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Patron Saint of Woodpeckers and Hangovers. And possibly headaches. I think I remember reading that woodpeckers probably all have headaches, even with their tongues and flexible skulls. I have a headache. #patronSaint

Anoia is an actual Goddess, and not a Patron Saint, but I really wanted to draw her. Anoia is the Goddess of Things That Get Stuck in Drawers, a minor goddess on the Discworld (by Terry Pratchett - and if you don't know who he is, you should read his books! You can start with Small Gods -it is a standalone in the Discworld world. Or Guards! Guards! is another good choice). When someone rattles a drawer and cries "How can it close on the damned thing but not open with it? Who bought this? Do we ever use it?", even though the person might be genuinely irritated or even exasperated, it is as praise unto Anoia. Faithful Anoians (worshippers of Anoia) purposefully rattle their drawers and complain every day. Anoia also finds objects that roll under other objects and things stuck in sofa cushions, and is considering handling stuck zippers. She eats corkscrews. Her name is clearly derived from "annoy". Anoia she was formerly the volcano goddess Lela. She mentions that she has not been in her current position long, but what constitutes a long time to a god is unclear. discworld.fandom.com/wiki/Anoia #patronSaints #terryPratchett

My girlfriend was good to me for my birthday this year! Even more cosmic washi tape :-)

A Brief Pause at the Edge of Becoming It seems I am always seeking a place to sit— not just to rest the body, but to settle the soul. Yet even in stillness, Gary Brecka’s words whisper: “The quickest way to old age is the aggressive pursuit of comfort.” So I do not stay long. I walked until I found a picnic table beneath a canopy of bare-limbed trees, branches like open hands waiting for green. The blue spruces nearby— stoic, unchanged, whispering that some things endure. I sketched. Not perfectly. Not for anyone’s praise. Just a mark to say: I was here. Alive in this in-between. Waiting. Listening. Not for leaves— but for something truer than comfort. Thank you for joining me in this small noticing. A moment borrowed from the rush. A table. A tree. A thought. A gift.

It has been a while, and even a shadow evolves. However, Yu is still as clingy as always as a ball of seemingly limitless energy. New eye designs to better fit the original Avali vibes, a little more vibrant on the feather-do, and maybe a little update in the suit too. Yu loves it.

Even with the wheel well and truly turning for the Beltane Fire Festival again, there’s still time for me to start a new sketchbook! Introducing “It Is What It Was” :-)

Years ago, I sketched Gibby at work—pencil in hand, bold strokes alive with motion. I caught them from over the shoulder: just the back of their head, the soft curve of their face, and that focused arm bringing something into being. They were 9 or 10 then, already showing the spark of creativity and concentration that pointed toward who they’d become. Now in their mid-20s, Gibby is thoughtful, insightful—quick to listen, slow to speak, and wired to process the world with care. Their path has been remarkable: two degrees in 2.5 years, no debt. That didn’t happen by accident. It took grit, German immersion schooling, 16 college credits earned in high school, and testing out of 24 more once at university. That’s Gibby—quietly determined, resourceful, and steady. But their story isn’t just academic. Gibby’s always been gifted with their hands—drawn to set design, locksmithing, welding. Trades they wanted to pursue early on, and still feel pulled toward. They’re at a bike shop now. It’s not the dream, but it fits: their hands know how to build, repair, and reshape the world. There’s been frustration—maybe even anger—that we didn’t let them follow the trade route right away. I get that now. Life veers, and sometimes the path chosen isn't the one imagined. But Gibby’s resilience—their ability to adapt and press on—is what I admire most. They’ve embraced their journey with honesty, stepping into their identity as a they/them person, unafraid to define success in their own terms. That takes courage. I’m proud of them—not for a résumé, but for who they are. This old drawing isn’t just a memory—it’s a thread connecting past to present. A reminder that the creative spark, the steady hands, the deep soul I saw back then is still shining. So here’s to you, Gibby: the kid who sketched with fire and the adult who still shapes the world with quiet brilliance. Your value has never been about the path you’re on. It’s about the person you are. And I’ll be here, cheering you on—every step of the way.

