So I decided I need to make a resin head for this thing, and I’m gonna start by making a sporran, because the stole involves too much material and I want a dry run first with the head design.
And then I was like “I need to sit down and sculpt a head!”
And my brain went “Nope. Don’t think so.”
“But you have to,” I said. “I can’t do this without you, brain.”
“Nope,” said brain. “Not today. Not feeling it.”
“Screw you!” I cried. “I am a REAL ARTIST! That means I power through this crap and don’t get hung up on muses and inspiration and “not feeling it!”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” said the brain, picking up a copy of Craniums Quarterly.
“But I’m a professional! I came to work! I will sit in front of this thing until I make good art!”
“Go ahead, if you don’t mind making total crap and then curling into fetal position,” said brain, thumbing through its magazine. “I’d get the potato chips now, though. You’ll need them later when the weeping passes.”
“You’re my brain!” I shouted, mad with power. “You have to do as I say!”
The brain gave me a long, level look over the top of the magazine. The articles had headlines like Making the Most of Your Ganglia and 37 Secrets the Cortex Loves (But Will Never Tell You!)
“You sure that’s how you want to play it?” it said. “You do know I control the motor functions.”
“Stop hitting yourself…” said brain, turning the page.
And that is why I am not getting art done today.