Drawing at the End of the World: September 2006

Survived this time

Hi Folks, I somehow made it to Atlanta with all my limbs. How in sam hell anyone survives while driving on Atlanta highways is beyond me. So...I'm here, and I'll be here for 3 months. You'll see me again at Christmas. That doesn't mean a whole lot online except for the fact that now, I don't have access to a scanner at the moment. I took pictures of the trip--and man, was it boring!!! Should have rode the rails instead. Running from the police and meeting all kinds of hobos and vagabonds would have at least given me a store of more interesting memories. You'll see the piccies as soon as I can get them off the cameras. I mean, I *still* run from the police, but with none of the urgency you have while hopping onto a freight car.

Sorry about the lack of content, but I am in a quandry. Just how much information do I reveal about myself and those around me while online? So much as happened, but ha! I shall never tell you.

I'm going through a drawing program to get better at drawing. in 3 months I will be much better. In the meantime--I told you you'd have to suffer through a bunch of ill-concieved nonsense. Here's some more drawings I did a long time ago of rooms in a spooky house. It getting near Halloween and all, I thought it might be appropriate; not just because of the theme, but because of the utterly ameturish execution.

Love,
Adrienne

Who Dis Heah? Who Dat Deauh?

Hi Folks, I'm gonna be out of town in the ATL for 3 mo. or so, but unlike those negligent bastards who completely er...neglect their viewing public, I'm gonna take you with me. The entire road trip will be documented with pictures, and you will take a small peek into the world that is slowly killing me. At the end of 3 mo. I shall be wiser, understanding all the mysteries of CRUNK.

Love,
Adrienne

Sundae Evening chat

C'mon, people, I know you're out there, I can hear you breathing!! It's Monday nite over here in Dairyland, and the Labor Day weekend is over. Time to clear out the mothballs on your long underwear with the convenient flap in the back. Time to dig in and build up that extra layer of fat for the winter. What? You already have one? You're halfway there!

One project

Had this story in my head for a while. The opening scene takes place in depression-era new Orleans at a jazz funeral. The entire procession are characters in the story. Maybe one day I'll read it to ya.