Pen and ink drawings

my poor and passionate heart...

my poor and passionate heart
un-encouraged
un-tiring
manufactures locks and traps and chains
to catch you and to keep you by my side
but secret from my willful heart
my hands
do fashion with such care and tenderness
shining golden keys for your escape

Princess (1)

She wandered for days, many days of night in the dark forest. And as time went on she sensed more and more strongly that she was being followed... stalked. The night grew blacker, and the slight hint of grey that had indicated the possibility of day gradually disappeared. She was blinded. Pursued by an unknown creature. She began to run. She ran for years, or seconds, or hours. She felt breath at her neck and claws at her heels, and yet the monster hardly seemed to be moving. It kept pace with her effortlessly, as if it was floating alongside her, or worse still, the harder she ran the closer it was drawn to her, and she to it. It smelled the blood in her veins, as if she was mutilated and bleeding rivers as she ran. And perhaps she was. Running blindly through a hostile forest with groping branches, razor thorns and stones like broken glass. It tasted her fear as if it had already sunk its teeth into her throat, dragging her to the ground and holding her fast until she bled to death or suffocated, She gasped and stumbled. No, it did not have her by the throat. It was much too large for that. It had swallowed her whole. She fell. No, these were try leaves and twigs, not the digestive slime of a monster's mouth. But it was upon her and would tear her limb from limb in mere seconds if she did not do SOMETHING. NOW!
She turned towards it.

She was standing. There were no trees, no thorns, no stones. There was only a vast nothingness: neither empty nor full, neither light nor dark, not colorless, but without color. Her vast horror stood before her, so dark as to make the former blackness of the forest seem bright as day. So dark, but luminous in its malice. It was hungry, but did not devour her. For the moment there was stillness.

"What do you want?" she said. Her voice was strangely clear and steady, or perhaps it only seemed that way as it was the only sound that had ever existed in that nothingness. It glowed and resonated with newness and singularity. She saw malevolent eyes, smelled hot rotting breath, heard cracking bones, tasted bile and shame, and felt chasms of emptiness torn through the center of her being like filthy, disease-ridden claws penetrating her flesh and sending her into spasms of impossible pain and madness.

And then it stopped. It had never happened. And a voice said...

"I want to devour you, your warmth, your happiness. I want the end of existence and the end of myself. I want your love and your defeat. You deny me, you are the root of my suffering as I am the root of yours. We belong to each other. Our two worlds cannot be separated, so our one shared existence must be destroyed. Your nightmares feed me. Your tears quench me. You have nursed me on your loathing and now your loathing is my life's blood. I can no longer bear to live and so you must die."

How small she was compared to it. As an atom to a star.

And she saw that what the monster spoke was true. It was her own fear, sorrow, anger, hatred, and loss. The great evil that engulfed her was born of her womb, one facet of her soul. Her only life belonged to it, it's only destruction was hers. She pitied the poor beast.

When she returned she found that she was alone. Still queen, but queen of what? of whom?

Out with the old...

Out with the old and in with the new
This old life is wearing a hole in my shoe
And the so(u)l(e) of the hole, well, it's not about you
So I'm not gonna do what I don't want to

Happy Birthday, Audrey.

This post is late in the day and incomplete, but I wanted to make sure I got something out for Audrey's birthday. The first two are just little sketches I did. The third one is an unfinished portrait that's taking me much longer than usual because it's so important to get it just right. I'll post it again when it's completed.

Happy birthday, Audrey. I meows you.

What?

About two weeks ago, in an appallingly large and beautifully smelly city, there lived a young woman. Let's call her Sarah. That's a nice, unpretentious name, easy to remember. No, on second thought, it's rather bland and over-used. Let's call her Helena, that's prettier.

