accidental time travel

Have you ever walked into a place that immediately brings you back in time? Where your head spins from how familiar it all is, and the emotion and force of memory is so strong that you temporarily forget exactly what year you're in, how old you are, etc?

This happens to me in the shower.

I used to think this was pure coincidence, but I'm starting to wonder if every unfinished basement in the continental United States (or at least Michigan) is furnished with a build-your-own Durastall shower. Of the last four places I've lived in, three of them have been outfitted with this same plastic shower stall. Same knobs, same no-slip plastic flooring, all made complete with a plain plastic shower curtain chosen by somebody else in the house. Usually white or clear.

So I'll be washing my hair, lost in thought, and when I'm done washing my face, I'll open my eyes to find the exact same corner of the Durastall shower, lit more or less exactly the same as it was in houses previous by harsh, artificial lighting coming through the curtain. And my head is dropped completely, momentarily, into old memories. Is it October of 2006 on the Northeast side? Or, wait, maybe this is July of 2009 on the West side after splitting up with my ex-girlfriend. When all along it's 2012 on the Southeast side.

Not even sure how I feel about this. It's funny how time can loop backward, and I'm able to revisit previous versions of my life if only for the couple seconds it takes for my brain to catch up to reality. There's comfort there. It can be odd, though, having nostalgia creep in so unexpectedly when all I intended to do was get ready to go out for the night.


I think it'd be nice if the next place I live in has a full tub and shower. But if there's an unfinished basement, maybe it should be equipped with a plastic shower stall just to keep the possibility of time travel open.

-beanforest


p.s. the Etsy shop always keeps me pretty busy, but I've been working on some new stuff that's left me with even less free time than usual. If everything goes well in getting it finished, I should have some news to post hopefully in the next week or so. Pretty excited with how things are looking... More info as soon as possible! Updates will be posted on the facebook page.

my thug grimace is bikini-ready

Almost a month since my last post?! I'm not digging this whole time-speeds-by-quicker-than-you-could-possibly-imagine stuff.

Still don't have more than a few minutes to spare, but here are a couple snapshots from the most recent sketchbook.

Thanks for reading,

beanforest

something very special planned

I'm at the coffee shop drawing in my sketchbook (nothing scandalous, I promise), and this gorgeous blonde woman comes up admitting that she was watching me, started asking questions about me, about art, stumbling over her flattery a little, totally adorable, right? Right. I give her my card, introduce myself, she introduces herself (M_____), we shake hands, warm smiles both ways, awesome. Then she goes to the bathroom, comes out a couple minutes later, and walks back over to me. SWEET. I try not to notice, keep it cool, don't blow this, Vincent. She proceeds to tell me how she was Saved three years ago, and that she can just FEEL that Jesus has something very special planned for me, VERY special, and do I have any questions about the Lord? Haha, I suppress the FML smile and kindly reply, "I'm all set, M_____, but thanks so much!"
"You're welcome, and please, anything I can do! I can just feel He has something special planned!"
"Great, nice to meet you, M_____!"
"Nice to meet you, too, Vincent!"

So is it THAT obvious that I'm marked with sin and the eternal sadness made possible only when not touched by the Grace of God? 'Cause I'm generally a pretty upbeat and bright-eyed boy. Or maybe she was just canvasing the neighborhood. If I'm such a sinner that I can be eyeballed from across the room (my clothes are crisp, I'm freshly washed, I have a little scruff, but it's not too frumpy, there should be no indication from my appearance that I'm fallen), I *hope* that it wasn't a simple canvasing. Does sin have a scent that can't be masked by middle-shelf bar soap and Ban Shower Fresh antiperspirant? Please don't let me be just another notch on your Witnessing Belt, M_____! Lie to me, tell me I'm special in some way. That you walked up to me specifically, that I wasn't just ANY contemplative dude scribbling in a sketchbook.

Anyway. Just another Tuesday afternoon, I guess, where I should expect excitement to turn to disappointment in a matter of somebody else's quick use of the restroom.

That said, I will gladly accept any beautiful woman's earnest attempts to save my eternal soul. Disappointment should be expected on their part, but maybe that just makes the exchange fair.

She has my business card, so maybe she's even stumbled across my blog... If you're reading this, M_____, know that you're obviously kind-hearted (I am too; I just don't believe in Jesus the same way you do), sweet, definitely beautiful, and you know how to reach me if you're so inclined to keep trying.

-beanforest

plush and rabid

Characters like this have been populating my sketchbook a lot lately. I don't know what to do with the drawings yet (if they'll become something I polish up, turn into comics, larger artwork, or whatever), but I've been having a TON of fun drawing them. The working title of whatever it becomes is "rabid."

A drunk guy at the bar saw this picture and was convinced my work is demonic. I was kind of surprised to hear this, because my feeling is: how demonic could something really be dressed in a pink bunny suit while wearing inline skates and knee pads? Creepy, ambiguous, ugly, gross, yeah, maybe, but demonic? I don't think anything truly evil would stop to think about protective sporting gear. I tried to explain all of this to him, but he wasn't interested in hearing anything to the contrary. Okay, Sir, return to your pitcher of swill beer and your quaint conviction that the devil lurks behind every stranger's sketchbook you demand to look through. Anyway. So I was going for fun and absurd. Comical outrage and fury coated in soft pastels puts a smile on my face, and hopefully that's communicated in this as well as the other drawings to come.

Hope all's well, and thanks for reading.

beanforest

every hour has its own teeth

I don't remember listening to Tom Waits while drawing this, but seeing it again as I loaded the image to this blog post got Goin Out West stuck in my head. "I don't lose my composure in a high-speed chaaaaaase. My friends think I'm ugly; I got a masculine face." Right on, Mr. Waits.

Thanks for reading.

beanforest

my whole life needs a haircut

And not one of those $10 haircuts that you need to fix with a $30 haircut three days later. I'm trying to save up for something FANCY.

the uniform i wear when seeking pleasure

out causing mischief

heaven is in the chorus

The drawing is unrelated to the cartoon, I hope.

Nuggets: I'm a triple threat

This might only be funny if you know what a triple threat is. Or maybe you know what a triple threat is and it's still not funny.

the prick of birthdays future

Daddy Issues. Mommy Issues. Psychology is fascinating.

-beanforest

from here on out

don't tell the doctor who you are

Nuggets: Let's Begin

I thought I was just loitering, but I trust the Glum police to know when loitering is more than simple loitering.

-beanforest

i"ll still be chewin

pardon my dust

Hi all,

Still alive. Still having difficulty finding the time for blog posts, but here's the way I figure it: infrequently updated blogs are obnoxious. Infrequently updated blogs authored by people that constantly promise more frequent updates but never carry through on that are even more obnoxious. Right? So I'm just gonna shut my mouth about the subject and post when I can.

On that note:

 Click to enlarge.

Red Blooded Male

Cell Phone Etiquette

This one goes out to the dickhead talking loudly on his cellphone at the coffee shop for what I'm told was over 2 hours last week. I try not to draw any conclusions about the character of strangers, but dude, if you ever read this, I'm fairly certain you are a total dickhead. I don't know your name, but I and everybody else present heard every word of your side of an arrogant and totally mundane conversation you could've taken outside. You weren't talking about etiquette; that was a joke at your expense. You seemed a little unnerved near the end when you started to notice that whenever you glanced my way, I was impassively staring at you in a creepy fashion. This was because I was impassively staring at you in the hopes of creeping you out. My frustration with your lack of social protocol will be much less subtle next time.

Thanks for reading, everybody.

-beanforest