I’m trying to get away from the sodomy discussion, on the principle that someone entering “anal sex, fisting, fish slap” into a search engine might now be directed to my journal, and I just don’t think I’m ready for that kind of traffic.

Lost a big file yesterday, in the way that I had not lost a file for five years–discovered to my horror that when I cropped and shrank the thing down to jpg size to send a sample to the client, I had accidentally saved over my master file. And I had done it three days ago, so there was no retrieving it from the innards of the machine. I walked around the apartment for awhile cursing my stupidity, the cruel universe that would allow this, and the art gods in general. (It was a book cover, too. *sob*) Then I sat down and re-did about four hours of work, because–well, you gotta. *sigh*

Then I had a nightmare that I had blowfly larvae under my skin. This is a recurring nightmare, I think because I find the notion so damn revolting, and way back in the day, one of my iaido senseis told me the most wrenchingly vivid description ever of what it’s like. The weird bit was that when I removed them, they had fortunes wrapped around them, like fortune cookies. Some days, I’d just like to sit my subconscious down and give it a good talking to…

New art! Been working on this one of preening macaws for probably a week and a half now. I saw them at the zoo, and they were gorgeous and ruffled and looked rather haughty and stoned, which I’m told is the expression generally worn by a preening macaw. It was…well, not actually fun, now that I think of it, but I feel better for having slaved over all those feathers. I no longer fear painting the feather, mammal though I be.
The Marine Crested Snogwoggler, best known for its haunting banjo solos. I think. (Look, I don’t know where I get these ideas.)

And now, I’m gonna go paint frog udders.

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