Darryl Joel Berger this is how i got defeated

Jun 18

books about love; inks on paper, 5.5 x 8.5 inches, in the shop. * * * * * Zazen by Vanessa Veselka Have you ever had one of those clever friends, those very clever friends who are intimate and aloof and charming and maddening at the same time? Your clever clever friend might even be a genius. Your clever clever friend might also have a mood disorder. Or at the very least live on some kind of emotional moonscape. A psychic blast area. Perhaps there’s even a genuine mental illness, pooling beneath the surface. Also, your clever clever friend might not even be your friend. Because lies are the only truth that matters. I read this book in the smallest, sharpest bits. The writing is smart and dense enough to make you feel the need to take many breaks for air. In fact, I kept putting it down not expecting to pick it up again. But then I did. Because I wanted to find out what happens to Della, the narrator. And I could not guess. In many ways, Della is like the clever clever friend. But she also the victim of the clever clever friend, namely Tamara. And so the worm turns under the doom-y skies of semi-anarchy, principled but futile resistance, self-immolation, bombs, bomb threats, wars, impending bigger wars, a police state, consumerism, geophysics, hippies, veganism, and sex parties. There is a bit of a down-the-rabbit-hole feel to Della’s wanderings, so unsure she is of her own footing in the world. And a kind of dog-eared sadness, too. This is a wonderful book, which is why it pained me so much to find a littering of proofing errors around the three-quarters mark. A fault of the publisher, not the author, to be sure, but it did diminish from what otherwise is a wonderful kind of desolation.

books about love; inks on paper, 5.5 x 8.5 inches, in the shop.
* * * * *

Zazen

by Vanessa Veselka

Have you ever had one of those clever friends, those very clever friends who are intimate and aloof and charming and maddening at the same time? Your clever clever friend might even be a genius. Your clever clever friend might also have a mood disorder. Or at the very least live on some kind of emotional moonscape. A psychic blast area. Perhaps there’s even a genuine mental illness, pooling beneath the surface. Also, your clever clever friend might not even be your friend. Because lies are the only truth that matters.

I read this book in the smallest, sharpest bits. The writing is smart and dense enough to make you feel the need to take many breaks for air. In fact, I kept putting it down not expecting to pick it up again. But then I did. Because I wanted to find out what happens to Della, the narrator. And I could not guess.

In many ways, Della is like the clever clever friend. But she also the victim of the clever clever friend, namely Tamara. And so the worm turns under the doom-y skies of semi-anarchy, principled but futile resistance, self-immolation, bombs, bomb threats, wars, impending bigger wars, a police state, consumerism, geophysics, hippies, veganism, and sex parties. There is a bit of a down-the-rabbit-hole feel to Della’s wanderings, so unsure she is of her own footing in the world. And a kind of dog-eared sadness, too.

This is a wonderful book, which is why it pained me so much to find a littering of proofing errors around the three-quarters mark. A fault of the publisher, not the author, to be sure, but it did diminish from what otherwise is a wonderful kind of desolation.

[video]

Jun 12

Last night, just a few days after drawing her (above), I had the strangest dream about Linda Darnell. And Bono(!). Linda and I were on holiday(?) – some kind of combined boat/helicopter excursion, a day-trip kind of business operated by Bono(!!). He sat at the back of the boat, louche and slouching, his arms spread like he was relaxing on a couch, looking out at the ocean from behind his outrageously expensive iridescent sunglasses. “Is that going to be a problem?” I asked, pointing to some rope that snaked out from the front of the boat and then back, dangerously close to the outboard motor. “I use the new Photoshop to insert myself into all sorts of world-historical photographs,” Bono said, rather loudly, to make himself heard over the noise. “It’s really great!” The engine choked and then quit and we began to drift through a dark green sea littered with floating televisions. “Is it my imagination, or am I too heavy for this boat?” I asked, looking down at the foot of water around my feet. “It’s impossible for me to drown,” Bono said, now too loud. “I just use Photoshop.” We arrived at a very small island that seemed completey taken up by a white stucco house with a helicopter perched on its roof. Inside the house were all sorts of Spanish girls running around with no pants on, giggling like maniacs. “Put some damn pants on!” I yelled. “Bono doesn’t want to see your little chicken bums.” Bono put his hand on my shoulder. “Oh, I don’t mind,” he said. And then everyone was looking at Linda Darnell, standing at the top of the stairs, completely engulfed in flames, and smiling.

