Feels like the acrylic ink and/or fountain pen ink infused in clear elmer’s glue phase is fading, I desperately need to resupply and can’t be bothered to buy when four months ago they’d have been bought week’s ago, too many niggling demoralizing metaphors nagging, the above now glued back-to-back and in the paper press to bond with this below, the end product my son-in-law’s giftmas present
Canary
Whethervain
Slothrop
Fool
Before I forget to archive, I often do when post hexjeffs there before here. Both are currently in a crank paper press while the glue that binds them cures
I currently only use pencil in writing tablet but for years I used fountain pens, it took years to transition and will soon be illegal in America and punishable by death.
I threw away all my fountain pen ink but two, the two I thought could but couldn’t save the pens, Ive emptied the bottle I had of each into a squeeze bottle and infused them in clear elmers glue and stirred for fifteen minutes then upside-downed squeeze bottle then hourglassed it the other way, they don’t stain fingers like when no glue, both in the above, the brown and beloved noxzema bottle blue
See post title. Above much smaller than real life, to see it bigger, if not full size, and read words and see another click HERE
Bigger, better here. If you’ve bookmarked here please bookmark there, as soon as I figure out how to export here to there here is going away next time wordpress asks me for money, I have about six months to figure out exporting. In meantime, what’s here will also be there and there will be things there that won’t be here
Doesn’t exist as was above anymore. After debate, thankfully won by Fuck It (more often than not by lots Fuck It loses in many aspects of my life, many of those many loses valuable loss leaders in real life), I peeled off the yellow and blue masking tape though I thought this a good chapter one, much promise
Now that above the new above doesn’t exist does the pdf of what once existed count as an object now that no one can (not that anyone would) hold it, spin it, get fountain pen ink on the tips of fingers when you hold the edges to spin and flip over, and though you might see (but never hold, spin, get ink on your fingers) what I will glue to the back of the object that remains, *that* object will have no paste relationship to the above that no longer exists though it’s glued to what it was, yes or no, answer me, me
As for what remains on excellent cold press watercolor paper whose superior pigment absorption via rendered slaughtered horses’ hooves Fuck It if I fuck it up Fuck It if call it quits Fuck It does this poem exist, fuck yes
Just reminded that Arches Watercolor Paper, cold press used above on something abandoned last night before I fuck it up, uses gelatin from slaughtered horses to create the retained brilliance of pigments (especially white) more after drying than cheaper watercolor paper, in protest I won’t buy anymore tonight!
Outside now twenty degrees, single-digit windchill and the ground covered in ice and snow and I’m wearing leather shoes and I won’t eat Arches Watercolor Paper, I can slough into my closet of constantly revised and updated My Sillyass Deserted Island Five Game of infamies in the history of my complicities, That should be my epitaph, says Km’pec, drinking his poisoned blood wine
Fountain pen ink (except for the white eye), expensive from when I diddled fountain pens, I’ve stopped, fine metaphors abound, might as well spill it on watercolor blocks
Front half of L’s birthday card, the other side you won’t see though though you may see what I did and especially liked in the back half of L’s birthday card I won’t show you in an upcoming hexjeff that I will forget I wanted to do and rediscover in six months from now and think that it’s new
First self-portrait of 2024, state of mind starting the year, not completely on fire yet. Gouache, watercolor ink, acrylic ink, fountain pen ink. clear elmer’s glue. Will compare to first of 2025 if world (probably, or at least the earth) and me (possibly) are still here then
This getting old shit
inexorably expands
into whatever
fun is left first. Knees
Look at the word knees ten
minutes, you wonder
why we’re phucked? Knever
ktrust kanyone kook kenough
kto kignore kankles
A vomit is an extreme burp
I once consoled Billy Wayne
busy extreme burping on my shoe
I need to start a new elephant
note page for March but was
afraid I’d forget this poem’s first
sentence formatting another
month in a platform I’d rather
paint bricks than use. No
abacuses were used in the how
old are you Jeff the gimmick
rictus of this poem. I’m growing
pjoepf Of vriecyh 