Pencils for Death

Have been working extensively and vivaciously on the Texas Death project. After half-a-day yesterday of fumbling wtih the foreground to the forefront of frustration (see what I did there), I settled on a nonchalant, imposing fixture. I'm about ready to tackle the atmsohpere. 

Must keep blasting music.

Insufficiently, while taking a snack break, enjoying a ham sandwich, I happened to witness a rogue male hippopotamus get castrated. I chuckled at the situation. Life is just too funny.

Could've gotten further along with Texas Death if I hadn't blundered by losing my last twist-pencil. I absolutely love sketching with those things, their leads are just slightly thicker than a click-pencil, and they're fantastic to scratch your ears with. After today's work I was exhausted, but the caffeine injections of Code Red and Dr. Pepper from earlier were still working their abusive, bowel disrupting magic. I wasn't nearly in any sleeping mood and any trying attempt would have only wasted time. Instead, I went for a walk to get some groceries. This would have been around half-past-midnight; I returned shortly after one. The journey was ghostly and serene, cars in single sets drove past me on their way to where people desired them, and others to places where they desired a certain person; to place where they should have been, and others to a place where they have no business being. Such is the human condition. Either way people were going to awaken with new diseases the next day.

The greatest surprise was that punk-rock-girl was working tonight. I had not seen in her many months, her hair still fashioned in a black-length, white-bangs style tied back in a ponytail that completed the cuteness of her overall appearence while her eyes, as sweet as her look, but they told the truth. She is one tough soul.

Quite the attractive feature.

Unfortunately, I found no more twist-pencils. Luckily, after returning home I discoverd my lost one beneath a clutter of unpacked tools and other household objects that can force someone to scream.

Back to Texas Death, a temporary coma, and then training. Keep blasting music.