Saturday, April 10
Two: Do Work, Son
This little blob of nonsense is something I drew a few years ago, sitting on a beach in Del Mar watching my friends try to paddle a raft into the waves and cursing the sea at the tops of their lungs. That really has no relevance to this drawing at all but the memory's attached quite nicely.
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"The sea was angry that day my friends, like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli."
ReplyDeleteAnd through the waves crashing down upon us and the roar of an unforgiving sea, a resounding call to arms broke swiftly through the surf. A cry that would lead men into the depths of hell with no regret--save that they hadn't charged in sooner. It was the pure and unrelenting yell of "Do work son!"