Sunday was all about staying in bed and trying to kick cold…. a lot of catching up on lost sleep. For a couple of months I’ve been waking up at ungodly hours to heed the whisper of the Muse and blog and draw, ect. Candle burning at both ends and middle makes jack a dull boy with bad cold. In this sleep I suffered strange art anxiety dreams… I think I was thinking of the Morrisey song: “We hate it when our friends become successful…” In my dream some friend was making really great pictures and sort of blowing up large. Now the nice thing is, it was a dream and I remember how he made the pictures… I think I was living in some strange version of Providence…
These are really drawings of Willougby snoring before getting up….
