Bookmark and Posters for Library Events

All these babies made on site with ink pen, sharpie, and photocopier, my current favorite mash of mediums:

Spit fer Spat

Welcome to the Commuse, folks. It's gonna be an improvisational ride.

I'm expanding my comic world: this is a sketch deep pickin' the secluded hideout of the craziest teacher in existence, the stage set for the weirdest kid gatherings this side of highest education. Planning my first zine since my return feels so goodish.


Also, we had a mad crowd at the performance poetry open mic via the delawhere group-- kickin set-up, featuring new and old poems, the typical drunk host, and some unexpected rare appearances! I pedaled my two tinsel-fringed poems to great satisfaction (all mine, of course). Let's hear it for the library-themed eve.

Bereaved of Absence

So I've been writing more than usual since last week's Poetry Slam so that I've prepared two poems for performance and have six or seven others in various stages of dress, ranging from birthday suits to dowry packages. I did draw tonight, but only for an hour or so and only on one sketchbook spread which I would normally share, but it's too late for scanning and too late for staying up too late. Maybe tomorrow. For sure.


Also, I'm taking a zine to press this weekend. Possibly two. Hopefully I have them begun by then. Stay tuned.

Confedera, See?

Back from North Carolina--a destination that proved too south for my testes. In our one week together, Mak and I camped three nights, hiked three days, jaywalked two days, traveled two days, and didn't kill each other. Glad to be balk, folks. Next up: fruit-pickin' in Jersey.

Shout out to a bangin' open mic and slam session at the crimson moon last wednesday. sweet weirdness spreading across the floor, ah swear! Read two new poems and I shalt write more.

And a monster kudos shoutout to my sole brother Tim, as he presented his phd physics thesis to a 40-person capacity upenn room filled with 60-persons. I followed everything, pretty much. E Coli. Gene switchery. Glowing colonies that grow in the dark. And he said 'micromolar.' That means little teeth.