JH Williams III

Out this week…

jhw3 — Thu, 17 May 2012 04:14:34 +0000

Batwoman issue 9 is out this week. This being Trevor McCarthy’s first issue, I hope you all enjoy his work. And we also have guest cover artist Ben Oliver’s beautiful imagery gracing our book this month as well…

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jhw3 — Thu, 17 May 2012 04:07:50 +0000

Lush thick stylish lines and strokes, the black of them pops away from the white of the paper appealingly, all set within a beautiful designed hardcover. There is exquisite vitality to this work, a craftsmanship joyous to observe. And you see the artist has joy in doing it as well, it hums with it, like the printed copy somehow captures this essence for us to absorb through our fingers, our eyes, our minds. I’m ecstatic to see the new Grogan book is out, Grogan’s Loyalty, from Oni Press. I’m typically jumbled today, it is wednesday after all. But all for good reasons, today is the antithesis of yesterday for my mood. Though a bit jumbled, the subject of the day is consistent in each moment. My mind seems to be coated, wallpapered in it. Putting final touches on a script with my writing partner. Worked up a new cover sketch. Saw a new page from Trevor McCarthy for next month’s Batwoman. Managed to get some drawing done on a new double page spread for issue 13. All of this seems to say my life some days are quite simple in terms of expectations. Regardless of how many different things need my attention, it all usually remains tied together…

Wrapped Up In Comics
May 16th 2012

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jhw3 — Wed, 16 May 2012 04:17:33 +0000

Wound up tight and stretched beyond rational thought at the same time. Prickling and twitchy, creases in my brow, the tiny nerves and muscles underneath acting in unison to physically convey the edginess felt within. I’m so pissy today! You ever have times where you just feel edgy and agitated for no apparent explanation? I’m mean, its a perfectly normal day as any other, nothing out of sync, all as expected. But yet there is this underlying current to myself that just feels like annoyance, I’m annoyed and don’t know why. I’m sure I am being annoying. I suppose this can occur like any other random emotional state people can experience without a change of routine, such as some days are happier than others, even though there really isn’t a specific reason. So I guess it makes sense to have times of unwarranted irritability. I’m curious what causes these fluctuations. Is it something unseen in the atmosphere that causes various reactions? Is it bio- chemistry? Reactions in a change of diet? Or is just a little insanity, temporary irrationality as part of the human condition? I know I’ve seen animals behave randomly on an emotional level as well. Living with a pet you can tell these things. Sometimes they can be very happy, other times they can be “get the fuck away from me”. And it all seems somewhat random occasionally. The sad part of it all is the knowing of the negative energy toiling away in my brain, and feeling childish in that its there at all, its ridiculousness. Kinda just sets me off some more. Blah! And I’m certain no one wants to be reading this gibberish either. Go do something that will lighten your mood, I know I need to. Hopefully tomorrow I will actually have something more interesting to write…

A Damned Moody Fucker I Am
May 15th 2012

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jhw3 — Tue, 15 May 2012 03:56:21 +0000

A package opening seemingly as any other batch that I’ve had before. Doodling away as I always do, nothing noticeably out of the ordinary. Everything is all set, design construction complete and ready to go. Then as I begin to apply the next stage…Horrible, Shock…”what the hell is this?!” Blotches, overly absorbent causing bleeding, the strokes feather and sponge outward, this is not good at all. I stand up rapidly in frustration, double checking the label of the package, and all is as it should be. So why the hell is the crapness happening? The blacks aren’t black, they cloud even after multiple layers. The grey tones just sit there heavily and really don’t want to blend. Unfortunately the stacks I have are all I have. I’m going to have to fight my way through this for awhile, hoping that its merely a funky batch, and that Strathmore hasn’t changed the formula to my favorite working surface. That would be beyond aggravating, as I scoured and tested for a good year or more to find the type of boards that worked for me the best. Suck!

