest sense of the word, a fool.
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