Epiphany

I just realized after writing that last, drooling blog, that when I draw I don't feel so alone anymore. There is something about the act of creation that fulfills a person (not that this is all one needs, I do not agree, but it does fill some void for me, a need). When I see an idea I have being fleshed out by my own hands it gives me joy and something kinda creepy, like company. I could say, "Hey, how's it hanging there mr. pastel on paper?", he'd reply, "Well, not bad. I could use a little more fixative on my bottom right though, you kinda skimped. And I'm blowing away a little cuz you put me so close to the A/C, but I still love you. But...wh...why won't you sign me? Am I not good enough?", and I'd reply, "No".

I guess it's like giving birth. I wouldn't know though, so nevermind. There is something to taking the ideas in one's head and forming them, giving them flesh. I not sure how far you can go with that metaphor. You could chose to give them a mouth to speak for themselves, or not. A thick skin to resist easy interpretation or penetration (sex with are is very creepy, creepier than talking to it and it/he/she replying) or thin skin that makes the work easily accesable. Or some kind of jello-ee skin that looks a little opaque at first, especially if it's fresh from the frig, but when you shake it up and down you begin to see it really isn't all that stable. I need to get some jello for the apartment.

I need lunch.