Bad Art Paper Makes Me Insane
May 14th 2012

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jhw3 — Mon, 14 May 2012 03:27:29 +0000

It stands tall as the heat rises this afternoon. Summer is setting in, and before my eyes it beckons like some shining proud tower made of clear crystal. Cold as ice, the chill causes condensation, like sweat, to bead up and run down in streams along the glass curves of its body as I hold it with increasingly numbing fingers. Contained within is an exacting formula, dark as black coffee, but sweet. When taking a swig, it gives a rush and crisp to the tongue’s taste-buds. And hits the belly with a deep satisfaction that releases an instant sigh. The sweetness is the proper kind, not the icky cornsyrupy flavor that comes with most other variations. There is no strange sour aftertaste build up because its blended with real sugar, natural for the most part. The fizz bubbles between my teeth, which is always a somewhat surprising pleasant sensation, and always following a few gulps brings a belch regardless of polite company or not. A bit trite of a pleasure, but a pleasure none the less on a warm Sunday.

A Frosty Mexican Coke
May 13th 2012

New Pages Will Be Available, Finally!

jhw3 — Sun, 13 May 2012 18:57:55 +0000

We’re finally putting pages for Batwoman 5 up in the shop, this next Saturday May 19th noon pst. For your enticement…

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jhw3 — Sun, 13 May 2012 03:51:17 +0000

Slick black round and shiny, it cups carefully and heatedly the contents piled high within its rim. Sitting in the center, oozing delightfully is deliciousness colorfully displayed in bright oranges, begging to be spooned up voraciously. Slightly gooey and thick, and sticky too. The sensation rolls around along multiple levels of taste. When done just right, there is no other perfect combination of appetite satisfaction to compare. Today’s is okay, deli served, certainly nowhere near as good as our homemade recipe. But the smoothness with the melty robust flavors and texture are still divine. Its the one thing that almost anybody loves, young and old, even the lactose intolerant usually at least sneak a bite because its that enticing whenever its around. I’ve only met one person in all my life who doesn’t like it, and we all love to tease them about it too, they certainly get odd stares whenever they make their dislike proclamations. But we still love them anyway.

Simply Mac And Cheese (with a little pepper for kick)
May 12th 2012

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jhw3 — Sat, 12 May 2012 06:40:00 +0000

I was doing pretty good today, upbeat but a little tired. Then I saw a disheartening news report today that really hits home. It was about the recent decision to cut off unemployment benefits for people needing jobs. What made it quite profound for me was that the news report was national news and they actually came here to Merced, our humble small town. You see, the problem is while the California unemployment percentage rate has dropped slightly (less than a percent actually), here in Merced we’re at 20% unemployment, there just is not enough jobs building quick enough here. 20% percent is a scary number, thats one in five people unable to find work. And it greatly saddens me when I see a family in my town that is going to lose a precious safety line to keep them afloat disappear. The time limit for benefits was was 99 weeks, and now suddenly, that has been cut to 75 or less. Its ludicrous to reduce the benefit time when I’ve seen report after report that its taking some people 2 years or more to find work, and then its usually for less than what they used to make. Ironically I also saw the report of one of the largest banks losing 2 billion dollars this year due to ridiculous risk taking on bad financial derivatives, this was a lead factor in causing the recession in the first place, and some clearly have not learned a lesson. A bank acting so recklessly while people who need help are not going to get it is beyond aggravating, its just stupid. I just don’t know what government expects people to do, there are not enough jobs. Yes they are coming back overall for the country, but not nearly in the amounts needed. Policies in place by the administration are slowly working, but it seems congress cuts the working programs at the knees by making other poor decisions, causing poverty rates to go up. I do believe we’ll get back up to capacity as a nation, its just going to take time, obviously more time than our own elected congress is willing to give. Maybe its time that all elected officials be forced to have term limits. Maybe getting rid of the idea of career politicians will force elected officials to actually do things to help people rather than harm them. One thing I can say for certain, is that I can feel lucky that I have work, but sad too when so many others may end up going without things they need very soon. I don’t mean to sound preachy, and I don’t usually say political statements in public forums, but this report really got to me. So if you can, be giving to charities that are about helping those in need in your community.