So, where were we? Ah yes, there lived a young woman (Helena) who was rather unfortunately, well, we'll call it "obsessed" with a man, not quite so young as herself (we'll call him Alex, for no reason in particular), who was very kind, intelligent, witty, charming, attractive, and deep (not to mention genius), but also rather aloof. It wasn't that he didn't like her or anything, in fact he liked her very much. But he was terribly busy doing the sorts of things that geniuses do, such as writing proposals and giving lectures and computing and imbibing mind-altering substances and the like. So he simply didn't have time for emotional entanglements.

Now, it just so happens that our dear young Helena had come to a point in her life which, at least intellectually, also refused the admittance of emotional entanglements. However, being as she was, through no fault of her own, a rather intensely emotional person, she couldn't always avoid them. And being, for reasons unknown, particularly vulnerable upon first meeting this kind, intelligent, witty, charming, attractive, deep (not to mention genius), and aloof man (that's Alex), she can be said to have tripped and fallen into an especially knotty patch of "emotional entanglement."

Although Helena sometimes wished (rather wistfully) that she wasn't quite so talented when it came to falling in this manner, she couldn't deny the advantage it gave her. Namely, that she'd had a lot of practice picking herself up again, and had gotten rather skilled at it. And so, after her attachment to the idea of this particular emotional entanglement (not to mention physical entanglement) was gently rejected, first by kind Alex, and subsequently by her own intellect, pick herself up was exactly what she did. And the friendship that grew between the two of them as a result of all this nonsense was really quite sweet, if a tad distant.

So, that's settled, let's skip ahead a bit, shall we? Saaaay, 6 months ahead.

D-ding!

"We're gonna be pirates."

Helena stared at the text message in surprise. She hadn't heard from Alex in weeks.

"Um, haha, ok. Hi, how are you?"

Vwoop.

D-ding!

"I'm great! Because we're gonna be pirates!"

"Haha, don't be silly, piracy these days is vulgar and boring :P"

Vwoop.

D-ding!

"Are you free tonight? Want to meet for drinks somewhere?"

"Yeah, alright. It'd be good to see you."

Vwoop.

D-ding!

"Cool. Meet me at That One Bar By My House at 9?"

"Lovely, see you then."

Vwoop.

Helena walked into That One Bar By His House at 9:07pm and found Alex at a table in the corner. We can take it for granted that there was an affectionate greeting and the usual sorts of questions friends often ask each other when they haven't seen each other for weeks. But as those details are rather mundane, we will forge ahead. They were sitting at the same table, two drinks later, when intelligent Alex started repeating himself.

"We're gonna be pirates."

Helena looked at him. He seemed... serious. Even... nervous?

"Ok, I'll bite," she said. "What are you on about?"

He thought about taking her hands, to show how sincere he was, but decided against it. Instead he looked at her steadily and said in a very slow and deliberate voice,
"I have discovered the secret of time travel."
There were several seconds of stunned silence before Helena burst into an explosive fit of giggles. But Alex wasn't laughing.
"Oh my god, you're serious."
"What do you think I've been doing all this time? I've been shut up working on it for weeks, and I got it! It works! Listen, we could meet Einstein, Shakespeare, Queen Elizabeth I, anybody! And pirates! We could meet Blackbeard, Anne Bonny, Captain Kidd! We could actually MEET them! ...Aren't you excited?"
Helena had gotten very silent and still.
"I'm not going with you."
"What? No, no, no, that's not the line. You're supposed to say 'fantastic! when do we leave?' What are you doing?"
"No, I'm stopping this now. It started out alright, kinda cute and wistfully lighthearted and irreverent, but now it's gotten simply ridiculous."
"What? You can't just stop right in the middle of the story. I mean, it's barely gotten started. Wait. No! Sit down!"
Helena had gotten up to leave and was putting on her coat.
"You can shut it too, Narrator, we don't need you here."
There was a chilly silence as everyone in the bar stopped their conversations and turned to glare at Helena.
"I said shut it, Narrator."
...
"Hey, look, you can't get rid of the narrator! How is anyone gonna know what's going on?"
"Alex, just stop it, I'm leaving this story, it's no good, I can't believe in it."
"What's the problem? Was it the time travel? I thought that bit was kinda neat."
"No, the time travel was a great idea, and the pirates. It would be really fun. But it's... I just don't... Alex, wouldn't you rather go alone?"
"No. I want you to come with me. Don't be absurd, that's why I'm here, that's what the whole story is about."
"Exactly, Alex. That's what the story is about. You only want me to come with you because I want you to want me to come with you. Your name isn't really Alex, remember? And it's easier for me to believe that you (the real you) could invent an honest-to-goodness real bona fide time-travelling machine (although I expect it would take you more than a few weeks to do) than for me to believe that you'd want me, just me, to come with you as a "special companion" on your time traveling journeys. My disbelief abjectly refuses to suspend that far. Besides, it's been done, Doctor. And my name isn't really Helena, or Sarah either, and I'm not sure the real me really wants to go with you anyway. No, you go on ahead. Have your adventures and I'll have mine and when you come back to visit we can grab a beer and regale each other with our exploits. Bring me back a pirate peg leg. That I'll believe."
"I... but..."
"No, that's it, I won't discuss it anymore. 'The end,' Narrator."

