Sharpening my socks

The great poet Pablo Neruda once wrote the most sublime love poem for his SOCKS. For the uninitiated, it is a poem that celebrates the power of mundane things we take for granted until their need becomes an imperative...and here we are.

I got a package in the mail today that had "DO NOT OPEN UNTIL YOUR BDAY" on the outside of package. Now dear reader I am an aries which is sanskrit for IMPATIENT AF. The individual who send this package KNOWS this and was practically daring me to ignore the stated directive...and here we are.

In my own defense the package "slipped" off the table and the sheer velocity of the fall ripped open three layers of tape and the container item was packaged in...and HERE WE ARE. Behold the majesty and glory of the worlds most certifiably unhinged pencil sharpener. Much like Nerudas infamous socks I never really fully appreciated the possibilities of a pencil sharpener until this one was literally staring me in the face. I cannot stop laughing

I think her name is Sadie and she is a Living Dead Doll

Bukowski said that if you are going to sharpen a pencil go all the way or else don't even start...and here we are.  And I haven't even gotten to the best part.

She has the same feeling about pencil shavings that I do about okra, brussels sprouts and politics. She spits them out in utter disgust. If you needed a measuring stick for how to win the day. This is it. Sadie is the greatest addition to my art and I will treasure her wild wicked weirdness forever.