I’d like a Cobb salad please, I say, and then add: but no bacon, I’m Muslim.
None of it is technically speaking untrue. I was raised a Muslim and, while I follow none of the tenets, I never bothered to revolt. And I would like a Cobb salad without bacon, because I don’t think salad and bacon go well together. I’m not quite sure why I said the Muslim part. I guess I just don’t want to make a needlessly picky impression. Who am I to question the judgement of the late great Mr. Cobb, whoever he was? I also don’t know why I felt the need to stay within the realm of the technically true. I have nothing against lies, ethically. Just like to keep my stories straight I suppose.
It’s a silly habit, to be honest. Being honest. When Amy called to say that she was having a picnic with Lou and the Dutch twins and asked if I wanted to join and I told her I couldn’t, told her that I was having lunch downtown but that I hoped they would have a great time though – in a friendly but hurried voice meant to imply I was meeting someone, a date perhaps, or an old acquaintance – when I told her that and hung up I could have just stayed at home. Would’ve saved me some time, some money. Instead of the Cobb salad (sans bacon) the waiter is bringing me now, I could’ve bought like half of a paperback novel. Or vaccines for several Ethiopian children. But I didn’t spend the money on those things. I went out to have a Cobb salad for lunch, by myself, in this downtown cafe, on, I suppose, the off chance that Amy and Lou and the Dutch twins forcefully break into my flat to verify the truth of my claims.
Discussing the ‘coolness’ or ‘badassitude’ of fictional characters is a pointless and childish pursuit as such traits have no relation to actual artistic merit. But if they did, Yara Greyjoy would by far be the best character on Game of Thrones.
I have seriously made up an entire movie in my mind which is basically just Gemma Whelan in a leather jacket shooting bad guys with a sawn-off shotgun for two hours.
Gemma, if you, like, google yourself and stumble upon this post I sincerely apologize for being creepy.
There’s a pity party in my pants and you’re invited!
Posted in The Drawn
‘Alright.’ Tara whispered to herself. ‘Let’s do this.’ She yanked her cellphone loose from the charger and slumped down on her bed. There was no need to scroll through her contact list; the name remained in the middle of the screen where it had been when she closed the app last time.
‘Buying speakers (nikita)’.
Tara clicked it, and as the menu popped up she again selected ‘Send Message’. She stared at the blank conversation and let slip a pained sigh. The clock said 23:49. Plausible enough.
Another piece of cover art, this time for a band called Archony. Check them out on their Soundcloud!
Did You Know? Every night an average of 3.2 butterflies burrow into your ears to lay eggs in your bloodstream.
Tolstoy once said that art has as its purpose the transmission to others of the highest and best feelings to which men have risen. Here’s a drawing of some guy licking a baby.
Featuring this blog’s debut appearance of arguably non-male nipples. Somebody save the children!
Posted in The Drawn
Cover art for the debut album of the band Unfair Fate. Check them out, they’re good!