Last night, just a few days after drawing her (above), I had the strangest dream about Linda Darnell. And Bono(!). Linda and I were on holiday(?) – some kind of combined boat/helicopter excursion, a day-trip kind of business operated by Bono(!!). He sat at the back of the boat, louche and slouching, his arms spread like he was relaxing on a couch, looking out at the ocean from behind his outrageously expensive iridescent sunglasses. “Is that going to be a problem?” I asked, pointing to some rope that snaked out from the front of the boat and then back, dangerously close to the outboard motor. “I use the new Photoshop to insert myself into all sorts of world-historical photographs,” Bono said, rather loudly, to make himself heard over the noise. “It’s really great!” The engine choked and then quit and we began to drift through a dark green sea littered with floating televisions. “Is it my imagination, or am I too heavy for this boat?” I asked, looking down at the foot of water around my feet. “It’s impossible for me to drown,” Bono said, now too loud. “I just use Photoshop.” We arrived at a very small island that seemed completey taken up by a white stucco house with a helicopter perched on its roof. Inside the house were all sorts of Spanish girls running around with no pants on, giggling like maniacs. “Put some damn pants on!” I yelled. “Bono doesn’t want to see your little chicken bums.” Bono put his hand on my shoulder. “Oh, I don’t mind,” he said. And then everyone was looking at Linda Darnell, standing at the top of the stairs, completely engulfed in flames, and smiling.

Jun 11

Iain Banks has died.

Iain Banks has died.

Jun 10

to risk everything inks on paper shop

to risk everything

inks on paper

shop

Jun 07

a lost thoughtful ~ I painted over this, probably because of the unintentional hearts at left and centre-right. She also seemed a bit stern, I guess. And sometimes I just look at things and think – Well, this will never sell.  But at least I scanned it first.

a lost thoughtful

~ I painted over this, probably because of the unintentional hearts at left and centre-right. She also seemed a bit stern, I guess. And sometimes I just look at things and think – Well, this will never sell. 

But at least I scanned it first.

Jun 06

some day (i’ll take charge), but not today inks on paper *   *   *   *   *   *   * Of course sometimes you need to practice your escape first. Which is why they have sabbaticals.  Someday they will have their way and everyone will be self-employed, and sweating desperate before the market. Score one for the right. But then see what happens to their idea of society, how easily it splinters.  Just in the United States, there’s already 11 million households within gated communities. The rest of their time on highways. And everything else left to mercenaries.

some day (i’ll take charge), but not today

inks on paper

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Of course sometimes you need to practice your escape first. Which is why they have sabbaticals. 

Someday they will have their way and everyone will be self-employed, and sweating desperate before the market. Score one for the right. But then see what happens to their idea of society, how easily it splinters. 

Just in the United States, there’s already 11 million households within gated communities. The rest of their time on highways. And everything else left to mercenaries.

Jun 03

i almost got away with it shop

i almost got away with it

shop

thoughts

thoughts

May 29

alphabestiary (garden) ink on letraset for ariel

alphabestiary (garden)

ink on letraset

for ariel

May 27

tired of logic exhausted by magic pencil and ink on paper

tired of logic

exhausted by magic

pencil and ink on paper

maximum meaning ink and watercolour on paper

maximum meaning

ink and watercolour on paper

it could not be unseen post 1001

it could not be unseen

post 1001

May 23

failure ink, watercolour on paper

failure

ink, watercolour on paper

May 22

cheerless / choice an original drawing on paper ink, watercolour, pencil crayon 4 x 7 inches in the shop

cheerless / choice

an original drawing on paper

ink, watercolour, pencil crayon

4 x 7 inches

in the shop