Hey, I deactivated my Facebook account.  It’s just temporary, I just needed a break.  But I didn’t want anyone to think I “un-friended” them.


My Great Uncle’s Art

Last year I discovered that my late great uncle, who I never met, was an amazing artist and illustrator. His last name is the same as mine and his first name starts with an “F” and ends with a “rank.” In the interest of keeping relatives away from my pornography (not that I try all that hard to hide my identity, but whatever) I’m not posting any links to sites that reference his work, but feel free to Google, there’s a great Flickr stream dedicated to his stuff (which is where I culled these images).

Some of these files are quite large, so if you have a slow connection you may not want to click.  I also posted a couple of my favorite details from the cutaways, but WordPress keeps fucking up the order of my photos so it’s not immediately clear to which illustration they relate, but I’m sure you can figure it out:


Saturday Morning

Repost from old blog, 2/4/2008I used to lay in bed on Saturday mornings. I could feel the summer sun shining through my window. I listened to the sound of children playing, dogs barking, cars rolling down the road. Life happening. There was too much. I was paralyzed. I wanted to experience all of it, but I didn’t know where to start. So all I did was lie in bed and listen.

I used to gaze out my bedroom window at the horizon. I could see pretty far, to a ridge of trees high above my little rural town. I’d focus on the highest tree, and wonder where it was. How did you get there? What would I see if I got there?

I used to stand in the dining room of the restaurant where I bussed tables. I would watch the hordes of Sunday post-church customers – old ladies and old men – and I would think, these people have all had sex, and I haven’t.

I used to hold this image in my mind: a group of kids, my age, driving in a car at night, rock music streaming out the window. Orange paths of lit cigarettes as they pass by. One girl has her hand out the window, sailing on the night air.

For most of my life, I was convinced that everybody else was living more fully than me.


Mighty Flame

Repost from old blog, 6/17/2007

I don’t think I’ve ever offended my boyfriend in quite the same way as when I confessed to him my attraction to this cartoon propane tank (above).  He’s just my type – a short, stacked little tank of a dude.  You can see him flaunting his decidedly sexy arms and legs at your local Sunoco gas station.   (more…)

1 Comment