Thankfully Grateful
May 11th 2012

Batwoman Covered…

jhw3 — Fri, 11 May 2012 04:30:38 +0000

Here is the cover to Batwoman 12. I had planned putting this up in micro stages of progress, but simply didn’t have the time to scan and save each phase meticulously like I said I would. That will have to wait for some other day. So here is the basics as I usually post these things…

The rough sketch version for editorial approval…

The Black and White version. Here is where I added background details not evident in the sketch. Since the composition was going to be using a mirror as I was trying to indicate in the rough version above. I realized that for this image to work and have a recognizable use of a mirror, the cover needed to have full backgrounds as a scene, otherwise the context of the mirror effect would’ve been confusing. Background details for a setting on a cover has been something I’ve tended to avoid, sticking with design elements instead to present a more symbolic idea. But ultimately that wasn’t going to work here. So backgrounds got placed in to set the mirror context. Which plays into how the color would work as well to finalize the mirror idea, as explained further below.

The color version. You’ll note that the logo/text information is placed in here at this color stage. I felt it important for the image to work from a design idea properly, the logo had to become a part of the art directly, to play up the mirror effect as needed, so I embedded it into the final in a way that there is no other version. You’ll note I digitally did a mirror effect for Batwoman rather than draw that in by hand. I felt it best to handle it that way because of the Bloody Mary part is so bold. I think it would’ve been extremely problematic to have tried drawing Batwoman mixed with Blood Mary and then be able to have multiple effects in the final color. This allowed me to keep the style used for Bloody Mary independent from everything else. So the last digital additions, the use of a background setting, and the pop color of the inset stars and star panel against the surreal quality of the idea, helped to make this cover unique from previous Batwoman covers I’ve done. So thats good, I’m always wanting the covers to do new things.

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jhw3 — Fri, 11 May 2012 04:17:24 +0000

Enigmatic and powerful. Full of esoteric riveting drama. Bold sways of melodic symphony, grand as a full scale orchestra, but so much more intimate than that. Uplifting without relying on expected hopeful sounds, more like reaching for the stars and begging to touch them. There is a joy that peeks through the rhythmic pulses, even within the melancholic subtext of the lyrical stories being told. This is music designed to seduce, guided from a piercing lovely voice that will shatter your heart and patch it back together, reconfiguring your emotional state.

Listening To Florence + The Machine: Ceremonials
May 10th 2012

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jhw3 — Thu, 10 May 2012 06:09:43 +0000

Further ruminations on the feel of the days of the week: Wednesdays are always quite similar to Mondays, in that chaos easily sets in. But rather than it stemming from readjusting to Monday thought patterns for work mode from the more lazy sensation of Sundays, Wednesdays are when it becomes quite obvious that there isn’t enough time in the week to do what needs doing. Especially by late afternoon of a Wednesday. Worry slides in on time versus output, raising stress levels, knowing that really there are only two days left to accomplish certain expected tasks. Wednesdays usually suck, but on the upside, new comics are in. So I guess it kinda balances out, yeah?

Just Another Panic Wednesday
May 9th 2012

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jhw3 — Wed, 09 May 2012 04:16:15 +0000

Fluttering and toiling, alone it scurries and hurries. Speeding off suddenly only to return a short time later. There is a certain captivating nuance to its patterns, graphically striking, beautiful in its ornateness, causing fascination while observing its purposeful activities. Although there is an attraction in viewing this behavior, there is smart sense in being cautious around its movements. Its wrapped in coils of black and yellow, tiny hairs protrude delicately, the colors signifying pain and harm to those who would threaten, and not difficult to provoke a fury. It builds and frets, a most intricate but simple grey network of little caves to attend to. Each visit a routine, to investigate, and fiddle, and encircle, almost like a ritualistic dance only for itself before zipping away with a buzz of amber translucent wings. There is an almost elegance to this sharp little thing, and admiration for its diligence. For each day we have to destroy it’s handiwork because of wanting to relentlessly construct right outside our door. The poor thing is endlessly confused as to why its job doesn’t seem to end, that the small house its been making seems to keep vanishing. So the creature has to start all over again and again, we’re probably making it feel senile. As fascinating as it is to watch, we most definitely can’t have a nest of stinging little beasties hanging so near. They’ve been in the house before, trust me, that isn’t any fun at all. Hopefully it will soon lose its patience and move on to somewhere else it can call home.

