waxing into werewolves.

ouch.

ouch ouch ouch.

my hands are killing me.

yep.

that's real.

i work too much.

i know i do.

i know it's true.

i am all too aware of the hostile and heavy environment

that's slowly crippling my crinkly, creaking fingers.

ugh.

however,

i've become somewhat fixated on becoming more expert,

and transforming myself into a harder-styled, stylish, 

and stylistically synergistic harder worker.

yup.

i know i can do even more.

and i will.

the studio is open weirder, and worse hours,

and, since this new extended-operations-style plan was to open earlier, 

and to stay open later,

just so that that A*-hole albie rock wouldn't monopolize all the tattoos every day,

whereby and therefore, the other other ones;

as in- those mincey no-show do-nuthin' diaperbabies that also tattoo sometimes, 

would all get a chance to prove their usefulness, and improve their profitability.

naturally, after a month of this sh!t-hot mess of early morning ruination,

and late night lengthening into the darker and deeper doldrums of doo-doo butter,

the only mutha-F*ing warrior poet in the place,

and the solitary actual work-ethic motivated monster of movie check generating,

which is really another way to say- 

me;

just happens to be the only duder who didn't take this week OFF, 

and the only one who has been booked up on both ends of the sh!t-salad schedule.

c'mon.

what'd you think was gonna happen?

full moon fury is fueling my ferocious furnace,

and seasonal changes are transforming my already molto fresh, 

impossibly impenetrable loudness into a diamond-hard style of activation.

i'm serious.

i'm riding the temporal shift, and the skies, right into a manic masterpiece of

non-stop ragnarok'ing rip-and-tear terrorism-

and in the moments when i'm not inflicting my decrees,

and enacting my edicts on the folks who've come to purchase and endure 

all that we have to offer,

i'm sitting down to paint and draw, 

and fill up all the spare minutes with more making of things.   

neighbors,

early to work, and later than late to home, 

makes werewolfen lunacy leak, leach, and lurch from my pores and my pupils

out into the woodsly goodness and the atmospheric adjustments of that kind

of animorphic activation are immediate and immoderate.

dang.

that means berserker barbarian battle-beastliness precedes and ensues 

throughout these long weekends of taxing and terrible tattoo triathleticism.

also,

i had an hour and a half to do nothing yesterday,

so i made this:

mmhmm.

more skulls, 

more eyes, 

more teeth.

yeah. 

you know it.

that's my seltzer-box subject matter,

and that's what happens in the available timeframe. 

instead of sittin' around resting my sore spidery spindlestick fingerbones,

and taking a minute to take it a bit easy.

i'm taking it up a notch,

and working on developing the necessary muscle-memory motor-skills needed

to summon the kindred and/or unkind spirits of arthur-making artitude.

prestidigitative paws and claws are where i'm werewolfing my animal instincts.

i think that's a real thing.

if not, i'll keep at it until it is.

i will fashion a world of my own making,

or become unmade in the attempt.

there isn't room for anything else;

never quiet, never soft.....