The Crazies are in the Ink

What better visualization of just how attention-deficient and convoluted my mind is than with a page from my sketchbook? Be afraid. Be very afraid:


I really have no attention span whatsoever. Inspiration flashes and is gone if I'm not quick enough with the pen.

Some closeups, and may I just say, holy fuck, Ouch. Just...ouch. This is a perfect representation of how I view piercings, and thus the lack of them anywhere on my body. Just the thought sends shudders down my spine and sets my nerves tingling. Eck.

Moving on...past the disgusting piercing (how do I draw these things?), I have always enjoyed caricatures, such as those found in political cartoons, though I'm no politics buff myself. This (poor) guy actually turned out more proportional than I had intended. There is also no intentional underlying message. The image just appeared in my head. I wonder if that is what it is like for writers, except with words instead of lines racing silently through their head.



I also, apparently, have no respect for orientation whatsoever, even with my scribbles. I guess I draw more in a circle pattern. May be because of my left-handedness, from shifting the book around trying to find a position that's comfortable (though, I often wonder, wouldn't that be the case regardless of hand dominance?). This, by the way, is one of the few cases where I just start drawing without an inkling of a predetermined image in my mind.

Hmm, well, that was a nice way to spend a few insomniatic hours. Maybe now I can fall asleep.