Cowboy kick.

Sometimes I feel like an alien who doesn't really belong, even now at 24 years old with supposed "wisdom" and maybe even a little bit of "real world experience."

However sometimes, sometimes I am proud of just how ridiculous I have become, preparing to go to work on a scooter in cowboy boots and bright blue tights.



Sometimes theres not a bit of shame, and in those moments, I miss Mary and the saturated grandeur of Hunter Street and our third floor studio.



Ink in our mouths, grinning.

Call em creepy, I think they're endearing.

She's like the wind

I am working from home today, and I'm supposed to be designing an invitation for the Craft and Design show, but I hit a little road block, got distracted, and ended up drawing this:

My drawing tablet finally works!

Hookulele.

Chippy chippy.

What I look like with too many corn chips in my mouth:

What I look like when I look at pictures of myself with too many corn chips in my mouth:

I smell an adventure on the horizon, don't you?

kind old things.

As fragile and inconstant humans, as soon as we find fault in things that we loved, we classify them as "not as good as they used to be." Bands, restaurants, people...They all avalanche down around us as we grow, and nothing stays as good as it used to be.

I defy, I defy.

Maybe it's us that grow to be less? Let's not, okay?

So don't you worry about the atmosphere.

Wanna hear about my weekend?

The State Fair was out of control. SO many fried things. This entire ride was encased in fried dough.

This is embarrassed me waiting on line for a fried Oreo.

Pretty.

Silly.

...Things...?

Andrew Bird was fantastic, alive and dizzying.

Oh life.