This is some good shit. Kind of. There’s seeds for at least 12 stories in here. The drawing seems to come out so much more loose & flowing & shit when it’s just doodling on what we used to call typing paper (nobody types on paper any more). Things tend to come out better when you just don’t give a fuck, when you’re just playing, having fun. When it’s a beautiful piece of Strathmore bristol board & you’re making bold permanent strokes on it; important information, which wants to be the best quality from the smallest quantity (brevity is the soul of wit) & really ought to be carefully elegantly properly placed. Dunno. Maybe I should do all my shit on copy (not typing) paper, but then the original art would be like really cheesy would that be better like ephemeral but real like I vomited it up in the alley behind the crappy diner in the really bad part of town. Like Kerouac, like I wrote it on a roll of toilet paper in a shitty motel on Route 66 in 1955 [citation needed] (it wasn’t toilet paper). I don’t do art especially for the collector’s market & fuck you for making me think about that. But I should be commenting on the shit that’s going down now, with my witty clever wry commentary, should I not? I gotta go.