Old. Town. Roads.

They say its’s never good to live in the past. But ever once in a while a stroll down the path that is memory lane can be of a service. If not for the boost of the ego in personal growth, but for the health of a good laugh.

The artist looking over the shoulder at past endeavors can be, at least for myself, cringe-worthy. Usually taking a turn down the filthy alley of mistake laden creations just stirs the emotions, “what have I done?!” Like old Doc Frankenstein when the first realization slaps him cold on the chops. That the fruits of his labors have given life to an abomination. A modern Prometheus that looks like it just crawled out of a dumpster fire, fell through a meat grinder, and smoldered on a Texas sidewalk on a mid July nooner.

What I’m saying is I don’t much care for my past workings.

The ideas always seem sound up until staring into the hairy eyeballs of whats on the paper. But with most artistic debauchery there is always a few that aren’t too bad. Diamonds in the rough. Filthy diamonds you wouldn’t propose with, or fools-gold coins. Let us take a stroll down my “ old town road.”

The pain… my eyes… my brain… melting. That Creature still holds up nicely, if I do say so. And I’m not as mad at the Samurai School Girl as I thought I would be. Laughing, internally laughing heartily at myself.

You gotta start somewhere’s. (My student work will never see the light of day)

Gnar the reflective Pig