The end.

Red Things

There are these red things everywhere. Some of them are bright and fiery and dramatic and some of them are dark and liquid and morbidly terrifying. Some inspire action towards, others flight. But they're just THINGS, that's the problem. They don't actually DO anything. Some have moving parts. But they don't THINK. Many can COMPUTE. But that's not the same thing. Thinking requires consciousness and the formula for that hasn't been discovered yet.
One zero zero one zero zero one one.
Rattattatt tatt tatt.
Many compute, some even FEEL. These red things. But feelings are deceivers. They inspire violence. Fiery. Dramatic. Morbid. Terrifying.

All these red THINGS.

Everywhere.

One can walk among trees and breathe deeply the pale blue air and forget. Drink the living greenness and peacefully succumb to the dank tenderness of the loving soil as it enfolds and overwhelms each wandering footstep, sweetly whispering, "forget."

Forget.

But there are all these RED THINGS.

EVERYWHERE.

Stubborn and insistent they swarm LIFE and PASSION and calculating foolishness. They laugh like children, apathetic and dangerous in their mindless games. Toy trucks, poppies, gem-faceted droplets, oxidized, licked clean, chewed on and torn, rubbed raw and shameful. Strawberry pulp, clotted pomegranate seeds, candy apple paint glossy on cold, cramped metal, exploding EXPLOSIONS! Blood, lust, life.

They are just THINGS.

And they are EVERYWHERE.



I want sushi.

Photo source

Sundial

Standing in the center one seems to be surrounded by water and peace
You kissed me there once, the two of us creating a shadow of time and forgetting time for the moment
Lost in blue sky and blue water
Standing in the center of the sun, the world, everything
Surrounded by diamond bright ripples and the light of all the universe
You my shining knight and I your lady

I went back there today
The place was half sunk and covered in goose shit so thick it looked like mud caked on the concrete
There were holes in my shoes, some couldn't help but get in

Photo Source

Doctor M

Doctor M comes in
With a grin
And a thin
Piece of sharp
Piece of metal
Like a harp
He will play your nerves

Rattle down your rib cage
Rage running up your spine
Come on be a friend of mine
You can keep the beast in line

Danger if released
Moaning in my sleep
Something has increased
Nightly creeps the creep

Medicate the need
Inject a grin
With a thin
Piece of sharp
Piece of metal
Thread a harp string
Through a needle

In your vein
In the same vein
Playing the complain game
Gotta let it go
Never let it show
Oh no

Making that incision
It's a big decision
But I'm on a mission
Free from my condition
Don't need a prediction
Got a predilection
For my own conviction
Lacking circumspection

4... 3... 2... 1...