Years ago, while digging through old journals and sketches, I stumbled across a quick, scribbled drawing of two pears. Beneath it, I'd written a raw and honest note: "Ann is pissed. I think it's because she's uncertain about me, us, life itself. She just ran into my car with the van. She says it was an accident, but she seems happier now—almost like it was cathartic. . . Like sex." At the time, I scribbled this in frustration, feeling a deep disconnect between us. Intimacy had become a confusing and distant concept in our relationship. The pears I'd sketched were rough and scratchy, charged with my chaotic feelings. Looking back, I see how emotions can drive us to strange actions, some intentional, some accidental, often leaving us oddly relieved afterward. Humans are complex, fascinating beings, navigating messy emotions and messy relationships, sometimes colliding intentionally or unintentionally, seeking relief in unexpected ways. Perhaps the pears were my subconscious pun on "pair," reflecting the awkward, confusing way Ann and I were bumping through life together—making messes, but occasionally finding strange humor and genuine catharsis in the chaos. I've learned to smile gently at the rawness of our humanity, appreciating even our scratchy sketches and emotional collisions. They're reminders that life, relationships, and our own hearts are never simple, but they're authentically human. Here's to embracing life's unexpected catharsis and finding humor in our imperfections.

For the 14th of Marchusic, I drew Policarpo, who sometimes doesn't have a good day, even though he has his friends. He remembers that his acquaintances in the ranking don't treat him like family

P. G. Wodehouse (1881–1975) Once, when he was beginning a Wooster-Jeeves novel, he experimented with using a Dictaphone. After he had dictated the equivalent of a page, he played it back to check it over. What he heard sounded so terribly unfunny that he immediately turned off the machine and went back to his pad and pencil. After this, according to the biographer Robert McCrum, “he might snooze a bit in his armchair, have a bath, and do some more work, before the evening cocktail (sherry for her, a lethal martini for him) at six, which they took in the sun parlour, overlooking the garden. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.” ― P.G. Wodehouse #dailyrituals #inktober #PGWodehouse @masoncurrey

Cover for my fanfic i writing for "Batman: Zero Year" comic. After Zero: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63498001 "I bloom, a flower fair and bright, A needed thing, for two, a light. In hearts' soft garden, breezes play, I grow in strength with each new day." The Riddler nodded patiently, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. Amber devoted almost all her energy to keep reciting this stupid rhyme that she had composed and practiced until she turned pale from exhaustion. The remaining part of her energy was spent on NOT clutching her jacket. "But then, a worm, with wicked bite. Gnawed at my grain and dimmed my light. A spreading blight, a change so foul. Cursed my existence, took its toll. My two companions, caught in strife. Began to gnaw and hurt their life. Absorbing poison, bit by bit. They both grew sick, they couldn't quit." "…" “Who am I?" The Riddler lazily raised his eyes to the sky and just as slowly raised his hands. "Love!" His voice was full of theatrical reverence. He didn’t even pretended that the riddle made him ponder over it. "To be more precise — twisted love. Am I right?"

Nikola Tesla (1856–1943) After he had started his own company, Tesla arrived at the office at noon. Immediately, his secretary would draw the blinds; Tesla worked best in the dark and would raise the blinds again only in the event of a lightning storm, which he liked to watch flashing above the cityscape from his black mohair sofa. Tesla ate alone, and phoned in his instructions for the meal in advance. Upon arriving, he was shown to his regular table, where eighteen clean linen napkins would be stacked at his place. As he waited for his meal, he would polish the already gleaming silver and crystal with these squares of linen, gradually amassing a heap of discarded napkins on the table. And when his dishes arrived—served to him not by a waiter but by the maître d’hôtel himself—Tesla would mentally calculate their cubic contents before eating, a strange compulsion he had developed in his childhood and without which he could never enjoy his food. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Of all things, I liked books best.” ― Nikola Tesla “One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane.” ― Nikola Tesla #dailyrituals #inktober #NikolaTesla @masoncurrey

