I’ve recently been leafing through old sketchbooks, and even some ‘sketchbooks’ from before there were sketchbooks (I say this only because I have deemed my first legitimate sketchbook from Summer 2003-through sometime in 2004 perhaps to be the real deal, the rest were just half hearted attempts)  and I find them equally embarassing and exciting.  Some have silly quotes all throughout, some have my own thoughts throughout (oh so silly some of them), and there are drawings and paintings and do-dads stuck on them. And the majority of them are pretty terrible. BUT I think I must deem them important tangible documents of the trivial and the traumatic as well as the terrific, and move on. And I believe some of them are so important I want to put them up here, once I get them scanned/photographed etc.

I’ve been thinking about perfection a lot. What a terrible thing.