The wolverine painting went on hold. My obssesive tendencies were getting more scary than usual, and the fact that A) I can’t quite make the acrylic do what I want is exasperated by the fact that B) even if I knew exactly what I wanted it to do, I couldn’t do it while balancing a four foot tall hunk of masonite on my thighs and the edge of the stereo. I will attempt it again either a bit later, or after I move and have actual space. (And maybe lighting. God! What would THAT be like?!)

Infuriated by this, and vowing to do something realistic At Any Cost, I went a bit loony, drank a whole crapload of Coke, and seven Painterific hours of frenzied digital painting later, voila! Sanity? I don’t need no stinkin’ sanity! I feel better. Exhausted, but better. Every now and then I have to do something realistic to sort’ve vindicate myself to…err…myself, I suppose. I may have to do a few more. At the very least, I can sell prints, and failing that (given the not-overwhelming demand for wombatkind) at least now there is one more anthro wombat painting in the world. Vombatus ursinus forever!

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