Here is anime style: https://www.doodleaddicts.com/uploads/69316/noa-rabiner/" Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay. To mould me man?" A foreign ability user named Cohen and his sister Noa visited the Agency. Cohen has the ability "I," which allows him to temporarily animate any objects. For example, tables, chairs, statues, etc. But he must manually "unanimate" them. The weakness of his ability is that objects left animated for too long will go insane. He came to the Agency because his brother, Levi, stole their family heirloom - a golem, the best matter with which "I" works in symbiosis. Cohen is dying of an illness. He must pass on his ability to another, but finding the golem is a priority. The main plot twist, of course, is that his "sister" is the animated golem. She does not know about this since the master ordered her to forget and believe in her familial relationship with him - the golem unquestioningly follows the orders of the master and this includes subconscious self-deception. Noa is an ancient creature, but her age matters little because when her master "turns her off," all the memories she has lived are erased from her memory. With a new "turn on," she needs time to gradually gain an independent mind and begin to feel. Unfortunately, this process is rapid enough to cause terrible problems with controlling emotions and feelings, which always lead to blind violence on her part when she can not cope with herself... In some ways, she is naive, but she highly values ​​life and human life in particular. Human beings amaze her with their complexity and their achievements. And life in general is full of exciting colors and aspects for a once inanimate object. However, there is a person who will do anything to prevent Noa from gaining freedom, and it is not even Cohen... "I" is a reference to a chapter name from Gustav Meyrink's novel "Golem." Characters are not based on any writer, but they have references to "Golem" chapters' names.

So, I drew my BSD OC character, Noa. Trying anime after learning new things. I'm not really happy with her hair. I need to think about her design more. "Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay. To mould me man?" A foreign ability user named Cohen and his sister Noa visited the Agency. Cohen has the ability "I," which allows him to temporarily animate any objects. For example, tables, chairs, statues, etc. But he must manually "unanimate" them. The weakness of his ability is that objects left animated for too long will go insane. He came to the Agency because his brother, Levi, stole their family heirloom - a golem, the best matter with which "I" works in symbiosis. Cohen is dying of an illness. He must pass on his ability to another, but finding the golem is a priority. The main plot twist, of course, is that his "sister" is the animated golem. She does not know about this since the master ordered her to forget and believe in her familial relationship with him - the golem unquestioningly follows the orders of the master and this includes subconscious self-deception. Noa is an ancient creature, but her age matters little because when her master "turns her off," all the memories she has lived are erased from her memory. With a new "turn on," she needs time to gradually gain an independent mind and begin to feel. Unfortunately, this process is rapid enough to cause terrible problems with controlling emotions and feelings, which always lead to blind violence on her part when she can not cope with herself... In some ways, she is naive, but she highly values ​​life and human life in particular. Human beings amaze her with their complexity and their achievements. And life in general is full of exciting colors and aspects for a once inanimate object. However, there is a person who will do anything to prevent Noa from gaining freedom, and it is not even Cohen... "I" is a reference to a chapter name from Gustav Meyrink's novel "Golem." Characters are not based on any writer, but they have references to "Golem" chapters' names.

Abstract painting "The Dark City". Canvas on cardboard, acrylic, 30x40 cm, 2023

George Balanchine (1904–1983) Balanchine liked to do his own laundry. “When I’m ironing, that’s when I do most of my work,” he once said. The choreographer rose early, before 6:00 A.M., made a pot of tea, and read a little or played a hand of Russian solitaire while he gathered his thoughts. Then he did his ironing for the day (he did his own washing too, in a portable machine in his Manhattan apartment) and, between 7:30 and 8:00, phoned his longtime assistant for a rundown of the day’s schedule. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “I like to do things certain ways and I disagree with everybody but I don't even want to argue.” ― George Balanchine #dailyrituals #inktober #balanchine @masoncurrey

Abstract painting "A refugee leaves his native quarter" whatman, mixed media, acrylic and marker, 54x54 cm, 2023

I forgot to post it here. I got better at drawing her. I tried a more '80s anime style recently but will keep at this style since that's how I draw. I love her even though she's not intended to be a main character

Louis Armstrong (1901–1971) Armstrong relied on music to lull himself to sleep. Before he could get into bed, however, he had to administer the last of his daily home remedies, Swiss Kriss, a potent herbal laxative invented by the nutritionist Gayelord Hauser in 1922 (and still on the market today). Armstrong believed so strongly in its curative powers that he recommended it to all his friends, and even had a card printed up with a photo of himself sitting on the toilet, above the caption “Leave It All Behind Ya.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “All music is folk music. I ain't never heard a horse sing a song.” ― Louis Armstrong #dailyrituals #inktober #LouisArmstrong @masoncurrey

An old sketch made with acrylic paint.

