Tag Archives: musing

Distractions. I had an announcement in here somewhere.

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

Sometimes people ask me what I’m thinking. Usually I have to struggle to come up with a thought that is relevant because if I shared what was really on my mind it’d become very obvious that I wasn’t paying attention.

I wonder why anybody would get excited over a horse-drawn carriage? Personally I’m not even sure you could look at anything drawn by a horse and have any idea as to what it’s supposed to be. 

It took me many, many years to come to grips with the fact that I’m actually a very terrible listener. Despite having passed hearing tests as a teenager with flying colors it was only within the past couple of years that I realized that my problem is actually that I can’t really focus on what any one person is saying. I can get distracted by anything. And I mean anything.

Apparently there’s a webcomic called Poorly Drawn Lines. I get some hits from people looking for that. With that said I get about as many hits from people looking for drawn erotica so maybe I shouldn’t think about it too much. Or maybe I’ve stumbled upon a new niche market I can tap into.

Oh, exciting news! We now have a button maker! One for larger buttons too! I might have a design or two up for sale soon.

Marsha has pretty much made it mandatory for all visitors to drawn bees.

Marsha has pretty much made it mandatory for all visitors to draw bees.

Since it’s the season I have to wonder this out loud.

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

There’s something I never understood. Why do people seek entertainment in the horror genre? As someone who scares easily and has a hard time shaking that off, I can’t for the life of me understand why people go out of their way to instill fear in themselves. Especially when that fear is regarding things that can’t possibly exist like monsters and the like.

Somebody please help me out here, I’m genuinely curious.

(I’m recycling this picture because it’s kind of relevant.)

I have something that I need a lot of help with quickly.

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

I don’t want to wash the dishes. I do want a pet. Which pet would be the best for me to get if I want to teach it how to do the dishes?

***

The last in the trilogy of pictures that Danny sent me, it may not be a bee but this recreation of one of the greatest scenes in movie history is still relevant. Thanks again!

I should take up spreading false information on Facebook as a hobby.

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of false information being passed around Facebook as fact. Mostly stuff from satirical news sources and the like from people who don’t notice the articles are written to be a joke. It makes me wonder what I could get away with in terms of making up something and trying to convince half the world that it’s fact.

It’ll have to be something eye-catching and based on something that people will care enough about to relate to it while at the same time not caring enough to actually research it. I don’t know enough tweens for anything resembling the following to work, so that’s out:

Parody news can be fun and is easier to spread, but I almost feel that it’s overdone thanks to all the sites out there that are basically a knockoff of The Onion. Just in case you’re out of the loop, Bill Nye didn’t go on a curse-laden rampage, nor was he blamed for a hurricane, nor is he debating Todd Akin. Samsung didn’t pay Apple in nickles either. Fake animal facts are pretty easy as well, but making claims such has live dogs/cats being used as shark bait being a widespread practice is pretty cruel in itself (There was a case where several fishermen were prosecuted with such a thing, the dogs involved were already dead.).

That leaves me with fake science. As long as it’s not potentially harmful it can be pretty fun. I think I’ll go with that. Hell, I may even post it on this site and link people to that post as it appears directly above this one ha ha. Or maybe I’ll buffer at least once post in between first. Hmmm.

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Adam from The Last Gamestore submitted this and suggested it may be a poorly crafted bee. I dunno. I just accept these things, upload them and move on with life ha ha. At any rate thanks Adam!

I did it!

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

After six stifling months of a dreaded temporary assignment I fled from the building after my last shift. Freedom! It’s here! I can do whatever I want for the next ten days until the next one starts! The only problem is that I had no idea what I wanted to do with my time.

There was only one way to find out. I ran to the top of the nearest cliff. With one foot on a rock and the other on the ground, I struck a pose as the wind began to blow through my hair. The sky was ablaze with the wonderful sunset, and just as I have learned from video games, lines of text depicting my future began to scroll from from the horizon.

“As our hero finds his freedom,
An infinite chasm of choices await.”

