NAVEL-GAZING

I am confessing a secret: I have been slacking off in my animation duties. Only two nights this week have been devoted to some serious Photoshop work. The other nights have been spent sitting on my couch, reneging on my pot reduction, and trying to somehow vent my emotions without getting into some sort of irrational state.

I woke up this morning, refreshed, well-rested. I think I've gotten the grief out of me.

My grandmother is fine. She left the hospital Monday, but I never shed a single tear over it. I opted instead to force my grief out of me through other avenues. It took longer than if I just cried, but I feel better for it.


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I received a copy of SPIN magazine in the mail... and in an interview, 50 Cent claimed that he didn't smoke weed... ever.

If this is true (which it most definitely isn't) then that would make 50 the shrewdest gangsta rapper in the history of hip-hop. I think 50 knows that this would entitle him to the All-Time Rap Shrewdness crown, so I think that's why he said it.

As our current President has demonstrated time and time again, you can say anything to the press. They'll only take you to task if they don't like you... or, if your father used to run the CIA and operates his business interests the way the Corleones did in The Godfather...

I hope 50 is telling the truth about his weed habit, because if he is, then I will quit cold turkey. The notion of the man who wrote "High All The Time" never taking a puff of the ganja is subversive as hell, and it would inspire me to stop toking. I mean, I've been making great strides to cut down, but I like it too much.

Here's to hoping 50 is straight and sober.


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I am feeling attractive, despite not being involved with anyone in particular.

Lately I've been noticing women staring at me or whispering to their friends as I walk by. These are women I am not acquainted with, and for all I know they are laughing at me because I have a booger hanging out of my nose.

Or, maybe I'm finally seeing what people have been telling me all of my life: I am not bad-looking.

I'm not Brad Pitt, and of course I'm not everyone's cup of tea... but the girls who like me are showing me that they like me, and that feels cool.

I'm too hard on myself. Now is a good time to lighten up and realize that I won't be able to make every girl fall in love with me. But just the fact that they like being around me is enough.

There's a girl in this office who has a crush on me. I'm not going to assume that she loves me-- I'm just going to bask in the attention I receive from her for a while. She is cute, and I know that the reason she has a crush on me is because I am nice to her and I don't hit on her.

She feels secure around me.

Do I like her back? No, but she is cute. She is sweet. She is likable. She is also very young, and she will find out on her own that I'm not The One. But it will be nice to have that attention, for a little while.

I think the reason why I obsess about women so much is because, for all my talk of being able to do it all on my own, I need them. I really do need them, every last one of them. I think the girls who put up with me know this, and let me have my little delusion of being independent and self-sufficient because they know I'll be back, asking them to show me a little love.

I'm like an alley cat, and all these women feed me and pet me and treat me real nice, and then I'm off down the alley again, getting fleas and digging in trash cans, meowing all night...


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My life is at a peculiar balance right now. As we get ready to go into Mercury's retrograde, I am steady and ready and stable. I am prepared to take the next step and start painting. My mind has been rehearsing the moment when I would know what to do, and last night I saw a sign in the sky, an epiphany, and I realized that I can start painting now. The inspiration is inside of me.

I have three colors of paint, some brushes, some blank canvases, and my easel. I'm ready.

I wrote a song about Holly Golightly the other night. It just poured out of me. Usually I write the words first, then the music... but this one was a piece of music I'd had kicking around for ten years. I gave it to Katie, and she came up with some lyrics for it... but my lyrics are way better.

I also have the Plaster of Paris that Paulie gave me-- maybe this weekend will be a creative one, coinciding with the arriving of Spring sometime soon.

Yes, let's make it symbolic.

Let's tie it in with rebirth and renewal and the myth of Christ rising from the dead and the return of Dionysis and the end of The Waste Land and the healing of the Fisher King and the birthdate of The Messiah being on the last and first day of the Zodiac calendar, making him the Alpha, The Omega, the beginning, the end, the snake that bit its own tail and held on, until it rolled itself into a circle and spiraled out of control, inventing the Cosmos in its wake...

Yes, let's.