Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Final Product:
This is the birthday present for my father. It was originally two layers, so certain details are missing, but specific complications arised which prevented me from using the first layer. There's a bit of underspray, and the "madly" is a bit heavy on the paint,but..well, whatever.
Oh, and his lip is not bleeding, and it isn't drool. It's a part of his beard, and because the first layer wasn't used, it's not as clear as it should be. Ssh.
This is the birthday present for my father. It was originally two layers, so certain details are missing, but specific complications arised which prevented me from using the first layer. There's a bit of underspray, and the "madly" is a bit heavy on the paint,but..well, whatever.
Oh, and his lip is not bleeding, and it isn't drool. It's a part of his beard, and because the first layer wasn't used, it's not as clear as it should be. Ssh.
Monday, June 28, 2004
Today my father and I scrapped like a couple of schoolboys. No fists of course, only collar-grabbing and pushing. My mother came to the rescue, and yelled "Get away from each other right now!" My father has a temper, and supposedly no one gets my humour. But once one of us gets near each other, throw down the gloves and let's dance (tango anyone?). Afterwards, I yell at him, he curses, I go to my bedroom, and he heads off to the garage. My mother will then approach the both of us and a forced apology is made. We laugh, and the cycle continues. It's a loving relationship, really!
Saturday, June 19, 2004
A wonderful voice has been discovered.
"It seems almost uncomfortably exotic while being eerily familiar."
"It seems almost uncomfortably exotic while being eerily familiar."
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Solution to life's problems: Pull the trigger.
Perhaps I don't mean this on a literal stand point. Let's pretend this 'gun' of ours is imaginary. Life's little creation from our distorted minds. Now hold it in your left or right hand, which ever you prefer. Raise which ever hand that you have chosen to be the executioner and place it against your temple. Yes, that thing pulsing rapidly beneath your skin, feeling as if it is about to rupture. Wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your free hand. Now inhale. And I mean really inhale. Suck back the life in front of you, and allow it to disperse into tiny particles inside your lungs. Close your eyes, and count to three.
1...2...2...2...2...3!
And you can only hope that this tiny, beautiful, life-saving bullet will explode into your mind and terminate the imbalance that has been weighing you down for centuries.
Perhaps I don't mean this on a literal stand point. Let's pretend this 'gun' of ours is imaginary. Life's little creation from our distorted minds. Now hold it in your left or right hand, which ever you prefer. Raise which ever hand that you have chosen to be the executioner and place it against your temple. Yes, that thing pulsing rapidly beneath your skin, feeling as if it is about to rupture. Wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your free hand. Now inhale. And I mean really inhale. Suck back the life in front of you, and allow it to disperse into tiny particles inside your lungs. Close your eyes, and count to three.
1...2...2...2...2...3!
And you can only hope that this tiny, beautiful, life-saving bullet will explode into your mind and terminate the imbalance that has been weighing you down for centuries.
