Things have been a little bit crazy

I went out to these Vietnamese coffee shops in San Jose with a few friends today. It was a poor excuse just to ogle women in skimpy outfits while we sipped on overpriced iced coffees. The first two places were pretty miserable. The overall vibe was pretty creepy. All the other customers were in the late 30s or 40s and by customers I mean creepy old dudes. None of the waitresses would even make eye contact or say hi. They merely took our orders and sashayed away, the flaws on their skin covered by the neon lights and blaring music.

It was okay I suppose, I definitely got quite a bit done. Things have been a little bit crazy. Just in the past week I've gotten my postcards, framed my paintings, had them shot. And here I was in the dingy Vietnamese coffee shops drawing little personalized doodles on my postcards for clients and fans. It's been really busy and I haven't really been able to sleep much lately. Women are starting to warm up to me again and it's nice to revel myself a little bit in that attention.

I'm starting to get pretty burnt out. I called Jode earlier to just talk about things and she told me to take a few days off. My life's been pretty crazy lately and I kind of like it this way. I don't think I'll be taking any days off. I'd be all anxious just being away from the studio.

I went out to an art show on Friday which featured typewriter inspired art with a live set from the artist made of sounds from a typewriter. I wanted to throw up thirty times in my mouth. 

 After the shitty art show I met up with some friends at a lounge downtown which a buddy co owns. We hung out down in the basement and I felt like a goddamn gangster.

 Saturday morning I went to go pick up ammunition at the gun show at the cow palace since there's a massive shortage. It was a nightmare. The line for wholesale ammunition was 5 hours long. I just went and bought retail like a chump.














I also got Zilla some new bandanas from the gun show. He is one handsome mother fucker














Whenever I post pictures of Zilla on Instagram or Twittter of Zilla, he'll always get way more attention than for any other shit I do.

Today I spent the whole day in Vietnamese coffee shops. I drew on my postcards and am shipping them out to fans and clients.

My friend Jenny is trying to launch a company that sells rolling papers which will allows you to custom print images. She told me to shoot her some drawings of dogs and bunnies.

We went to three cafes today and at the last one I made some pretty bad sketches of the waitress and she came by and said "you made my butt look cute."

Personally I just enjoyed the free modeling session.

I left the sketch with my website on the table.

I get a message on my website about 20 minutes after I leave.

She left her number.


My first solo show open May 4th from 6-11 at Book and Job Gallery on 838 Geary Street.

I hope to see all your beautiful faces there.

love,

d

On the Lam - Vancouver

We had been on a bender for a few days and I wasn't necessarily feeling all too good. We were sitting at a bar, the Cambie, in Gastown and watching the Canucks game. We tried to scalp tickets earlier during the night, but the idea of spending $100 plus on some game I could give less of a shit about was outrageous. We had an entire pitcher of Granville Pale Ale in front of us. I was feeling a little depressed and my stomach felt like shit, but I put on a good face. I was traveling with a mate in Vancouver for the holidays and didn't want to spoil the weekend.

The crowd was young and lively and I scanned the room from one pretty face to another, but all I could think about was my ex girlfriend. My mind wandered and I thought about her with another man and I tried to take a sip of beer, but was afraid it might make me sick. Our waitress came over and asked if we wanted to order anything from the kitchen. She was slim with a tan complexion. She wore a black tshirt and jeans, and had eyes like a cat.

She took our orders and left.

"What do you think she is?" Benson asked.

"I was thinking hapa of some sort."

"She looks almost Indian."

We made small trivial talk and watched the girls sipping their beers.

The waitress came back and I asked where she was from.  Her parents were both Turkish, but she had travelled quite a bit growing up and spoke damn near perfect Mandarin and French. She smiled and was very charming and I was wondering what she was doing waiting tables at a shitty bar like that. We made some more small talk, but I knew she had to get back to work. I asked her name and she said it was Kathy and gave me her hand and I damn near told her I loved her on the spot.

After that I didn't feel so bad anymore so we ordered some shots. I went outside for a smoke and got a tip from a bum that a man in a black hoodie was selling bud if I was interested.

