You mean like a scanner like you used to put a picture on so you could put said picture on the internet? They still make those?
I don’t know, it was inherited. I hate techno-crap that takes longer than Michelangelo did in the Sistine Chapel and looks a helluva lot shittier.
Just take a pic of whatever you’re scanning and email the pic to yourself.
You didn’t see the photo tragedy above? More easy to use tech that looks mahvelus.
Looks terrible.
Ever considered a name change to Mr. Obvious?
Twice is a charm.
Earth Art, Albuquerque, NM.
You taking adderal or something?
No. Some other things.
Never should have given away my Polaroid camera. It felt like X-Mas when the photos rolled out and magic as they were revealed. Oh, and these are process photos, not the finished room.
First live model on canvas.
Is that Joker?
No. Joker’s gonna bitch slap 
you for that one, I’m almost certain.
May have to invest in another Polaroid camera. Digitals and their friggin delays is for them birds. Yah, hold that steady for, oh, ten seconds.
Since I’ve been unpacking, loads of random projects are surfacing. Where my screenplays and autobiography are remains a mystery.
1st experiment in Pointillism, imagined.
Rhymes will be the end of me, they’re so horrid but I persist. A love hate thing I guess. This song will never be played. R.I.P.
Blasted lack of ability in drawing! 'Tis painful always losing the battle.
Jakob, so envious of your Grandmother!
Why am I disclosing my efforts? Must be the right time to finally share some of what goes on upstairs, how it wills itself into existence, either that or fate will be killing off my body soon. So many scatterings on numerous hard drives, various other types of equipment, in different mediums. Many left the nest undocumented, gifted to loved ones. Nothing for sale. 
Freely or not at all. 
Art school was painful due to the fact that priceless souls are sold, peddling themselves like street whores. A damn shame that I couldn’t buy into. I’d sooner peddle my flesh, than dreams. Most artists have a backstory shtick for their process, bullshitters that believe their own bullshit, that is their angle, their method of drama covers up their lack of ability.
One of my sculpture professors challenged my inspiration to which I replied my piece met the criteria of the project. He was flabbergasted that I was not inspired at all. He went into attack mode, chastising me for my thumbing my nose at his project. By god, he was offended that a piece the class had positively critiqued for over a half hour meant next to nothing to me beyond my liking the colors, the shapes. It was an epic confrontation when the class turned against him. Was the piece not enough to speak for itself, to its’ audience? They nailed that professor to the cross. Didn’t get me an A, he was beyond change but man, it was glorious.
If this place exists now as I described, let me know, please?