René Descartes (1596–1650)
Descartes was a late riser. The French philosopher liked to sleep until mid-morning, then linger in bed, thinking and writing, until 11:00 or so.
His comfortable bachelor’s life ended abruptly in late 1649, Descartes accepted a position in the court of Queen Christina of Sweden.
Descartes accepted a position in the court of Queen Christina of Sweden,Arriving in Sweden, in time for one of the coldest winters in memory, Descartes was notified that his lessons to Queen Christina would take place in the mornings—beginning at 5:00 A.M. He had no choice but to obey. But the early hours and bitter cold were too much for him. After only a month on the new schedule, Descartes fell ill, apparently of pneumonia; ten days later he was dead.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
(English: "I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am")”
― Rene Descartes
#dailyrituals #inktober #reneDescartes @masoncurrey #wouldratherdiethangetupearly
Jabbit is mainly a status Pokémon, but its special ability, Tick Off, allows it to do damage when using status moves. Its other ability, Infuriate, taunts the opposing Pokémon whenever it doesn't attack. The left is its normal colors, and the right is its shiny. It does not evolve. Drawn with FireAlpaca.
I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
Yet another self portrait. Whenever I am questioning my artistic abilities, I draw a self portrait to remind myself that I can draw but that I just need to familiarise myself with the subject matter.
Creating robots is sort of a coping mechanism for me, and Jester. We have Elizabeth, as always, and some different characters --- Paris the fox, who plays the guitar, and Altero, the rabbit, who does the drums. Finally, Carol, who plays the piano --- these new characters resemble Preistor, Altor, and Lexibo respectfully --- but I changed their animal associations because a bear and a rabbit were just too close to Freddy's band. Now all we have to worry about is the rabbit. Oh, and Carol is an owl.
I think I've finally come up with a design for the Altitone crew that is actually appealing to children. All the previous designs had always looked like nightmares: no eyes, sharp teeth, faceplates, and most of all; they were all white --- and not all cats, rabbits, and bears are white. So, I needed to make them resemble animals a little more. And I did! I'm certainly going to keep revising these designs, though. But for now, I introduce you to the V1 Liz Cat's band! This restaurant chain will probably be the one that I'd make a FNaF fangame out of. Drawn with FireAlpaca.
The plight of the maker is tears from a dropped stitch, the unrelenting mental gauntlet that is bobbin knots, the pain of fingertips burned smooth from the lava-like ooze that hold our creations together. Makers! Know this. You are not alone.
Weirdly enough, I never used to feel bothered by winter. A sign I’m “getting on a bit” as they say? I’m 32 come April, not 102 for feck’s sake! Whatever the case, roll on spring and general warmth, long overdue I have to say…
