Sabbath, Dark-Roasted Sabbath

So the party was a great time. Had the Faculty and Grads over for an after-hours. The basement dance room worked wonders on the end-of-the-quarter stress-bundles. The Ampeg shook the whole house with ,among other things, SELF, Eagles of Death Metal, Beastie Boys, Jane's Addiction, Skinny Puppy, Devo, the OUTKAST and even some David Lee Roth en Espanol. By four in the morning the last of the guests left, I had a shower, and the bed-trip to unconsciousness was underway.

What's in the fore-front of my mind these days:
After this week I'm officially jobless.
The room in my basement that's sole occupant is my lonely bass-rig.
How one goes about finding illustration work.
Baking puppets in this ungodly, humid heat.
Breaking in the newly built drawing studio.
Reading my way away from insanity.

. . . and just to keep it visually stimulating, here's an old painting I found that the three people who read this may remember.


Bedroom mirrors do tell
who's the fairest of them all
Lime light silhouette transparent attic walls
Dancing shadows cascade paper walls
Wailing ghost guitars send in the clowns