A Wasp Housing Development
May 8th 2012

Morrison and Cons

jhw3 — Tue, 08 May 2012 04:34:15 +0000

Last week or so saw the announcement of the MorrisonCon guests, or at least some of them anyway, and I’m among that list. This will be my only convention appearance this year. Unless DC ends up needing me to appear somewhere for some very specific reason. My schedule is so tight that it just makes it impossible to do conventions. And my commitment to doing the Grant Morrison event was made last year. Right now I’ve no idea what I’m going to “bring to the table” so to speak, but I’m sure the event will be entertaining. Its turning out to be a really good group of people for this!

Here’s a link to follow particulars, location and stuff…The Con.

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jhw3 — Tue, 08 May 2012 04:25:35 +0000

Mondays! More often than not are a bit chaotic. And always kinda have been for me, and stereotypically so for others as well. Its funny how different each day of the week really feels. I can almost tell what day it is by concentrating on what energy the day emanates. As another example, Sunday always feels lazy, even if we’re out and about doing some activity away from home. Friday’s feel more vibrant. It’s like the week has an energy vibe cycle that remains relatively consist from week to week regardless of what is going on in the daily routines in my life. I’m curious why this is. But then again, maybe its just how I’m perceiving things, and no one else sees this as I do.

The Cycle Of Seven Days
May 7th 2012

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jhw3 — Mon, 07 May 2012 03:50:23 +0000

Pollen obviously is drifting through the air invisibly to my eyes, because allergy afflictions have set in this week, and seem to have manifested quite profoundly today. And I just happen to be one of the rare individuals who is also allergic to medications designed to fight off the problems, so I have to live with it. But I find that this is truly a double-edged sword, as when allergens are in full density mode this time of year, this means that our garden has the most mesmerizing roses blooming wildly in numerous quantities. Stunningly gorgeous mellow whites, there are whites that are edged in soft pinks, some are vivid yellows, or vibrant crimsons, deep enticing reds, one bush that the blooms start off being intensely fuchsia then softens as they age, and my favorite being this uniquely almost fluorescent blood orange. They always grow so fully and tall, some branches so loaded with the flowers that they appear to be arranged packed tightly bouquets that you might receive from a Florist shop. Every year we are always impressed and pleasantly surprised by the colorful abundance of our garden. The funny thing about it is we really aren’t much into the whole gardening thing, we do very little actually. Everything is basically watered as they should be and pruned back at the right time of year, and added fertilizer occasionally, thats it. I think it really is that we’re fortunate to have hearty breeds of roses, some already here when we bought the place, and others well selected when we added to the vista. The simplistic beauty found in our backyard can easily soothe, melt the rough edges of the day, grounding the mind to the here and now. Although I’m unfortunate in that pollens really tax my system, its more than made up for in the enjoyment of the blooming petaled colors the my scratchy eyes get to see each day. Almost making my appreciation of their existence sweeter, I’m privileged to have this.

The Vitality Of Blooms
May 6th 2012

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jhw3 — Sun, 06 May 2012 07:02:38 +0000

On this fine day of comics celebration partaken by fired up comics shops everywhere, we here got the special pleasure of hosting a very good artist for a few hours. His most recent work is on the Archaia Press edition of Dark Crystal. The work is quite impeccable and certainly earned the brief stint it had with a well deserved place on the New York Times Best Seller list when it had been first released. And to top it off is the fact that I’ve known this artist for almost two decades, and proud to call him my friend. He’s had a long road to get to this point, but now more and more fans are discovering his talents and enjoying his craftsmanship greatly, as witnessed when seeing the delighted faces at the sketches he would do in their copy of the book. If you’ve not seen the Dark Crystal volume one book yet, I suggest that you seek out a copy immediately. In times like this when comics are at a peak profile from high powered films like The Avengers featuring the full gamut of hollywood might, and having days of free give-away comics being promoted on TV news programs, its best to remember that other types of work are still in need of attention, produced by artists that may not be as well known but love the medium all the same. Artists like my friend Alex.

