I drew this while listening to a story on This American Life. Here is an excerpt from it.


"I like badgers for the same reason probably I like the state of utah, where I never was, you know? Something that has some kind of...what's it called, like a secret or it's hiding, or it's like...they attract me in the way that they might be hiding something cool from me.

If he found the treasure, he wants to know, could he keep it?
Maybe, I say, if he doesn't tell anybody.
To which he answers precisely as I know he will, the only way he possibly can.
He says, but what if i told EVERYBODY?

Who wouldn't rather live in a world where if you believe you should have an adventure, you do?"

There are not many more sweet things in my life than this small striped dog.

It would be easier not to involve yourself in this.

Some demons come out of holes and fight each other.

The verge.

When I was making this drawing, I was like, MAN, that ship needs a naked mermaid on the front. So I started drawing one, and it turns out that I drew me by mistake.

Pirate night, at Operation: Art friends forever yielded a few of the best drawings of pirates i've ever made.

The house I was raised in was built over a potato farm in 1957. If you dig in the backyard, you can still find teeny-tiny green and strange potatoes. This is a hyperbole.

Drawn after a disappointment. Goats always cheer me up.

I've been into mermaids, and other sealife, lately.

This is a costume I made for a robot themed party I attended a while ago.

Exaggerated from a lady in coffee exchange.

Over Thanksgiving, I discovered a really awesome picture of my grandpa's mother's family. Here is my rendition, mostly painted with india ink and, gross, spit. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, my uncle didn't want to part with his copy of the photo so I had to make my own. It is from roughly 1900, and the mustachioed man in the center is Harry "Hobo Harry" Holtzman, next to his lovely and gruff-looking wife Mathilda, on the left, small uncle Billy, in the back, and Estelle, my grandpa's mother, in the starchy frock with small dog, Roxie. They are in their backyard in New York City. Harry was a NYC policeman, and nicknamed "Hobo Harry" because he often gave donotions out-of-pocket to the hobos that dwelled near battery park, which was his patrol division.

I played scrabble in the park with Matt a few months ago. We saw some high school runners.

This little man is often drawn--he usually represents sadness or lonliness, but this time he represented that I got new red and green paints and wanted to use them.

Old Eggfoot

I don't know where to begin with these sketchbook scannings, because I want to go back in time a little bit with my posts. I decided to start with this drawing about balance--it was made a few months ago and was the impetus for my tattoos, which are eggs on the tops of my feet.