...And there you thought I was being silly the other day with the Paul Rabbit drawing! But it's getting better (or worse) and better.
I've been doing some simple drawing, concentrating more on content than on color. It has helped me to get over certain issues I was having with style lately and finding the simple ridiculousness of illustration that I like so very much.
To put it simply: I've been laughing about my own illustrations for days now and am willing to take that as a good sign.
(Please, Freund family members, do not leave comments about my state of sanity here. I'm trying to uphold a certain image of myself in public, due to the necessity to live off my trade, which would be illustration. We can discuss all further issues later and in private. You've got my phone number.)
Do you actually remember me? I'm the voice this blog is (supposed to be) made of.
I know it has been more than a month since you heard me, but, well... oh all right. There is no excuse.
The illustration was supposed to make you laugh and forget that you were annoyed with me.
It didn't work?
How about some photos of how I've been sick lately? Will that make you feel more lenient towards me?
If ever a friend of mine, let's call him Mister P., calls to have dinner with you, don't let him in. He carries the most astonishing tribe of microbes that will infiltrate your lungs and sinuses, as they have mine a month ago. And the will never let go. Or at least that's what it feels like. Seriously. After a month of antibiotics and all sorts of magical potions, I still cough like a very old and rheumatic dog and I breathe like a dinosaur. You know, one of those that ended in a retirement home for the very big and very ancient and sonorously annoying.
After feeling slow and impaired in the breathing department, but able to work for two weeks, the microbes did their last stand yesterday and I was confined to bed.
Please let me confess to being the most ungracious patient you could ever meet. There's nothing I dislike more than not being able to function properly. When you hear nurses in a hospital whispering about 'the monster', it means that I'm somewhere in there, being sick and pesky.
So when I felt able to get up and move today, I was more than happy to work. The whole day.
With the result that I feel just as sick now as I did yesterday.
So there'll be some knitting tonight. A baby sweater that is two years overdue (don't worry, I did remember to adjust the size over the years) as a gift to a friend.
Now, doesn't that make you feel happy about this post being overdue only by about a month and not two years?