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this morning, i finished The Wood Wife by Terri Windling. it was recommended to me by muse, who received it from pixelpusher. two of my favorite people, so how could i resist. i was crying at the end of the story, not so much for the characters as for myself. when i first moved to tucson, the desert took me in, enveloped me in its fragile-but-hostile arms, and gave me new life. after i moved to phoenix in 1992 that infusion was slowly sterilized. unlike pix, i was unable to reach beyond the obliteration of the true desert that phoenix is to see the life beyond and beneath. now i am back in tucson, and i long for that connection again. like a desert plant which has died back to the roots during a drought, i can feel new shoots pushing into my soul. i give the gift of my tears to the desert.*



*thanks to Frank Herbert for this concept

hey spot!

my friends are so cool. low_delta just sent me some old machinery catalogs from the 30's. back then, all illustrations were done by hand. this ordinary catalog is chock full of spectacularly detailed etchings of machinery which no longer exists. the technical ability of the artist is outstanding. besides, a "bung hole borer"? *snicker*

thanks kevin!

oh, a cd too! more on that after i hear it :)

and your painting will be on the way shortly.

digital manipulation of a closeup of an old painting

i have reached a point in my life where time is more important to me than money