Last week, I dreamt that I was trying to save a beautiful and bizarre collection of paintings, made by a close friend. This friend was not interested in saving these relics from her past.
In the dream, I desperately wanted to recreate the paintings before she threw them away.
When I woke up, I was still inspired to bring one of these paintings to life. I gave it a try, and I was reminded of this inarticulate thing that happens between the brain and the hand. I wish I could communicate the true awesomeness of the original.
After pondering pests, I discussed my bugs list with a few friends, all who vehemently contested the low ranking of furry spiders. To each their own, I say. Spiders just don’t bother me.
With that said, I would not be thrilled to encounter a thousand tarantula babies crawling out of tarantula eggs. Nor would I be thrilled to discover a dozen fingernail-sized mice crawling out of a bloated mother mouse. The former is not something I’ve witnessed, though a wolf spider once crawled across my chest while I was making out with my high school beau. The latter I have witnessed firsthand. It is horrible and terrifying and I’d rather not think about it.
The scanner is (sort of) working again. I kicked it and it coughed a bit and the green light turned back on.
I drew this little dragon a few months ago, when I was first introduced to the term “vore.” The initial idea was to draw something nestled comfortably in the belly of something bigger. I guess I got bored before seeing that one through.