Another retarded music track. This one’s an improv jam with me and k.t. We had a whistle, turntable, keyboard and bass guitar and we just went off on a tangent. Check it out.
I’ve been dabbling in musick for damn near ten years now. Started out in a bedroom/shed-rock band called XitRAM! with a few friends of mine. A year or so after XitRAM! more or less disbanded, I started doing some solo shit under the name Life Without Taffy, named for a passage in a psychology book. Life Without Taffy had a revolving cast of guest artists until I moved to Tampa. This is a more recent track from an unfinished concept album. Until I get some webspace of my own, my musicks gonna be hosted over at Soundclick. Check it out and let me know what you think about this particularly gay track.
My girlfriend, k.t., and I are both artists in two distinctly different styles. Ever since we’ve gotten together and such, we’ve been collaborating on projects. This one is a favorite of mine. A weird business man we drew after passing the paper back in forth. This is the first out of two we did at the same time. I’ll post that one as well.
So I’ve been trying for a while to digitize everything I’ve ever drawn should some catastrophe wipe all the boxes of papers and crap I got stashed in my closet. This is a fantastic example of the shit I was into drawing in middle school. I did this for my Spanish class in, I want to say, sixth grade. That would make it 1988 or so. I still draw more or less the same kind of monsters and junk, but my anatomy is a little better. Spanish, I have mostly forgotton. Oh, well.
One of the stupid little things I like to do on my lunchbreak at my soul-crushing retail supervisor job, is deface company property. Usually reserved to brochures and various paper propoganda. I drew this little picture on a page of a safety awareness packet that was more or less common sense stuff anyway. No grab-ass while on a ladder. Duh.
After a day or two of me not adding anything in particular to it I noticed a portion added by someone else. That person, not even able to draw a convincing asian stereotype on the first try, I think ruined the picture. I wrote a message and left it in the breakroom.
I figured out who drew this. It was this stocker kid who’s a fairly recent hire. I have no good things to say about him at all. Anyhow, he formed a rebuttal.
So this douche mistakes my self-deprecating humor as an admission of my inferiority as an artist. I draw better than him in my sleep with a matchstick and that doesn’t even make sense. I’m not the best artist of ever or anything but here’s an example of this fool’s artisitic ability.
So there you have it. The asian guy. Goku (I think that’s his name) from Dragon Ball Z and the worst renditions of Homer and Bart Simpson I have ever seen. This isn’t even bad in a good way like that god-awful thrift-store painting. It’s just bad.
So I was out thrifting with the girlfriend today and I saw this monstrosity hanging on the wall at the local Salvation Army. Beautiful and somewhat grotesque at the same time. I had to have it. The girlfriend doesn’t care for it that much, but I could look at it for hours. Freaking hours. Sometimes bad art is loads better that actual art. Where do I even begin with this one. Dang. The complete disregard for actual anatomy? The Windows? That guy hiding to the woman’s left with the jar on his head? This shit is fantastic. I have this hanging right above the computer I’m typing this up on. Anytime I want I can look right and see this bastard up on the wall and know I got something special.
