drawing from january sick book

And this is how I remember you:

As a wrestler drinking Drano,
Alice cross-legged next to you
we hang out
Star-struck at the thought of western diseases
waiting up for them
in the chill curfew nights.


Drawing is the only constant to what I do, like an extension of thought.
I once had a chance to study anatomical drawing by visiting the medical school in Calgary. The effect was to draw me obsessively into the forms of cellular structures, parasites, joints, tissue samples, tumours, all the hidden structures that make us up.

Growing up speaking Spanish, later English, and now struggling to learn French, I've always been fascinated by the differences in being between languages.
It's not just terminology, there's a slant to text and grammar, to the music of voice, that colours the flow and form of thoughts.
This is something we all know.
Drawing works in the same way...
drawing's a form of translation: building incoherence that acquires its own logic?

But for me this also has to do with the trickster, the fool, slapstick, all the contrary, shit-disturbing energies that are getting subsumed by efficient methodologies…

nautilus drawing
making the lunchroom paper ship drawing

drawing big holes of ignorance:

to set this up? Helping to clean out ashtrays.
aluminum, found wheels, motors, sensors, rubber, paper, drawing a kind of
disease.… Nothing to do but to clean out ashtrays. Like everyone, when I was five I owned the world. My general defense plan was to sink my teeth into calves and ram bits of broken bottles into eyeballs- easy-peasy.
But in flying dreams I started crashing, and when batman caught me I would slowly realize that I was actually one of the bad guys:
laying out color on the jigsaw drawing
1. Gestetner and drawing the Smurfs
2. el accidente de moto de la empleada de el General Contreras.
3. what kind of motors?
4. a wonderbread spaceship – invisible barrier for the small robots?
5. Sound? grinding and motors?
6. 70's porn. con herramientas gigantes entre las piernas.
7. Mafalda, porsupuesto que no es bella, es solo exotica!
8. La abuelita con una pistola debajo de la falda.
9. Autonomous? Or, no mind?
10. no. of controllers? What kind of controllers?
11. The screaming foam heads: closed loop.
12. supermarket gophers scream squabble?
13. La rejilla verde, pan alegre cada noche.
14. Ese ritmo hondo que es acero y hueso fuerte comiendo tierra
15. La Mamota! La mamota esta enferma!
16. La gallina podrida que encontraste con tu amiga en Rengo y la cocinaron a escondidas al borde de un acequia.
17. La escopeta. Desenterrando otra gallina en casi el mismo lugar.
18. We're all somebody's dog.

By first grade I knew I was one of the ugly ones, and was going to have to get by on bullying and charm. I'd eyeball the national motto on the wall: "Por la Razon o la Fuerza", by reason or by force.
It sounded pretty good.
Worked pretty good, till the first time I walked into a Canadian classroom and realized I was about half the size of the average kid. And the cat took my tongue forever.
I had to re-think my general plan.
Used the broken bottle bottoms to study the sky.

lunch paper ship Made the lunch paper ship over three weeks in a small lunch-room at Concordia University. It looked like a ten-foot paper football mated with a white whale.
detail of the torn drawing

the middle of the drawing process for the pig playing the xylophone installation