is out now! Here is the cover free of all text…
And the variant black and white version of the art before any coloring was done by me (see above for a comparison), this is a wrap cover that opens up to reveal a small poster image as seen below…
Cascading across my skin, wrapping soothingly, warmly. Layers, with the top one quilted and stitched in coalescing patterns of burgundies and blues. Little puffs of dreamy wispy fibers, like tiny huggable forests and rolling squishy plains that you can’t help but wiggle toes in. Lazily curled up in it. Relaxed and contented. A sturdy strong contour’s edge, heated, rests between my palms. Firm pressure against my lips, as the smoky scent of brewed invigoration wafts through my nose, reinforcing the craving like an addiction. Sipping coffee with a relish of satisfaction to come, leaning back into pillowy goodness. Just a few more minutes before needing to work.
In Our Own Bed
January 10th 2012
Casual speed, details passing by too quickly, but captivating nonetheless. Reds, oranges, sandy golds and tans. Spiny plants of russets, and faded dusty greens. Giant ornate slates of rock and sand carved stone, some the color of coal. Mysterious and alien, beautifully vast. It allows one to just “be”. It takes me in, to fall in love with the swell inside… “maybe I could live here forever”. The quiet low deserted hills and subtle dusty rock littered slopes that meet with sudden dramatic sharp cuts of jutting cliffs. Like enormous petrified beasts of a bygone age, chiseled by the winds, majestic and powerful, yet gentle, and of calming ease. The numerous cracks and crevices that trace the angular edges, creating a tapestry of strange entrancing shapes, like dry scaly terra cotta hued skin. It mesmerizes, begging to stay, to leave the rest of the world behind and to drift through the intoxicating fields of darkly Joshua Trees and cacti, like some long lost otherworldly friends that have come to embrace. We keep going.
Driving Home Through The Desert
January 9th 2012
Large and cushy, soft, cozy. Dark and rich grey, with the slightest hint of chocolate tones. Smooth ripples pushing outward from my fingertips, as they unconsciously run along one surface edge, silky, warm, inviting. It mellows.
Scott And Heather’s Sofa
January 8th 2012
Fine textures, flexible, but firm in my grasp. The weight of it pleases. The sounds of faint crinkles and “scruffles” pleases. The action of it pleases. Time drifts easily. Melting into the events, I know these people. Observing through their words, wanting to see more. Realization, I glance up at the clock, only a few minutes left before temporarily leaving, but I don’t want to leave them.
Reading Dead And Gone By Charlaine Harris
January 7th 2012
Drudging, sitting, staring at colored lights, waiting on signals to get a little bit closer to living. Only moving in segments, stopstart, stopstart. Inwardly anxious, just want to get to where we’re going. Minutes, hours, lost to nothingness. Pleasant conversation. Maybe we should eat there sometime, thoughts drift by.
Driving In The City
January 6th 2012
A quick burst of oxygen, with a slight chill, the releasing feel of a sigh and the inevitable inhale that follows. The feeling is alive and briefly fresh. Broken by the scents of concrete, paved ground, and french fries. Unnatural odors of gasoline and exhaust fumes permeate like an unseen cloud. Sounds of whooshing pushed air, temperate spinning rubber, and a distant horn echoes off of metal and stucko. There is an energetic hustle and bustle penetrating atmosphere. Exhilaration.
Exiting Our Hotel In Las Vegas
January 5th 2012
Sliding on, over the tips and unique angles of bone and flesh, a comforting firmly woven texture, smooth and strong. Though familiar and common, it always feels fresh, a promise of a careful cushy barrier to gruff surfaces of a hard world. An instant soothing, warming by a minuscule fraction of a degree. The ritual always ends with a sturdy tug and pull, and a final soft snap against the skin of my calf.
Putting On Socks
January 4th 2012
Glossy, and shining. Shades of browns and golds, with just the slightest flecks of light greens. They gleam, happy, content, and beautiful. The edges soft white, with pinkish creamy curves that ease around into a pleasing almond shape. Encircled by rows of long arcing outward, like an archer’s bow, are dark fine feathery fibers, meeting just barely at the inner and outer edges. Tiny ripples of expression, smiling with a deepness of loving recognition. I want to stay here, immersed in the vibrancy of them.
Wendy’s Eyes On Her Birthday
January 3rd 2012
A protrusion of round hardness, slightly long but small in size. Getting extremely close to it though, makes it seem as if it were some giant strange trunk or trumpet, extending sideways off a vertical spire of copper and brass. It’s blackness slightly muted or dulled, and it has fine cuts of valleys forming angled pointed ridges that run around it’s wider fatter blunt end. These taper down it’s shaft toward the spire that it is embedded into. The insertion end, cut and beveled running around the circumference, where it enters a shiny smooth opening. There are the tiniest of grayish fibrous particles that have planted themselves along the top side, some filling in the valleyed ridges, making the shapes more distinctly visible. The texture of the ridges against my skin, is like the tongue of a cat, but just slightly as I twist it in a clockwise turn, to hear the mundanely familiar click. A flash illuminates, a rapid burst of fluorescent white. And tiny little particles flirt up into the air, catching the light, like spec sized planets floating through space.
Turning On The Lamp
January 2nd 2012
Fuzziness. Dark, and with deep reddish hues. A sensation of light trying to seep through the porous barriers. Dryness, stickiness, struggling to pry apart, the edges stuck together, a seam of adhered flesh. Granules that feel large as boulders, scraping across, trapped between a rolling surface and a low hotly agitated sealed lid of meagerly shifting coherency. Finally the cracking crusty mire breaks away, just barely. A heaviness persists, like the inner misty world is pulling back down with all it’s might. But dim light crashes through, cutting a white, yellow and red arc across the crease of the horizon, the reddish dark recedes upward and downward. Another world, of hazy melting colors comes into view. Swaying to the right, the source of the dim light, a smooth and spotted transparency framed in cold painted metal. On the other side, a grey cold fog clouds the air, adding to my blurry early confusion. The vaporousness embraces spindly textured branches. They move about, as unfelt gusts push against them, making them appear like hundreds of skinny boney darkened arms shaking toward the sky. I hear canine yelps and a pitch of high chirps, and fluttering wings.
Waking Up
January 1st 2012