M is for Monster

M is for Machine

M is for Medic, Medical, Medicinal

M is for Mean

M is for Man

M is for Mankind

Kind man

Gentleman

A fine, distinguished gentleman

Can get away with m--

Doctor M comes in
With a smile
Charges travel by the mile
He's been gone
For a long while
Oh, I'll
Never love again
Never let him in
Giving is a sin
Keep your cool grin

Ha ha, fooled him

Needs a cardiectomy
What's your diagnosis?
Maybe clitorectomy
Would shorten the prognosis

Needs a cardiectomy

What's your diagnosis?

Maybe clitorectomy

Would shorten the prognosis

4... 3... 2... 1...

Cat

There was a very small cat. It was like a tortoiseshell cat, except instead of being black and brown and tawny and gold, it was black and green and purple and blue with a white underbelly. This cat was fluffy, but half-starved. He wouldn't eat. So his fluff made him look like a normal-sized cat instead of the intensely scrawny thing that he was. I somehow felt responsible for this cat. He was at my friend's house, I was there for a party or something, but he didn't really belong to anyone. When I pet him I could feel how tiny he was. Nobody else was really paying attention to him.

Drunken Violin

Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

- So, remember last time we saw each other?
- Yeah.
- And I was all depressed?
- You were? I don't remember that.
- Yeah, I had just found out about ___ moving here and I was talking about wanting a family and being all cynical about, well, not just dating, but like, connecting with people.
- Yeah, I remember you talking about that, but you didn't seem too terribly depressed. I mean, you smiled too.
- I was pretty low, I'm glad if it didn't come across too strongly though. Anyway, turns out I was pregnant.
- Really.
- Ahhhhhh, yup.
- What… wow. What happened?
- I'm not really sure, might've been that painter, or the investor guy I was telling you about. Thing is we used condoms, you know. So, I mean, I guess there was spillage or something, I'm not sure.
- But I mean, you don't look… what did you do?
- Haha, what do you think? It was pretty unpleasant too. But I had just gotten, like, subsidized family planning insurance so at least it didn't cost me an arm and a leg. But yeah, I caught it early enough to do a non surgical pill thing and it was hell. I was so… sick doesn't even begin to cover it. For days.
- Wow, that's… but were you able to talk to these guys about it?
- No. I haven't said anything to either one of them. I feel like that's unfair of me, like I shouldn't make that decision without their input, but I don't know whose it is, which complicates matters. And I don't really have another option so it's pointless trying to argue it if one of them wants to keep it or put it up for adoption when it might not even be his so what say does he really have anyway?
- Something like that happened to me once.
- Yeah? D'you feel like sharing?
- Well, it was difficult. She didn't tell me, I didn't find out until much later. And, as you know, I don't want children. And I didn't then. But it was difficult being entirely excluded from that decision. And then hearing about it sort of secondhand.
- Wow, you're making me feel like a horrible person, haha.
- Well, just make sure your guys don't find * out about it.
- No, I totally made that up and I feel kinda bad.
- You made up…?
- Yeah, I was never pregnant, I made that up just now. But you've got this real story about that, so I kinda feel like an asshole, I'm sorry.
- It's alright.
- Ok, thank you. But you want to know something true?
- Yeah, alright.
- Remember that asterisk that interrupted you a bit ago?
- Yeah.
- Ok, I was writing this story/dialogue thing, the one we're having right now, on the notepad app on my iphone during some coat check downtime at the club on the painfully slow Wednesday night after Valentine's Day. And that asterisk was where the deja vu hit me. And I realized that I had written down the wrong dream.
- What do you mean?
- Hold on, I'm getting there. So these two guys came within view of my coat check window right when I had gotten to the asterisk point in the text (the asterisk wasn't there yet, I added it later) and they were checking out the pinball machine and I was looking at them and wondering if I had seen them there before, because, you know, they looked familiar. And I said, with my mind still half in abortion story land, can I take your coats? And the pretty one said, no, we're just waiting for a friend. To which I replied, casually, that's cool, do your thing. And then I remembered that I had dreamed all that because after I woke up, or as I was waking up, and the details were all fuzzy, I remember thinking, I would NEVER be having an abortion/pregnancy conversation with ____. Why would I be having that conversation? But I was thinking that because it had that weird predictive dream quality so I thought, you know, maybe I should write it down. But I didn't until right now. And I haven't actually had that conversation with you anyway. This is all fictional.