Talking About Alex Sheikman
May 5th 2012

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jhw3 — Sat, 05 May 2012 04:26:13 +0000

I feel like I’m perpetually frowning, mood in a funk. Not really from anything of significance, just more from annoyance. In a rush today, even though sitting still in one place. Having to do a rash of writing that I wasn’t ready for. Inserted ideas that had to be quickly developed. I hate that feeling of having to push through something due to lack of time or whatever. I get grumpy from it. I’m not much fun to be around when I feel this way. I try to change my conscious behavior, to put forth a better attitude, but find that I slip down into the mire easily. And honestly, there is no one else to blame for my disposition. So I guess I’m really just annoyed with my own petulant self.

Bleh!
May 4th 2012

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jhw3 — Fri, 04 May 2012 02:56:07 +0000

Randomness in my thoughts this day as I ruminate on various projects. A new cool thing has come way, and appropriately so since this is the month about new vitality. This month being named from the greek goddess Maia, goddess of Spring, of growth, of renewal. This is the time to define ourselves by moving toward something new, growing out of what came before, to evolve our expectations. There is an inherent metaphysical aspect to spring, as new life begins to blossom and birth in nature. So too should our minds, our psyches, shed off decrepit ideas, while remaining rooted to them as learning experiences that will inform and seed ideas to come. Not to do so is stagnation, and withering.

May I Please Have Another
May 3rd 2012

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jhw3 — Thu, 03 May 2012 04:35:22 +0000

Phantasmagoric pictures painted within my mind’s eye by words illustriously chosen. Poetic in their flow, but edged sharply, concisely. Grim overtures of fantastical ideas of genre, but with a little wink, and a spiked nudge to the rib. Joyously and ravenously embracing, while at the same time turning it upside down within visions of multidimensonalism (an appropriate imagined word for the subject at hand). There is no other quite like taste of these works, each enticingly engaging within only a few pages of reading, causing one to sigh with satisfaction. I’m currently onto the Von Bek Stories.

The Writings Of Michael Moorcock
May 2nd 2012

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jhw3 — Tue, 01 May 2012 19:57:42 +0000

Wendy and I are at some sort of holiday event, at someone’s house, like an important family dinner or something. There are people I don’t know there, but somehow I’ve the impression that we’re supposed to think of them as our family. The room is dimly but warmly lit. Off to one side of the dining table I can see closed greenish gold window curtains made of some thick fabric, the bottom edge sits lightly on a beige carpet. One of the other house guests, or possibly a person who lives wherever we are, lounges in an old dingy green recliner chair. They have a greasy combover hair cut, as if trying to hide going bald, they are wearing a sky blue button shirt with the collar unfastened so you can see they have a white under-shirt on as well, and rudimentary black framed eye-glasses,. They’re watching TV, but its some old style TV, like the ones they used to make in the 70′s where the glass tube-screen is placed inside some decorative wooden cabinet with ornate beveling and such. I can’t make out whats on the TV, its sort of blurry, I can just tell that its all faded colors. I’ve been handed this very large key chain like object, and on this are a bunch greeting cards, maybe 50 various designs, that have punched holes in each corner so they can be attached to the key chain, but they too are oversized. Someone that I can’t quite make out is telling me that these are cards for Wendy that I should read, all from her estranged sister. As I’m trying to sift through them to read some of it, I notice that there are parts that are personal handwritten sections, while other sections are what you’d expect to see, pre-written designed sentiments from the card manufacturer. In the pre-written sections there are little hand written personal notes in the margins or between lines of type. I can’t really see what the words say, but do somehow know that the personal hand written bits are annotations to the manufacturer designed sentiments, as if remarking on the content of what these segments are saying. None of this feels like a happy time.

