jump into the world headfirst
crack open your skull on the ocean
sink like a forgotten shipwreck in the belly of a herman whale
come up for air
stumble across the words of the story-- tell it again
lie to a loved one, a stranger, both of them
get away with it in a stolen limousine
write lists that you will never complete
hang them like goodbyes from anywhere they will stick
fall in love like a wrecking ball, destroy a whole city (pretend to)
have your ernest heart ridden with bulletholes, alone on a timber hillside
find god, realize he is just as lost as the rest of us
give him a kurt laugh and look elsewhere
grow an ego with hooves & h
You came to me like a sinner
on the eve of August, I took you west where
at least you'd feel at home amongst
the billy goats & tumbleweed. You nestled
hot Kombucha tea from the mug my cousin
John made behind mosquito nets draped
like effervescent chins. Needless to
say, you danced well to the melody of
bluegrass guitar, and always looked good
with those dying plaid
pajama pants. That you were more than
a youth defying ornament or source of infinite
existential wisdom is to say you
more or less fought bristlecone steadfast
against steamy showers, despite
the fact they were my decision
--but I forgive you for that. O' opalescent
nest of sil
“You shouldn’t be here!” said Ezriel. “You’re not an angel.”
“I am!” said Luth. “Daddy’s a fallen angel but he’s still an angel. So that makes me one too!”
Brother Cuthbert raised his eyes heavenwards. “Oh Lord,” he muttered. “When I received my calling, there was nothing about having to babysit supernatural beings.”
He brought his gaze back to Ezriel. “I must admit it was surprising to see Lucifer’s little girl here today but Luth is quite right—she can join the troupe if she wants to. So I expect you to behave. Is that clear?
Gerald had been a bit anxious about going abroad on holiday to a country so far away. But he’d always wanted to see the place and he was determined to make the most of it. He’d practised the language for months until his legs ached and now, if perhaps not exactly fluent, he did have quite a vocabulary.
He’d been so nervous coming out of the hotel for the first time and seeing a couple coming towards him. But he’d done a little pirouette and they’d pirouetted back, and it was all fine. They’d maybe been smiling a little at his accent but they had understood what he meant and Gerald was thrilled.
Filled wit
The Myth of Talent
If there's one comment that is made more often than any other on any decent piece of artwork it's "you're so talented."
It's also the one [positively intended] comment I've seen the most artists bristle at, sometimes even retort. For some of us, it's a pet hate. Why?
We know it's meant as a compliment, so we smile and say thank you and try to resist the urge to insist that 'talent' is the biggest myth there is. Not only is it a myth, at its worst the use of the word is potentially destructive to the artistic community.
What's so wrong with the word 'talent'?
You might not realise it, but calling someone talented can ofte
Artistic self-esteem.This is a message to anyone who´re feeling bad about their "artistic self-esteem" or lost the motivation to keep going with art. But of course, anyone can read and interpret this! Feel free to leave a comment if you want to add something. You´re also free to share this!
Be "happy" with your art? Well... Not saying that you should stay satisfied with all your art so you´ll never improve. It´s more about being confident with the one you are as an artist. The artist inside of you. ~
Feel good about your art just the same way as you should feel confident with being yourself as a person. Draw what you wan