Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness.

Oscar Wilde

I hadn’t read the entirety of this Oscar Wilde quote before. I feel like the last bit, which is always omitted, is kind of contextually important.

I will name him Glorp and I will hug him and pet him and squeeze him.

When a three-eyed space squid falls in love with the Challenger space shuttle, you just let them have it. NASA would probably agree. I’m sure they have lots of rules about space ships and alien love affairs.

This silly octopus drawing exists because I needed a new t-shirt. But now that I have that I want calamari. This shirt makes me hungry. And a little amorous. But mostly hungry.

Digital illustration created in Procreate on an iPad Pro.

Suit up

Unique science fiction and fantasy shirts like this one are available on my Etsy shop.

Still digging through some old doodles. Sometimes you want to draw, but you don’t know what to draw, so you just draw rocks. And fish. And call it a day.

It’s not that robot thinks he’s better than you. He doesn’t think about you at all.

Watercolour, ink, etc.

I was writing about how I had nothing to write about, so just enjoy this silly illustration of a crow in an army helmet, but then that reminded of something to write about and so now I’m writing about that.

This drawing reminded me of how important going one step further is to an illustration. This drawing is made of three things: a crow, an army helmet and a cigarette. Individually they are all boring props. Together they almost tell a story. I could have just drawn a crow. But I went one step further, and added a stupid hat and a bad habit and made it passably interesting.

It’s a bit like “yes, and…” thinking from improv comedy. There’s a crow. Yes, and… garbage day is like a war zone. Yes, and… he likes to relax with a smoke after tearing into a big bag of trash.

Anyway, enjoy this silly illustration of a crow in an army helmet.

I started a new story a few weeks ago. I’m waist deep in roughs and writing, and it’s coming along. It wants to exist, so who am I to stand in the way? Come on little story! let’s find you a nice place to live!

I’ve been afraid of this story for a while. The idea came to me in 2018 when the family moved back to Ottawa. Maybe a little before then, when I was here alone for a few months. But the little voices kept tearing it down. It’s amazing how convincing those little voices can be. They don’t even exist! How do they have so much control over my creative output? “It’s too long,” they said. “You can’t write,” they said. “Nobody will read it,” they said. Miserable little voices pissing on everything.

So the little voices are getting a sound beating behind the barn, an oily rag stuffed in their blathering yapper, stuffed into an old gym bag and dropped over a bridge. Metaphorically. Because they don’t exist. That’s a violent mix of visuals. It might be time for a nap.

If there’s a lesson here, it’s that you gotta make what you gotta make. That’s all there is.

Also this week, the kids went back to school. Cracker Jack started high school! I can’t be certain but I think I live in a time anomaly, because I’m fairly positive she was just born yesterday. I mean, she was just a wee baby on my arm, and now she’s a mostly grown person doing mostly grown person things and it’s all just too wild for me to think about.

Lastly, I’m currently diving into Cable Ties. I didn’t know they existed until a few days ago. What else don’t I know about?! They’re brilliant!

This year for my birthday I decided to not be a depressing sack of gravel and actually enjoy life. I took my favourite people to the National Gallery of Canada for a much needed art infusion, and it was exactly what I needed. It’s a beautiful space, with lots of beautiful art. There’s too much to see in one visit, but we were strategic about it, and left very happy.

Equally as impressive – we were able to navigate to and from downtown Ottawa without getting lost, angry, or convinced we would spend the rest of our miserable lives stuck in the car because how do you even get out of downtown Ottawa without a military escort or a sherpa? I know you’re thinking “data plan, and gps” and you’d be technically correct, but I haven’t got either of those things, and I like to think life is much more interesting because of it.

Anyway, besides the thankfully bland commute, excellent art, and my favourite people, I also grilled sausages, served them with very old cheese, and that was the end of an all around great day.

Except the part in the morning when Omega accidentally let Hazel the cat escape the house, then proceeded to live her worst nightmare while the rest of us tried to find the dumb cat. I walked up a couple streets, and by the time I returned, in typical cat fashion, Hazel was sitting nonchalantly in the back yard like nothing had happened. Nobody knows where she went, nobody saw her return. She was just there.

My best guess is she took the opportunity to check in with her alien supervisors, upload all the data she has accumulated over the past several years, maybe she ran a few interstellar errands, and then returned to her post. You know, usual cat stuff.