helmets with horns

yeah,
so, the 'poetic edda' is pretty much the furiously flamboyant fuego.
its unbelievably good stuff.
and the sagas of the icelanders? yeah, those dudes are hard.
rock hard.

reading and drawing are time consuming activities, for sure.
taking in information, putting out pen and ink.
i got some fancy frames, prefab, and pre-matted, yesteday. (on sale, son.)
the plan is to fill each and every one, 
and have some hot hot heat to show off this summer.
honestly, (between us) the idea of precut matting and existent formats is a little frustrating to me.
mostly because i feel like i'm confined to trying to excel only within the tiny inflexible parameters of the area.
some of the mat-holes are pretty tiny. so the mini-microns are definitely going to be used.
.005mm. that's a teeny caliber for shooting art out with. but i'm on it.
 
these jammies look like the prows of viking longships. on the real, though, there is nature happening at breakneck springtime sprinter's pace. so much, so quick. i like it.
viking helmets didn't have horns.
but rennaissance knights did.
i know this because i am looking at them right now;
4,424, thats the # of heraldic designs i got in a great book on crests.
holy smokes, they really liked to make it complicated.
i've never seen more weird goats and boars holding stuff,
with armored hands holding other stuff, and all of it with wings...and let's not forget the lions...
and pineapples.
they wore a lot of really insane stuff on their helmets. like antlers, surrounding a giant turnip!
i'm serious. they didn't just use little checkers and chevrons for very long.
eventually, it was like a custom car show, except the pimpin' came off in 50 lb. headgear.
almost completely unnecessary, but also completely over-the-top fresh.
of course, that is to say, i am inspired by all of it, so even more medieval mayhem is more than likely gonna get got. (that's 'hood talk, ya'll)
if you see me in a fleur-de-lys gold lame' cloak, with ermine trim, and a helmet with a
dog wearing a moose-skin holding an arm holding a boar's head spitting out acorns,
then just keep walking, ya'll. its probably best we don't make a big deal out of it.

tonight is a night for rainy late-night lanterns. 
tomorrow night is a night for Narnian talking animal battles.
i have a lot of ideas, and not enough time, or hands.
and i'm pretty much spread out kinda thin right now.
let's hope that i stew up some serious sauce, and pour on the productivity before the
fire fizzles out.  
its a horrible feeling having a hard hot heavy heap of hottness in your head that doesn't end up going anywhere.

bang your drums.
but don't march to any beats, different or otherwise.
walk, dance, or run. saunter or swagger, but don't march.
berserker battle-beasts don't need to file in, or form ranks.
we make the music, we write the words, and we sing the songs.
never quiet, never soft.
we make moves, we make love, and we live lives worthy of our friendships.
marching is the mark of those who obey.
we rewrite rulebooks based on merit, not obedience.
welcome to the weak-sauce-free zone.
the path we walk is a lava flow.
rule#1: just be dope.
rule #2: see rule #1.
word up.