Henry Was Here
Music Stories Photos Mechanics Boozes Lions
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Monday, May 5, 2014
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Ink Drawings, Digital Art and Watercolors
Some of my art.
Digital Drawing, Wacom pen |
Office Ink Pen/Wacom Pen - office paper |
Photo/Wacom Pen/Pumpkin Carving |
Calligraphy Ink on Paper - 11x14 |
Wacom pen |
Wacom Pen/Olympics Inspiration |
Wacom Pen/Olympics Inspiration |
Mouse Drawing Corel Draw |
Ink and watercolor on watercolor paper 8x10 |
Ink and watercolor on watercolor paper 4x5 |
Wacom Pen Drawing |
Wacom Pen drawing |
Ball point pen on 8 1/2x 11 stationery |
Wacom Pen Drawing |
Wacom Pen drawing |
Photograph and Wacom pen drawing |
Ink drawing on tiny notebook |
Ink drawing on drawing paper |
Ink drawing on drawing paper |
Wacom pen drawing |
Ink and watercolor pencil on watercolor paper |
Wacom pen drawing |
Corel Draw with Wacom Pen |
Ink and watercolor pencil on watercolor paper |
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Hemingway
The other day, a palm reader in New
Jersey Maryland told me that I was Ernest Hemingway in my past life. Of course I’m
sitting there thinking, that’s crazy – Hemingway wouldn’t be caught dead
getting his palms read.
When I got back to the hotel, I
couldn’t put it out of my mind – not about the past life
information – but about Hemingway. So I had a drink. And then
another. And then I wrote something about how I feel and then I deleted the
entire thing.
I don’t know if I believe in past
lives, but how can you ignore the silly idea that we all seem to be someone
famous in a past life? What if I was Hemingway’s cat Willie, the one he had to
shoot to put out of its misery because of two broken legs. Maybe I was one of
his emo love letters, tossed into a fireplace and burned to hell by the jealous
new boyfriend of an old flame.
I guess I should just be glad she
didn’t say I was F. Scott Fitzgerald.
“Never mistake motion for action”
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“I’m not brave any more darling. I’m all broken. They’ve broken me.”
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“She
doesn’t love me Bill,” he wrote to Bill Horne. “She takes it all back . . . Oh Bill
I can’t kid about it and I can’t be bitter because I’m just smashed by it.”
"Write hard and clear about what hurts."
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"You know it makes one feel rather good deciding not to be
a bitch."
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"“You can hurt most
awfully—’cause my loving you is a chink
in the armour of telling the world to go to
hell and you can thrust a sword into it at any time."
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"Beloved Papa, I
think it is high time to tell you that I think of you constantly. I read your
letters over and over and speak of you with a few chosen men. I have moved your
photograph to my bedroom and mostly look at it rather helplessly."
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