Think of the story of how he won me my eight ball. Which just lies in my drawer. With a lot of junk. They gave me that certain amount of space to let me have my mess. I feel like being productive and organised and finicky about where you keep what and not letting you touch anything I own. I went all out and made me happy and found my graphite pencil again and drew the same. It was a relief to be drawing again but it has to irritate you that after so much time and after missing the paper so much I still am drawing the same things. I'm not submitting anywhere. EVER.
This man taught me how to draw. When he said he would I laughed and told him I already knew how to and had been drawing since I could talk. But he taught me these different things. And after that I have got stuck in this tiny corner where I unconsciously keep trying to apply what he taught me and to move the slightest bit from there. I have had some kind of crazy mind control game played which I don't understand which won't let me draw. It's like I won't be able to draw anything different till I get what I've been trying for so long exactly right. Ugh. I hate this kind of straitjacketing. Not being able to draw makes me more irritable and upset than any kind of denial. There are these certain themes that I've been wanting to work on for quite a while. And they've been stewing for so long that I have a pretty clear idea of what they're going to be like. I'll probably forget them or go crazy and have all my teeth extractedso that I don't bite before I get around to them. And my eight ball is considerably heavy. I could use it for murder. Won with such skill. Would be a fitting end.