Time and space shift. Now Wendy and I find ourselves in some huge metropolitan city. We’re panicked and on the run. The streets are grimy and everything has this blue grey hue to it all. Suddenly we’re confronted, captured, by these soldiers wearing military uniforms that remind of old nazi uniforms, but these are steel blue in color with a simple black stripe on the side of one arm sleeve. The soldiers are armed with rifles and machine guns. I’ve been placed in a very small room, that almost feels like the inside of a small RV. I’m sitting in a chair, like a nice office chair, and Wendy isn’t here. Across from me in another more cushy brown chair sits another man with short dark hair and wearing a simple white buttoned shirt with dark brown suit slacks. He is completely calm and has a clipboard and pen in his hands. I suddenly stand up having moved slightly closer to this man, looking down at him. I notice that next to him is a very tiny window, with dark brown wooden window blinds that are closed. Even though I’m posturing over him slightly, the man is completely calm as he looks up at me.

He says, “I’m sorry but we have to do this. We are going to have to inject you.” And then he’s holding a syringe filled with some sort of dark yellow-gold liquid. He calmly continues to speak, “You’re going to die very slowly. But it will look as if you’ve had a heart attack.”

I then lash out, I have some heavy object in my hand, like a brick or something, and smash the man in the face with it. He barely reacts, remains completely calm. I crack his head again with my found weapon. He remains unaffected, so I keep hitting, striking again and again. Still no reaction or really any sign of harming him either, he is utterly calm. But I notice something strange. At the top of his head there is what looks like a seam, slightly split open, and I can see what almost looks like a metallic fastener of some kind. I hit him again with as much force as I can muster. This time his face falls away like a hard-shell mask, revealing another face underneath. I’m startled by this, I step back a bit, and this man, or I thought was a man, remains calm. This other newly revealed face has the same features as the one I knocked away but appears to be made of semi-clear plastic, sort of milky in color. I can see vague indication of metal through this. But also, from the angle I’m now looking at this thing, I can slightly see the side of his face area near his hair line. There are layers of maybe 7 to 8 deep, side by side layers. Indicating in my mind that each layer is another face, that I could knock this new plastic face off and it would reveal yet another. I could repeat this bludgeoning over and over, revealing face after face.

I stare at this thing in front of me feeling dumbfounded and terrified. Its then I realize that someone else is in the room as well. To my right sits another man, in another cushy brown chair. But this man is unshaven, wearing all dingy black, slightly dirty. His medium length brown hair has a disheveled look. His hands are stained with dirt and lay passively on the chair’s arm rests. He hasn’t been able to shower in quite sometime. It also seems like he too is a captive. He’s not really looking at me though, but rather more looking in the direction of the fake man I’ve attacked, who still remains completely calm and not speaking. This other captive is almost solemn, as if resigned to his fate.

He says in a very flat voice, “Look, there is nothing any of us can do against them. Attacking them does no good, because they can keep reinventing themselves. They’re not even alive, they’re machines. You can’t stop this from happening.”

I stand there in the middle of the small room, suddenly feeling very defeated. A wave of futility washes over me.

Sleeping Visions From Another Dimension 4
May 1st 2012

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jhw3 — Tue, 01 May 2012 04:58:47 +0000

I’ve been dreading and overheating, mostly due to panic and worry over story details. Coming up with ideas that seem cool, but when it comes to thinking them through as things progress, it becomes a matter of isolating what actually works or doesn’t. There are so many variables, sometimes the simplest choices affect the bigger idea in ways either profoundly beneficial or not so much. There is never enough room to convey every detail wanted. So then it becomes a bit of a turmoil over what stays or goes without feeling like something important or of a weight is sacrificed. Causing the plan to be shortchanged in unwanted ways. This also gets really nerve-racking when trying out different things, experiments, because you never know how effective something is until the final product. So sometimes it feels like flying a little blind. But I suppose doing anything creative is like that to some degree, even if certain, that doesn’t mean anyone else will be certain over the choices made. But the trick to being a creative person is to never stop trying new things or ideas. Even if something didn’t work as hoped, it does not invalidate the doing of it. Its always better to have reached for something outside the box than to keep the lid on.

