The Birth of Feeling

Full moon lunacy carryover. My rooftop recharge seems to have done wonders. Today was a surprise day off from my work with Le Poulet. Love those. I slept in, woke to Steve's 500 pound Ad Hoc cookbook at the foot of my bed. How did it land there? Read in bed.

Nothing beats reading a cookbook in bed at noon on a Lundi.

Ran about town, cruised on Jess, drank some coffee and then got to WORK.

Introducing The Belly to the Sea House project. Whatever the heck that is. I get images stuck in my head sometimes (when I'm lucky), and it always feels good to follow through and put the project to bed. Fred.

One million start-of-somethings. Story of my life.

Trace negative space to your heart's content. Xacto that shit. Stain digits, who cares? Apron, always. 

Stencil away. Simple. Montreal; Aug 2011.

Also, it must be said that the photograph pictured below is one of my favorite pictures ever, of all time.

Rags, I swiped it from your Flickr without permission. Sorry, it's too damn good. And thank you. Those are my sister's elbows, stamped same as my own two hands. Eating cake at Rollin's second birthday party at the park. So sorry to have missed that!

Photo by the talented Andrea McLaren, my friend.