Portrait of the artist as a slob

Tonight was homework night. Despite that, I'm beginning to feel the itch to clean my house (which, if you know me, you know doesn't come very often). It's getting out of control in here, and something is going to have to be done. But tonight was not the night to do it. Instead, I drew my bitmap alphabet, finished up making type convey the idea of the quote, and wrote a couple poems follow William Carlos Williams' example.

(I also read about 100 pages of New Moon, the second of that teeny bopper vampire series I've gotten sucked into. Shhh, don't tell anyone. I can feel my literary snob street cred slipping away.)

Anyway, here's one of my attempts at a plainer style of poetry (no, they weren't all this short):

Broken Watch

It sits

dismantled


When I got to the second line, I stared at it for about 10 minutes thinking, what comes next? Then I realized nothing did. That was it. The poem was done. What more was there to say if I wasn't allowed to blather on with metaphors about lost time and frozen time and the freedom of the wrist from timely oppression? Nothing, that's what.

Last but not least, a couple self-portraits. Monday's is a drawing done because my camera was out on loan. The subject matter springs from a recent feeling that I am in fact getting older. Today's is my art/homework corner, plus my delicious dinner. Yum.