Jon Snow’s faithful companion. In the beginning of the first few seasons, Ghost seem to come and go and Jon would wonder where he went! Like a ghost! Sometimes appearing outta nowhere! But Ghost stick with his master always and helped Jon’s friends like Sam and Tormund. *I have already completed the entire Inktober- you can check it out on my IG account: @dittofunkysketch123 :D
Currently reading ‘Nina Simone’s Gum’ by Warren Ellis at long last. What a phenomenal bit of work this is, and inspiring to boot most importantly as you can see. Thanks for sharing your stories with us all Warren!
There is really nothing more I can say about this than it is truly just a doodle on a notepad while I was on the phone. The more I do this though, the more ideas I get for larger work.
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
The boy calls his brother to view the Ship. It's cool cozy weather. He feels happy and excited to watch it sail. This one is my favorite painting. It's clean & minimal. Reminds me of a cool, cozy, clear sky and before a rain
I have always liked drawing with wild pastel colors and finish with a black pastel on top. Then use a needle to put put the image. Off course it is even more easy on a devise, when you don't get all the mess.
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.
“By all means grow old, but don’t mature. Remain childlike, retain wonder, the ability to be flabbergasted by something.” - Billy Connolly.
Happy new year Doodle addicts!
I’m coming out of another one of those periods where I’ve drew or doodled very little (all the other projects on the go until now!), but as always I got my mojo back in the nick of time, it seems. :)
Same old stuff here for now!
I know there’s probably a few decent folks worth voting for come the general election here in Scotland I’ll settle on, though for the most part the loudest mouthpieces seem to just scream ‘bell-end’ to me...
I was playing around with Google Translate and various sentences I’d jotted down, and opted to go with the closest approximation from English into German for ‘I’m voting for Muppets’, which is 'Ich stimme fur Muppets'. ‘Ich stimme’ read to me as ‘itch stim’ for whatever reason (anglophone and neurodivergent here), which seems rather fitting as the thought of the worst candidates getting in is liable to have us all come out in stress rashes, am I right?
Herman Melville (1819–1891)
"I rise at eight—thereabouts—& go to my barn—say good-morning to the horse, & give him his breakfast. (It goes to my heart to give him a cold one, but it can’t be helped.) Then, pay a visit to my cow—cut up a pumpkin or two for her, & stand by to see her eat it—for it’s a pleasant sight to see a cow move her jaws—she does it so mildly & with such a sanctity."
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“I would prefer not to.”
― Herman Melville, Bartleby the Scrivener
“A smile is the chosen vehicle of all ambiguities.”
― Herman Melville, Pierre; or, The Ambiguities
#dailyrituals #inktober #HermanMelville @masoncurrey
