Self-portraiture is like looking in a mirror covered in grease. It can be hard to make out anything clearly.
Here's a few of my sketches of a cross-section of the people from the old neighborhood.
Two blocks down from where I lived I used to sit and read outside this run down little laundry-mat. There were always bums demanding smokes and packs of screaming kids running in and out of there. Kafka and Tide packets were a welcome distraction.
Sometimes you find old friends in new places. Justin was one of them.
My friend Justin is a real fixture in the neighborhood. He is something of an urban legend in his own right for surviving being a chauffeur for blues and rock acts for 20 years - he is also known to wield a mean punchline.
Clearly intractably adorable. I have no idea why she gave me the time of day.
Above, Girl #1 that I was sick deep infatuated with. She reminded me of an Elliot Smith song from New Moon. "You're so pretty and smart, So why do you feel that you have to hold your toungue?"
Trouble comes in all varieties and shapes. This woman had seen her share of it.
Girl #2 that I was also very sick deep infatuated with. I never got more than her name out of her but she was always pretty close to where I was seeing a show at - for like 5 years. I couldn't decide if she was a New Face in Hell or just stalking me. All I really knew was that she was beautiful.
The best thing about being an artist is also the worst. Inspiration is like being drunk.
Like I said, Girl #2 would show up in the neighborhood a lot. This is a good example of something stupid that us guys think about chicks that give us ragers - she is purchasing a bagel and I am busy trying not to picture what her legs look like. However, this was not really meant to be. She ended up meaning something to me anyhow.
Also, neither one of these intensely sexy, unique women ever took it upon themselves to camp out in front of my building or testify that I was about to murder them. For that, I am eternally grateful.
Never, ever, argue with a man who has just told you he is Harry Houdini.
This guy was the craziest bum in OTR - speaking in tongues, Manson arms, the whole 9 yards. He has my lighter in his hand in this drawing. We were outside Kaldi's, when that was open in 2008, arguing about the odds of me getting my lighter back.
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