- This is true. We will probably never have this conversation. So, you dreamed the conversation? What does that have to do with those guys at coat check?
- Oh, I dreamed I was writing everything down and got interrupted by those guys. That's why they looked familiar.
- What made you decide to write it in the first place? In real life, I mean.
- Hmm, good question.
- It's maybe a little strange that you're making up stories about telling me made up stories about you having a pregnancy adventure.
- Well, I just started the pill again so I've been very aware of my body being sort of fooled into thinking it's pregnant. And I had just come out of that depression (rather suddenly, when I woke up on Valentine's Day, which was actually quite inappropriately timed, but whatever) which I was kinda thinking might be at least somewhat related to the hormones, and then my brain started making up this scenario (as I was walking to work) where my depression and longing for family turned out to be a direct result of pregnancy hormones. Anyway I thought about writing it down and realized that the only point of the whole pregnancy story was that it wasn't true. So it started as a lie, then became a dream, and then it went all meta. And now it's incredibly one-sided and rather pointless.
- That's a good point. I haven't said anything for a while, and most of my speeches have been just encouraging you to elaborate. Or to show I'm listening. My own abortion story was woefully limited.
- Yeah… I apologize for that. I'm very wary of making you up too much since you're a real person whose real personality interests me a great deal. Particularly because I don't know very much about it... you. For someone whose job it is to demystify some of the most baffling mysteries of the universe, you are very mysterious. There, I'm doing it anyway, I can't help it. You need to say something now.
- Would you like anything? A glass of wine?
- Yes. You? I'll get it. I owe you from before anyway.
- Oh! Well that's very nice of you.
- It's the least I can do. I've been using you heavily as semi-fictional inspiration. I'm really just trying to wiggle my way out of paying you royalties if any of this ever gets published. Or produced, if it's a play.
- Fair enough. I'll have the house red. What dream DID you write down?
- What? Oh, the wrong dream. Oh, it was weird. Totally non-predictive. Just very vibrant.
- Is it a secret then?
- Ha, if I say yes, you'll think much more of it than you should. But I'd still rather not tell you. Not even this imaginary you.
- So I'm in it then?
- Again, if I say yes, you'll think too much of it, but yes, you are. Saying very enigmatic things. Like the mysterious demystifier I've made you out to be.
- Maybe you'll tell me one day.
- No, it's been built up too much. But that's ok. You'll forget this conversation.
- How can I if we've never had it to begin with? That's a bit unfair, you know.
- What's unfair?
- Well, you having conversations with me that I'm not actually a part of. Whether you mean to or not you're developing and sort of nurturing this relationship with me that I don't know anything about. And on the one hand it is rather flattering, but on the other hand it gets in the way a bit of us developing a genuine friendship, doesn't it? I mean, even if your imaginary version of me is extraordinarily accurate, you will have had many more conversations with me than I have had with you. You're leaving me behind, leaving me OUT.
- This mirrors your abortion story, doesn't it?
- Yeah, that was some nice foreshadowing, was that intentional?
- No, it was a random stroke of genius.
- Very good.
- Thank you, Doctor Professor.
- But even that helps to solidify this symbolic connection between us that really hasn't had the chance to develop in real life. You made up this event in my personal history that foreshadowed, however accidentally, the opinions I'm expressing now, that you're also making up. You know me so well already that we can't get to know each other.
- I take your point. So where do we go from here?
- Well, I probably need to get back to work. Perhaps you'd like to find a new direction for your creative energies, since focusing on relationships seems to be making you unhappy.
- You've ruined my life.
- I know, and I'm sorry. But I really had nothing to do with it. See you again soon.

