I've got a poem to write

I think it would be very interesting if someone attempted to build a Francis Picabia-centric theme park.

I've decided to abandon my children's book illustration aspirations of time past. The notion of surrendering elements such as, I don't know...gristle (gore?) along with the utilization of metaphor in order to comply with industry standards just plain sucks. I don't mean to say that the children's book industry is completely barren of such elements...it just seems that, in a college atmosphere, illustrators are encouraged to discard the desire to toy with the complexities that are commonly associated with images that are intended for older audiences. Gah...it is absurd to think that my abilities are being stunted by the market of work that I have, up until now, been pursuing. How could working within a specific field assign such limiting parameters to my work, to the point where the fear of being defined (or whatever) is able to wrap itself around my ankles? I guess I'm just searching for a comfortable place. It would be nice to create images without being troubled by the censorship that governs the content of picture books for children.

I really waste my free time.

a holiday of perspiration

#54: With a very strong light, one can make the world disappear. Before weak eyes it will become solid; before still weaker eyes, it will acquire fists; and to eyes yet weaker, it will be embarrassed and punch the face of anyone who dares to look at it.

I'm not sure if I like that translation.

I have been awake since Saturday morning. I feel like I am sinking into a fissure populated by the carcasses of ancient coelacanths, armored with automated mandibles that refuse to stifle their snapping.