watch

If i was real youd see me cry If i was real youd watch me die If i was real youd spit in my eye If i was real youd know a lie If i was real youd know my name If i was real id bring you shame If i was real id show you pain If i was real id drive you insane But im not real Im just a name Meet me in the dark Meet me in the light Ill crawl inside your skin Eager for a bite Ill coil around your thoughts Let me stay Together we can obsess Over every shade of grey Deny my existence Dont say my name I dont love you Make no mistake Im not here for salvation Im here for the pain Embrace me my child Nightmares My name #embracingnightmares

August pictures... Highlights include spending time on a lake with beloved friends, a chukar (a partridge native to Asia) walking into Home Depot and a happy young woman in a beautiful red dress in a subway. I love watching people in subways (and everywhere else). #dailydrawing

Careful, eyes are watching.

Adding this chair I painted to every perfect spot to watch nature

The look that sinister men give, whats wrong with me.

I always imagined living in sinnoh and just watching a sunset

Inspired by watching Andor!

Patron Saint of Lost Keys and Small Things. Reminded me of this poem by Elizabeth Bishop. One Art The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster. —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Sperm whale time!

Some robots, and some punk drawings. Reference of the robot: "Neon sentiel, the watcher" (Digital Archive), Reference of the punk: "Kings road, London, 1977" (Steve Johnson)

As a lifelong Indiana resident, I never thought I would fall victim to a cryptocurrency scam especially not one that would wipe out $30,000 of my hard-earned savings. It all began when I was contacted by a woman named “Sophia” through Facebook. She claimed to be a professional crypto investment advisor based in Manhattan and came across as incredibly knowledgeable and confident. Her profile was convincing, filled with images of high-end offices, client testimonials, and even fake endorsements from celebrities, all crafted to earn my trust. At first, I had always been cautious with my money, but her pitch was persuasive. She promised a “low-risk” investment opportunity with high returns, backed by what appeared to be credible audits and consistent performance reports. I decided to test the waters by investing $200. To my surprise, I was able to withdraw the money with no issues, which made the platform seem trustworthy. Feeling more confident, I went all in. Over the next few weeks, I invested $25,000 into what I believed were Bitcoin and Ethereum transactions through her platform. The dashboard displayed constant growth. My account balance soared, and I felt thrilled watching my so-called earnings increase. It looked like the investment was paying off until things took a turn. To unlock my “profits,” I was asked to send an additional $4,800 to cover something called “gas fees.” Hesitant but eager to access my growing funds, I sent the money. Then, just like that, the platform disappeared. My account was inaccessible, Sophia stopped responding, and I was left with nothing. My savings were gone, and I felt betrayed and ashamed. Just when I thought I had lost everything, I came across HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS, a cyber forensics group specializing in retrieving stolen cryptocurrency. Skeptical but desperate, I contacted them. They used advanced tools like Chainalysis to trace the stolen crypto across blockchain and collaborated with international authorities and exchanges to freeze the assets. Amazingly, just last week, HACKATHON TECH SOLUTIONS recovered 100% of my lost funds. I was stunned and overjoyed. Thanks to their determination, what I thought was gone forever was returned to me. I learned a painful lesson, but I’m grateful for the second chance. Their contact details are listed below. Whatsapp:‪‪‪+31 6 47999256‬‬‬ Telegram: @hackathontechsolutions Email: hackathontechservice@mail.com

In this sketch, I drew myself during the time I lived in Kyiv for a couple of months. It was one of those clear, sunny days when you really want to go outside - but all my friends were busy, and I was too tired of wandering around alone. So I just sat on the carpet, staring out at the balcony, watching the blue sky, the clouds... and the occasional freshwater seagull flying by

The heroes of Baldur's Gate, one year later, watch as children role playing them.

Drew this after watching men in black and listening to ATLiens ,had a great time doing this.

I know nothing of the actress of the same name (although I do need to watch The Spirit Of The Beehive someday), but the words alone had “drawing title” written all over them, so yeah!

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.

There’s a lot of waiting in life. Waiting in lobbies. Waiting on answers. Waiting for braces to tighten, kids to grow, hearts to heal, or prayers to be answered. I sat at the orthodontist, watching dollars tighten on tiny wires, and made this sketch. A tree. A house. A street. Color helped the moment breathe. I remember once hearing a chess master say, “There is no waiting in chess.” It confused me—wasn’t there always a turn to wait for? But he explained: “There’s no waiting. Only planning. Plotting. Analyzing. You’re always thinking.” I once repeated that to a FIDE master. He got mad. Maybe because waiting and patience aren’t the same thing. We can be still and deeply active inside. We can pause without being passive. And then there’s Lindsey’s voice in the back of my head: “That sounds like a first-world problem.” “Speak life.” “Be thankful. Rejoice always.” And she’s right. So here’s to filling waiting time with something creative. Something kind. Something that turns a delay into a doorway.

I wanted to measure how far I have come. In 2023 I drew Voxs screen, well today I redrew it and got this as a result. I'm not one to feel a sense of pride, but damn I'm feeling proud. I have done a lot of self taught with my art and using Ipad and procreate. I did take a art class in college which was basic sketching. I have watched videos, listened to others and just observed to get where I am. I don't know if my art will take me anywhere. But what I do know is, its my outlet, my vent, my escape.

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

Bats are do cool, I wish big walkable caves were everywhere like pokemon so I could watch them fly around

As awesome as summer and winter are, I love the transitional seasons the best, especially fall. It's the best time to do sports, orienteering, bird watching, hikes. The crisp air feels so good, and I love the rustle of the dead leaves and grasses on a windy day. While sometimes I get sad to see the branches bare, I also love looking at and analyzing their structure. I find it fascinating that a tree can go from this mighty, fluttering thing to a spindly, knobby structure and remain fundamentally unchanged. It's a bit of a miracle

Ennis Grieving. Watercolor. Ive only been able to watch Brokeback Mountain once, but this scene is emblazoned in my memory.

So after seeing some pictures of his human pictures I wanted to make something. This is based off the YouTube video link below. This guy made Alastors radio show and its KA! You should go check it out, I like to listen to it when I'm alone at the office, or when I study or whenever really. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ns18ZVI-ObQ

para el día 31 de Fruitecember hoy le toca a jugo de uva para este día decidí dibujar a Noko con una copa de jugo de uva Durante los fuegos artificiales recibiendo el año nuevo aparte lo elegí porque 2025 será el año de la serpiente les deseo a todos mis amigos que tengan un feliz año nuevo

This is victor from Arcane, I recently watched Act 1 of season 2 and love his character development.

I still haven’t got round to watching the second Joker film yet, but if the reviews I’ve read are true then this random verse I scribbled down to accompany my drawing checks out!

Sometimes it feels like I'm the actress of my problems and the world is watching me.