Reconciling With Steady Imagination
April 30th 2012

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jhw3 — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 04:35:22 +0000

Rounded chrome pressed flatly, and usually trusted to perform as expected. But no! We get skipping and flittering in aggravated blips of blocky looking bands of static green and white malfunction. Sticking the features frozen in time, with slight waving vibrations giving distortion halos to the points of interest, provoking a perturbed atmosphere on this leisurely warm afternoon. I was all prepared to kick my feet up to enjoy a particular piece of entertainment. Not in the cards I guess. Bummed and inwardly, a private little tantrum built of my own momentary immaturity. I suppose my inner child was let down today, but acts as a good cause for self deprecation and levity. Well, piss!

Stupid DVD Defect!
April 29th 2012

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jhw3 — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 06:31:03 +0000

Kicked up dust flooding my nasal passage, and my throat feels murky. Sifting through too many boxes piled up, of stuff easily forgotten about. All nice little hidey hole canyons for scurrying critters, home for pests and spiders in the dark nooks and crannies. Chuffed and annoyed, but we’ve got to drudge through it. Left too long, one of those things that is always intended to get done, but never seems to happen until we can’t stand it anymore. Only seems to be dealt with about once a year, pretty lame. Its amazing how much stuff stacks up when tossed to the side to be decided on later. Some of it keen family items with half faded unwanted memories attached, while the others we are hard pressed to remember why they were saved at all. Bewildered how much musty dust, grimy cobwebs, and dried old leaves accumulate, but causing disappointment to realize just how bad it was allowed to be when sweeping up. Makes me feel lazy and gray. Swooshing the broom, unhealthy plumes wafting into the air, trying to avoid breathing any of it in.

Fluffing The Garage
April 28th 2012

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jhw3 — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 20:57:37 +0000

Bleary eyed and beyond overextended. Burning at both ends, the candle has almost melted away into nothing. The dripping wax evaporates into wisps of intangibility, and my mind goes with it all. So focused on the task in front of me I let the clock pass me in the race. My eyes are numb. I finally look up, the bright glorious sun awakening the day. Oh hell, I’ve been it all night, sleepy time…

Sighhh…ZzzzzzzzSnortZzzzzSnrtzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz………Snrrmmhh…stretch

It’s now afternoon as I stumble into the office, yawning from grogginess, sit down in the old creaking purple chair, and realize something is missing, this blog from yesterday…

Slipping Away In Forgetfulness
April 27th 2012

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jhw3 — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 04:45:18 +0000

Spilled upon rudely, the complexion of them both is blotched and stained. There is a complaining creak when either pivots or shifts from side to side, sounding weary of seemingly never-ending duty. Companions through thick and thin, with worn patches of cloth, their skin, that reveal spongy squishy innards. Ripped holes and sinewy like strands that crisscross on these inflictions. Their bodies are only thin lengths of steel, and very rarely paid attention to. Each of them use five legs, extending outward in the shape of a pentacle, an appropriate shape when considering they protect against slipping or tipping. They’ve seen so many vivid things, and witness to light or heavy hearted conversations. Quietly listening to decisions made with ease of mind, or occasionally bursts of frustration. Some things were joyous, while others probably shouldn’t be mentioned in polite company. But overall they share in leading a mundane existence. Remaining always vigilant at their stations, ready to be called up for steady action of numerous variety at a moments notice. Their job is to only provide support, such a simple task really, and so they sit in this without any pride or arrogance. They just simply are, but with the occasional lamenting creak.

The Simple Story Of The Purple Chairs
April 26th 2012