Oh jeez, it’s going to do the whole setting up the story thing. Let’s get on with it already!

“Within time he will learn his destiny,
But that is not the only thing he will learn.”

Man, who writes garbage like this. Seriously?

“A man who will become aware of his true flaws,
Will become a man who blames others no more.
The very thing he has feared the most,
Is the very thing he will be the cause of.”

A little redundant, but now I’m scared.

“A struggle to find meaning in his spare time,
Will be the most meaningless struggle of all.
Because given ten minutes or ten days,
He will simply sit there online and look at stupid pictures anyway.

You know what? Screw you mystical text in the sky. My time off is going to be awesome! Just you wait and see.

What if my arms were actually rhinos?

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

What if I could meld my arms into things without hurting them? I’m thinking something like Axel from Twisted Metal but with animals instead of giant wheels. Axel is a character who’s basically fused into these giant tires with some other mechanical bits, as shown below.

What if I could have my arms fused into the side of a pair of rhinos? Oh man, the power!

I wonder how it would feel like to steer such large animals with my arms. Turning by turning one arm closer to my chest and one arm away from my chest would definitely be a rush the first few times. At first I’d be worried about running into things but given the size of the creatures I’m sure they’d hit things before I do. And unless it’s something large it probably wouldn’t bother them anywhere near as much as it would bother me.

Dude! Maybe flapping my arms would make them jump. That might very well be the very thing I now desire more than anything, even more so than an infinite supply of special Diet Pepsi and bacon that has no negative effect on my health. I’d find a desolate place and just jump around while relishing the complete and utter destruction that I’d be causing.

Hmmmm, I just realized something. How would I ever traverse anything like stairs or anything that would require me to reach a higher point in the building? I mean, I could probably just punch some buildings down but that doesn’t give me a good view of the horizon and as an undesired sound effect it seems to kill people a lot.

Conclusion: I desire having rhinos for arms, but only some of the time. I feel the ability to go all “Animorphs” with each of my arms instead of my entire being would make for an excellent comic mini-series or OVA of some sort. Maybe I should starting writing and doing the art now!

I don’t think it works for bees though.

A list of things that would hurt me if I kicked them.

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

A wall. For the most part.

Mike Tyson.

The leg of that table which I swear if I stub my toe on it for like the seventh time tonight I’m going to destroy the thing entirely using only thoughts of explosions.

A cardboard box full of German Shepherds. Also, a cardboard box full of shepherds that happen to be German.

The majority of doors which is super disappointing.

The Queen (Although the pain wouldn’t be from her directly . . . Probably her guards or something.).

Cute animals, although the pain is more emotional in that case to be honest.

Beehives. Although it is an impressive feat of agility.

Marsha suggested an alligator. That’s reasonable.

BEARS! THE ALLIGATORS OF THE LAND!

A glass box of rusty nails.

City Hall regardless of if it’s in session or not.

The sun, the stars, a lit fireplace . . . Anything that is made of fire.

Robots that look like people. I fall for it every time.

Myself.

(Editor’s Note: The follow picture is from my girlfriend and several of her friends (One of these bees was drawn by a semi-professional manga artist.). All of these were drawn left handed on a moving train.)

So I decided to drink to spur the writing process. This is the result:

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

I press on. With one hand under my robe I firmly grasp the neck of a priceless violin. The other I use to hold the robe in a desperate grip, the kind you use to hold a lover for that final moment knowing you won’t see them again for a time that is always too long. I had forgotten why I needed to leave so badly, but it needed to be done.

The dusty trail is all that I have known for quite some time now. I wander and I wonder as I wonder and I wander. Man I love that sentence. The trail seems never-ending. Of course it hasn’t been the same trail for all of this time but that makes no difference in my mind.

Maybe it’s time to stop deluding myself. I know damn well why I had left, and it wasn’t because of the romantic travelling fantasies that I’ve had my entire life. I was running. Running away from things that anyone else could handle with little effort. Or so I’ve been lead to believe anyway. My flair for the dramatic had laid its roots far too deep though, to the point that it was the primary cause of many major life choices.

