Warding off a migraine I’m not ready to admit has anything to do with White Russians last night.

Sometimes I like need to draw on paper, with pen, and sometimes I just need to give up directing and draw whatever comes, even and especially when it doesn’t make logical sense.

I think that’s one remnant from my childhood when I still drew: it always had to make sense, it always had to be clear cut, and…


it really doesn’t.

There’s something about entering the subconscious and drawing whatever that is and not analyzing it to make sense. There’s something strong about that, somehow.