"Yeah, how will I know who he is?"

"You'll see him dealing to the kids."

"Aright, thanks man appreciate it."

"How about a few bucks?" I handed him a $2 coin, I tend to get pretty loose with foreign currency.

"You can't spare some more? Don't you have a five?"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me" I replied while walking away, looking for a man in a black hoodie. They were everywhere. I finally found him palming off dime sacks to hostel kids. He was about 40, well built and looked like he had been in a few scraps in his day. I bought an eighth.

I went back inside the Cambie and shared the good news. We stayed around a bit longer, but it felt like it I was at a college bar. We left abrubtly and I never got to say goodbye to Kathy properly, but she'll always have a place in my heart.

We took a cab over to Yaletown to find out what it was like partying with the rich kids. We went to a few bars, but really they were forgettable. We were throwing back whiskey sodas like our lives depended on it. I had a nice buzz going but felt underdressed and under classed everywhere I went.

The posh bars were littered with beautiful girls who's daddies had deep pockets or beautiful girls who were looking for a daddy with deep pockets. I could support neither and my paint splattered clothes were not really doing me any favors. They took took one look at me and assumed I was from the working class. They were wrong, I made less money.

Benson made friends with the bartenders and we got a few rounds on the house. I walked into the bathroom and rolled a few pinners. I went outside for a smoke and watched the couples walk by huddled together to fight the cold. The bud was pretty good and not very expensive like everything else in Vancouver.

I went back inside and Benson was best friends with everyone. The bartender poured us another round and took one with us. Two guys sitting next to Benson  invited us to a club down the street. I looked at my watch and it read 1am.

"Isn't closing time at 2am?" I asked.

"Yeah," one of them replied, "but this place is open til 4 and there's beautiful women.

No need for further elaboration.

We walked and bullshitted and I tried not to throw up. One of the two guys, Raymond, was a big, portly fellow and knew everyone at the door. They let us in without checking IDs.

Raymond ordered us another round and I just held it for awhile.

Raymond saw some more of his friends and introduced me and Benson to two Indian girls. One was short with curly hair and the other was tall with her haired pinned up, they both had on black cocktail dresses.

I didn't remember their names. I bought them some drinks, they bought us drinks, Raymond bought some more drinks. A lot of the in-between is blurred. We left a little after that. I don't remember what happened with Raymond and his friend. We walked down with the two girls and were gonna go grab a bite. The Short curly haired girl was talkative and funny. The Tall girl was a bit shy and started to lag behind, further and further until she was nearly a block away from us.

The curly haired girl looked back and was annoyed.

"What are you doing?" she shouted at the Tall girl. There was no reply. The Tall girl was standing there a block up with her  arms crossed and held her left hand to her face.

The curly haired girl shouted "What are you doing bitch? Let's go!" She turned to me and Benson and said "She always fucking does this. Drama queen."

"Fuck You!" Tall girl shouted.

They went back and forth for a little bit and I decided to walk back to Tall girl to see what the problem was. I walked up and could see that she was sobbing.

"Hey what's wrong?"

"I hate her." She sobbed some more. "You wouldn't understand." She said between sobs. She said some more shit but she both she and I were incoherent so I just shook my head and said that it was going to be okay.

I didn't really know what to do. I didn't even know her name. I looked back at Benson a block away and motioned my hand back and forth across my neck indicating that we were done, I watched him walk across the street to grab a cab.

"Hey listen, I don't know what's wrong, but I hope you guys really work it out."

As I jogged across the street I could still hear them shouting up and down the street. I looked at my watch and it was nearly 4:30.

I hopped in the cab Benson had hailed and we asked if there were any spots that were still open where we could grab a bite. The driver replied in the negative and some words were exchanged and we got kicked out of the cab. We had only gone two blocks, but found another cab quickly.

It was 5 by the time we made it back to the hotel. We polished off the rest of the fifth of Jim Beam we started the night with and toasted the Vancouver sunrise. We were trying to get back home to the states by 1 to watch the niners in the NFC championship. It was going to be a long drive back.