A diary written in paint.

I was out one night with friends in Pilsen. We had just finished an evening pottery class and we went for a drink near Thalia Hall. In front of the venue was promotional truck with a crowd of people around it. Sharpie was launching its newest line of acrylic paint pens and we were smack-dab in the middle of a giveaway event. A brand rep walked up to us and offered free samples. Like a kid in a candy store I accepted as many as I could, I mean they had brush tips!

This moment reignited my obsession with acrylic paint pens. The application of the paint and the internal rhythm of it all hit the spot. I found myself lost in this world for hours at a time. This became my therapy, my release, my diary, and my dog's worse nightmare. He'd startle me out of my trance with barks at my feet or unwelcome licking followed by an inquisitive head tilt. "Where did you go?"

Well, bub, I went here, into layers and layers of colorfully intertwined mind bends and vibrant chaos.