in which I write poop a lot and address racism among animals
Hey there just sniffin’ a berry. (photo credit Henry Mosher)
This week Wilco played two hometown shows in the hometown of Chicago. Being Chicago is our hometown I went Sunday night and luh-huhved it! Both Sam’s and my teachers [um I need a grammar lesson] were there, along with my teacher from 2nd grade who I haven’t seen since 2nd grade.. and my cantor, and old neighbors, and old babysitters, and Tavi. (My dad joked thanking the “200 people who weren’t on the guest list tonight.”) Instead of going to the show Monday night Sammy and I slept over at our adult friends Ellen and Greg’s house, where we rode bikes indoors (special) and introduced Ellen to Farmville (aka the only decent facebook game ever made, besides maybe perhaps Jetman).
I’M GROWING PINEAPPLE. AND I HAVE A TRACTOR.
NOW FOR THE MEAT. Having “archivalist” blood in the family, I found this old sketchbook from somewhere between 1st or 3rd grade the other day. It has lots of weird drawings of people with stick-hair and conflicted faces and me failing to spell my name correctly.
Robots and human have a big diffrence.
Yeah okay monkey
Sad’n'mad. So conflicted.
Even at an early age I loved symmetry.
Spencr poop (wrinkly face + goldfish) Guys… I am such a prodigy.
Oh cool young Spencer you can draw an S. NOT.
Hot pink guitar
Race issues.
Uvula
Sinister
Electric face
Scarred. I really like this one.
Monster. I can remember drawing this.
Aminal. Like this one a lot too.
V O L C A N O. Love this.
Road.
Take that Damien Hirst!
