Professor Abb Sunkin. Chief experimentalist, faithful servant to the president. Known as the final-lab executioner for my cell-mates, or « that asshole » – as I overheard – for the experimentalists under his command.
I tweeted "Reply with a photo to this for me to draw on for @doodlers" the other day. I received a great photo from my dear friend Ashley. She was a friend in college. Her son's name is Pace. So cute.
Inspired by a turn of phrase my girlfriend used to describe certain ex-friends of ours who got lost to conspiracy theories and generally problematic attitudes. Needless to say they’re haunted by all kinds of ghosts, wherever these people are!
One of my biggest supporters and best friend passed away recently. My Grammy. My Grandpa has been gone almost 10 years now. So, in real life, whenever a blue butterfly showed up it was Grandpa coming to check on Grammy. Now, she's a butterfly going to be with him.
The inevitable Labubu fan art has arrived!
I mean, I see so many of them here in Edinburgh and my folks (knowing full well my plushie habit) just so happened to pick one up for me as a gift en route back from their Cyprus trip. Can’t complain obviously, he’s a very good boy! :-)
Relaxed tension. Two parents at a national chess competition. Their kids squared off at the board, and so did they — one leaning back, shoe propped up, trying for calm; the other sitting stiff, watchful. The game played out in more ways than one.
The meal was my attempt to bring a little comfort into the rugged outdoors. The sketch was my reminder—to hold onto the moment, even when mosquitoes, ashes, and deflating air mattresses had other plans.
The lake was busy with light, the grasses busy with wind, but the boat sat quiet against the shore. There is a gift in this tension: to be held still while everything moves, to be carried without effort, to find rest in the very heart of motion.
Jury Duty, June 2013
Fifty of us sat in that room, each one staring at a phone or scribbling in a notebook, killing time. The lawyers asked their questions, picking us off one by one like a slow game of dodgeball. I wasn’t chosen, so I drew instead—earbuds, slouched shoulders, the hum of waiting caught in a few quick lines.