It was the same old tale you’ve surely heard over and over. Yes, there was a woman. Memories of lying on an open hill watching clouds while my hand found hers for the first time, urging her to play me a song on her bass until she finally caved in and shyly played a jazz solo she wrote, making love while covered only by the light of the moon . . . These things constantly push their way to the forefront of my mind. Sometimes with my consent, sometimes without. Like a passionate kiss from an angry god they always leave me confused and hurt regardless.

Why things fell apart so quickly was beyond me. But alas they did. Disagreements turned into arguments, arguments turned into confrontations and confrontations turned into fights. Then I abandoned it all. Leaving only a spiteful note for her and an apologetic note full of vague explanations for my roommate with enough money to pay for a month’s rent I ran away from my problems. Given my approach it was probably safe to assume that everything was my fault. With that said though that’s my thought pattern towards most things in life.

Pawning off my expensive goods for some quick cash and leaving most of the rest behind out of convenience I departed for nowhere. Aside from clothing all I took with me was a cheap violin. Priceless not because of its monetary value, but because it was my first. You never forget your first love. I did sign the bottom of it though. If that act ever made it more valuable than any instrument made with a high level of craftsmanship . . . Well, it’s a fantasy I have. A common one I’m sure.

Years later and I find myself on a desert cliff somewhere in the great southwest. What makes it so great I’ve yet to experience. This is as good a place as any though. I survey the scenery in front of me. Still can’t decide if these things are better experienced alone or with the company of . . .

A tear forms as I remind myself yet again that the answer to that one is obvious.

With my right hand I cast off the robe behind me in a dramatic fashion. I pull the bow from a sheath I wear on my back over the shoulder. It feels like I’m an archer who just pulled out the arrow that will pierce the target of my desire. Which is excellent because that’s the precise reason I designed the sheath to begin with. Hesitating for a few seconds I take a deep breath and close my eyes as I position the violin on my shoulder . . .

The song I play is a song of my own concoction. A concoction of hope, love, sorrow and regret. I play to an audience of nobody. Even in my craft I strive to hide my innermost feelings from the world in fear of judgement.

After I finish I loosen my arms and let them hang by my sides. My violin gently taps my left calf as tears begin to stream more freely now. I stay like that for what seems like forever before sheathing my bow and re-donning my robe. I leave to go find shelter for the rest of the night.

I will continue doing this until everything makes sense. But by then my old life will be completely gone if it isn’t already. Maybe the only reason I keep this up is because familiarity breeds comfort. I await the day this cycle ends . . .

(Editor’s Note: After finishing this I didn’t feel like sketching a picture, so here’s something I pinned to a poster board on Barrington Street.)

Thinking about death in an illogical manner.

Posted by Poorly Drawn Bees on

Although it’s a waste of time due to the lack of sensory functions after death, it’s hard not to image what death would be like.

I often try to think of flying forward in an infinite space for an infinite amount of time. But in doing so I try to imagine moving infinitely faster to cover more ground to try to get to the end of the infinite space. In doing so for some reason my view of myself always ‘zooms out’ further and further away as if that somehow helps me any. My reasoning for this train of thought is that it’s influenced by the statement ‘moving forward in time’ and this is an attempt to see how the rest of time will play out in my non-existent mind.

Will there be a point where my brain will be alive while the rest of my body is functionally dead, even if only for a second? What will that feel like? Would I make a futile attempt to move my limbs? In doing so would they feel impossibly heavy or would there be a different mental response?

Waking up in a casket is a huge fear of mine. Reasonably so I feel. One time I woke up with my limbs all restrained due to a medical procedure I just had and I panicked so hard I threw up all over the place.

So yeah. Regarding the spiritual-religious people out there you have your beliefs about death. But for the non-believers . . . Do you still spend time thinking about how death will feel without actually believing what you think?