David Lynch (1946-2025) I like things to be orderly,” Lynch told a reporter in 1990. For seven years I ate at Bob’s Big Boy. I would go at 2:30, after the lunch rush. I ate a chocolate shake and four, five, six, seven cups of coffee—with lots of sugar. And there’s lots of sugar in that chocolate shake. It’s a thick shake. In a silver goblet. I would get a rush from all this sugar, and I would get so many ideas! I would write them on these napkins. It was like I had a desk with paper. “ - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “I don't think it was pain that made [Vincent Van Gogh] great - I think his painting brought him whatever happiness he had.” ― David Lynch Thank you for all your amazing art! #dailyrituals #inktober #DavidLynch #goals @masoncurrey

2B pencil focusing on the eye, nose and mouth. The reflection today is a suggestion that we find what we look for, and we see what we want to see. Our family dinners include a sharing time of: 1. Who blessed you today? 2. Who did you bless today? and 3. What are you thankful for? It is suggested by some that if you focus on the abundance, you will not see so much of the lack, but if you focus on the lack, you will not be able to see the abundance so well. This was illustrated by the questions: "How many red cars did you see on the way to work this morning?" My answer was: "No Idea!" It is because I was not looking. If I was being given $100.00 for each red car I spotted, I would have certainly been looking, and maybe even getting creative with the definition of 'red'. What are you looking for? What are you finding?

Joseph Cornell (1903–1972) Cornell worked nights at the kitchen table, sorting and assembling materials for his boxes. It was not easy going. Some nights he felt too fatigued from his day job to concentrate on his art and would sit up reading instead, switching on the oven for warmth. In the mornings, his quarrelsome mother would scold him about the mess he’d left at the kitchen table; without a proper workroom, Cornell was forced to store his growing collection of magazine clippings and dime-store baubles out in the garage. In 1940 Cornell finally mustered the courage to quit his job and pursue his art full-time—and even then his habits changed little. He still worked nights at the kitchen table, while his mother and brother slept upstairs. In the late morning he would head downtown for breakfast at his local Bickford’s restaurant, often satisfying his sweet tooth with a Danish or a slice of pie (and lovingly cataloging these indulgences in his diary). - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #JosephCornell @masoncurrey

There's so much history to choose from. I feel that if we can add wizards to the middle ages, they should be everywhere else too. Also, all wizards in the seventeenth century wear scarves. It's a rule.

Taking time after all things festive to scribble some more… and of course, test out even more washi tape I got gifted!

Drawn with Pen and Charcoal.

Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) Kant’s biography is unusually devoid of external events. As Heinrich Heine wrote: The history of Kant’s life is difficult to describe. For he neither had a life nor a history. In actual fact, as Manfred Kuehn argues in his 2001 biography, Kant’s life was not quite as abstract and passionless as Heine and others have supposed…. If he failed to live a more adventurous life, it was largely due to his health: the philosopher had a congenital skeletal defect that caused him to develop an abnormally small chest, which compressed his heart and lungs and contributed to a generally delicate constitution. In order to prolong his life with the condition—and in an effort to quell the mental anguish caused by his lifelong hypochondria—Kant adopted what he called “a certain uniformity in the way of living and in the matters about which I employ my mind.” This routine was as follows: Kant rose at 5:00 A.M., after being woken by his longtime servant, a retired soldier under explicit orders not to let the master oversleep. Then he drank one or two cups of weak tea and smoked his pipe. According to Kuehn, “Kant had formulated the maxim for himself that he would smoke only one pipe, but it is reported that the bowls of his pipes increased considerably in size as the years went on.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #ImmanuelKant @masoncurrey

Even during Advent, it’s still spooky season somewhere…