Yesterday was a good day.
It was a good day for a coupla reasons. One is pure ego-gratification–a reader of “Digger” who is, like myself, a fan of Jeff Smith’s “Bone” posted a link over on the Bone messageboards, and Jeff Smith himself weighed in as having looked at it and liked it. Which, while small in the grand scheme of things, makes me feel warm and fuzzy and inclined to gibber.
Secondly, I cracked my artist’s block. I think I was placing way too much importance on doing something with real media, so I went over to digital and began work on a really weird little piece deriving from my recent admiration for James Christensen and my childhood dislike for Humpty Dumpty. (Go ahead, laugh. He was creepy, damnit. And stupid. What kind of idiot egg goes sitting on walls all the time? If I were an egg, I’d wear a bubble-wrap suit and live on the ground floor.)
Every time I look at this, I think that she should be yelling “Die, wicked egg!” which I think everyone should have occasion to yell at least once in their lives.