I haven't written or drawn anything of worth since God only knows. Been too busy with the other, more practical aspects of my life. What I haven't quite internalized yet, is that if I am to exercise being an artist, I should consider writing and drawing as, yes, practical aspects of my life. It took a nocturnal encounter on a train with my friend Bren to make me remember this. And it's true: you cannot expect to make apple juice out of the lemmons that God has seen fit to hand you on a pain-filled, joyful silver platter.
Then again, I can always plead the excuse that I live and breathe in an environment, where the slightest movement of the arms results in my elbows rubbing on someone else's "important" face. Fact of life, but I am so tired whining about it. I'll stop. I promise.