Tags: flying super phallicmonkeys

(no subject)

Well, I walked home and back without being attacked by the monsters of the shadows or the creatures of the needles. Go me! Ironically, this has made me fucking tired. I have all these delicious drawin' stuff...and now I'm going to bed. It's four in the morning. I am tired. Drawing will have to wait until tonight, at around midnight. That's when the urge strikes. I'd greatly appreciate it, Mr. MyBrain McBrainstein, if you would allow me to go to sleep at night and hit me with ravenous drawing urges during the daytime, and not vice versa. Fookin' insomnia! I'll 'ave yer fookin' head fo' this, ya?

(Psst, attention studio audience, we're going to pretend that decapitating my insomnia is just metaphorical, otherwise I'd have to cut off my head, and my head tells me that that's not such a bright idea. Stupid head. I hate you, head.)

P.S. Thanks for all your wonderful support, friends. I'll never forget those precious few of you who, in all sincerity, told me to drool myself to stupidity, or kill my soul, or slit my wrists, or perhaps the worst, write gawth poetry. You are the ones that make the difference, and I'm sure that one day you'll all make wonderful Hitlers. Just not as good of a Hitler as me.