Pizza Dog

Once upon a time, actually it was yesterday, there was a collie who loved pizza. This collie loved every kind of pizza: cheese, pepperoni, sardines and anchovies, ham and pineapple, olives, mushrooms, white pizza, artichokes... anything you can think of to put on pizza: teriyaki chicken and rice, macaroni and cheese, chocolate chip cookies and caramel sauce, this dog loved it all (except the chocolate chip cookies because dogs are allergic to chocolate). And he liked every kind of pie also. Apple pie and pumpkin pie and lemon meringue pie and strawberry pie and, you know, a long list of pies.

Photo Source

The end.

Field and forest

In the field the sun is hot and the plow is heavy.

In the forest the fruit is plentiful.
You can pluck it from the trees.

Photo source

Phone Call

- Hello?
- Hey, it's Dad. How are you?
- I'm doing ok. How are you?
- I'm driving, right now, I'm on my way back up to Angwin from LA, I'm making good time, I should be there by noon.
- What were you doing in LA so early? Or were you staying…?
- I went down for the weekend. Spent some time with Grandma and Grandpa since I didn't get to spend much time with them over Christmas. And I went to La Sierra and met with them. That's finalized, I'm gonna tell PUC when I meet with them this week. So I'm definitely going to move.
- Oh, good!
- I'll stay in Angwin through December to shoot the movie, Napa Valley Dreams. I'm really excited about that. I'm making my first film! And La Sierra is building me a sound stage, like a… a TV studio so I'll be able to shoot The Closing Wood and have the cathedral in the studio and have the rest be CGI. And with the camera I now own, from Napa Valley Dreams, I'll be able to keep shooting my movies. And there's a pay raise too. So I'm really excited, I think this move is gonna be really good.
- That's great, Dad, I'm so happy for you!
- How are you? What's going on in your world?
- Well, I don't know. I've been kind of sad.
- You've been sad?
- Not like seriously… I'm kind of purging, I think. Like the issue's already dealt with and I'm just getting over it emotionally. I don't know, I've been thinking about relationships a lot. Too much. And I feel like, I guess I don't really believe in them. I feel like those interpersonal connections are just illusions.
- What? I'm having trouble hearing you, it sounds like this is important and I'm only getting about half of what you're saying.
- Ugh, ok. Um, I'm gonna hang up and call you right back, maybe that will reset the connection.
- Well it's on my end because I'm driving-
- I'm gonna just call you right back, ok? Bye.

- Hello?
- Hi, is that better? Can you hear me?
- Yeah, actually, it is. So what were you saying? There was a problem with Lizzie because you were going through something Lizzie had already been through?
- … What??
- Were you saying something about Lizzie?
- What? I don't know what you're talking about. This has nothing to do with Lizzie.
- Oh good. I'm glad to hear that.
- Lizzie's the only exception to this rule. Not that it's a rule. I don't know. No, I was saying that I feel like the whole human connection thing is just this stupid biological illusion meant to propagate, you know, the evolution of the species. But I REALLY want that connection, I mean, everybody wants a connection, everybody's looking for a connection.
- Yeah, it's ok to want a connection.
- Yeah. I just really don't believe in it. You know, we create our own world and everything passes through this filter of perception but there's this huge desire to sort of reach out and break through that and find some evidence of an objective reality that really doesn't exist. Or even if it does there's no way to know because we're all, you know, sort of trapped in our own phenomenology. Are you still there?
- Yeah. Can you hear me?
- Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you could hear me. But, like, I realized that I have this really strong physiological/emotional/whatever urge to have a family. Like, this deep urge to build a really solid, loving family unit, but I don't really believe in that. I mean, other people can do it, I've seen it happen, but I don't think I can. I feel like its just this really stupid biological desire that doesn't really make any sense and I don't want a family with, like, an illusion. I don't want to find someone and have kids and get a divorce, I don't want to find someone and have kids and stay together for the kids and be miserable. I want a real connection with someone, not something I just made up. But it's all made up, at least on some level, you know? The whole idea of real human to human connection is like this mental illusion. And I just-

Beep beep beep (call disconnected)

Fuck.

