One of the side effects of an adult life spent working in graphic design is a bizarre fondness for designing logos and promotional material for utterly ridiculous things.

What is essential is invisible to the eye.

A contract is signed, and the fate of a prisoner revealed.

I’m unhealthy but it’s not like I’m a terrible person. Do I have to spend the rest of my life alone?

Sects is back up! I suppose I should provide some kind of explanation for this tentacled baby now squalling upon your birthing mat; it’s been long enough since I conceived it.

There has been new art, because I got a new brush-pen I’m in love with.

Why does it feel so horrible when you’re criticized?

A case study of the narcissistic relationship grid, in poem form.

Art dump and musings on Dura-lar drawing.

Check it out - a real live human asked me personally a question!

I've had problems with disassociation and life not feeling real ever since I can remember.

So we're currently at the ignoble stage where, in order to have anything to talk about, I'm appropriating questions from real columnists…

what we found in the wreckage…

what was consumed…

what was lost…

what was spared…