This small piece has garnered me more responses and requests than any other in a long, long time. A pleasant surprise, really… and it kicked my ass in gear to finally get my store online. The Ouroboros broke me out of the gate, but it’s only the first. I put The Absinthe Drinker on things, too… but, there’s more to come.
If you have a request for art from my website to be on anything in the store… fire it my way.
Getting your comments at my website and at the DIRTY WETT™ Facebook Page has helped me a lot by giving me an idea of how my artwork resonates with others. That’s an essential ingredient in what keeps me creating.
In the hopes of snowballing that brand of inspiration, I’m shamelessly soliciting those of you on Facebook for your a minute or two of your browsing time. Pretty please? Could you use the “Suggest to Friends” function and select those who you think might like what I do and/or know me? If you’re not familiar with this function, I made this picture as a simple guide.
I sincerely appreciate your show of support by doing this… and in a month or so I think I’ll concoct some sort of art giveaway as an effort to prove it.
I blew months worth of dust off my bass guitars last night and strapped them on again to realize I play them just as badly as when I last hung them up. Even so… damn, it felt great!
When I got my first bass, a Fender acoustic, it didn’t take much practice to go from clueless to terrible, but inspired! So, I thought, “Where did that inspiration go?” And I couldn’t answer that, because quite honestly I don’t feel I’ve lost an ounce of inspiration. Focus, maybe… but inspiration? None.
That’s when it hit me… and there was nothing left to think about! On that whim I ran out to get some art printed for the pick guard of my electric bass that’s been stark white since I got it. It may not look like much, but there are three people who, within it, might see everything… and see everything clearly.
I think that kind of focus could keep us all inspired.
It’s been almost two weeks since I planted a fistful of African Dream Root seeds.
Of all of them… none germinated, none sprouted.
So, yesterday morning after I woke up from one dream to see another end, I thought it would be an appropriate time to throw away these dud seeds, too. As I went to do so I was surprised to notice a single seed had sprung to life as I’d slept! And, although there was barely a waning crescent in the sky that night, I bet it was the moonlight that inspired it to grow. I know, because I’ve basked in some myself.
From that I faced a trying day with unexpected confidence, understanding that for every dream you are awakened from the future will always bring another.
I named the seedling, Satchmo, after Louis Armstrong.
I was just cutting mushrooms and thinking about Terence McKenna’s hypothesis that, since spores can survive in the vacuum of space, perhaps mushrooms (specifically those containing psilocybin) came to us from an advanced intelligence that communicates with us via their ingestion. A heroic dose might even lead one to ponder the plausibility of that theory… but, who the hell can say for sure, really?
I’m just amused by slicing them down the center of the stipe. They kind of look like a stoned alien.
In the fall of 1998 I paid for a ticket to Pleasantville – a movie I’d never heard of – with a pocketful of coins that got me off the streets and out of the rain for a while. I loved it.
Eleven years of change have passed since then and tonight I’m going to watch it again. I wonder if it will resonate the same with me now. I think so, but it doesn’t much matter. I’m going to watch it with the girl I love.
I blew months worth of dust off my bass guitars last night and strapped them on again to realize I play them just as badly as when I last hung them up. Even so… damn, it felt great! 
It’s been almost two weeks since I planted a fistful of 
I was just cutting mushrooms and thinking about 