Legs

She sat on the beach,
or the floor,
whatever you like.

Her legs were stretched out in front of her.
Her left leg was considerably thinner and less muscled than her right.
The difference was growing more noticeable every day.

She wondered if she would ever be able to dance again.

One pillar and one twig.

My Learned Friend

One night as I lay dreaming I did see above me the whole contents of the universe shining brightly. Every star, every planet, every galaxy revealed itself to my eyes in clear and sparkling detail. Distant galaxies, usually faint and frail and small, now did appear large and luminous as the fullest moon. The whole of the night sky was aflame and glittering.

Photo source

As my sleeping eyes observed this spectacle with awe, the heavenly bodies began to swing and sway, interweaving in an intricate dance. When I screwed up my focus to perceive the patterns of their movement I saw the shapes I had first taken to be stars and galaxies in fact more closely did resemble living cells, bacteria, wriggling and shimmering across the sky, making war with each other, dying at the edge of a indefinite blackness.

Photo source

And I did desire to seek my learned friend who reads the heavens and understands their movements and their meanings. And I did desire to ask of him what laws govern the stars, making them appear to be as life devouring itself. But he was nowhere to be found.

Paint Peeler, 5 years old.

Once there was a little boy who peeled all the paint off the walls. And there were layers and layers of paint in different colors. So if you went into his house the walls were all multicolored in patches of blue and green and pink and white and brown. And when the little boy got through all the colors of paint and peeled them all off, his house was gone. There weren't any walls underneath all the paint.
So then he was just standing outside and there was a pretty tree with pink flowers and another one with blue flowers and one with white flowers and one with little green buds because it was springtime. And the bark of the trees was brown. So the little boy was happy because he still had his house because the trees had all the same colors. But now he didn't have peeling paint anymore. He liked to peel paint, but he didn't miss it because he liked looking at the trees better.
And then he turned into a bird and flew away. The kind of bird that he turned into was a red-breasted robin because it was springtime and he liked to sing. So he flew around and saw lots of things. So he could sing about them. He saw more trees with flowers and little leaf-buds. And he saw houses and cars. And he kept flying until he got to the ocean because he had never seen the ocean before when he was a little boy who liked to peel paint. But when he saw how big the ocean was he got scared because he was just a little red-breasted robin bird far away from home and before that he had been just a little boy who liked to peel paint and had never seen the ocean before.
But then a whale came up and said, "Don't be scared." The whale knew he was scared because he had turned back into a little boy and was sitting on a rock way out from the shore, and he was crying. But he stopped crying when the whale told him not to be scared because the whale was so big and friendly that he felt safe. So he crawled into the whale's mouth where it was safe and warm and he decided to live in the ocean for the rest of his life. And after a while he turned into a fish. But the whale didn't eat him when he turned into a fish because they had become friends, but also because the whale wasn't a kind of whale that ate fish. This whale ate krill. So they were friends for the rest of their lives.

Flower

I want to draw a flower but it is an angry flower and it sprouts fangs and eats all the other flowers. Its fangs are like thorns, but they are on its petals so it has a mouth. I want to draw a white flower, but it turns pink from flushing and then red after it eats the other flowers, even though flower blood is green. It turns red because it's hungry. Eating all the other flowers awakened its insatiable cannibalistic appetite. So I don't think I'll draw it. It's too sad a story. The flowers that would be eaten had families and lovers and little girls' hair to be woven into. But the flower I decided I'm not drawing is saddest of all. It has no more friends. It's just hungry. Instead I will draw ugly fat ladies. 3 of them.