DEBORAH HARRY

11 x 8 1/2"
Fude brush and acrylic in Canson sketchbook

DREAM JOURNAL POLITICS

8 1/2" x 5 1'2"

Uniball pen, Pentel brush pen and watercolor in Strathmore sketchbook

A dinner function. Julie an I are seated at a table with about ten professors with their husbands and wives. One professor is strongly expressing his political opinion. Everyone at the table is becoming uncomfortable with his level of obnoxiousness yet they all are remaining silent with their eyes cast downward. So I cut in and refute his assertions. He got pissed off because narcissist that he is, he doesn't like looking foolish in front of the others. So he gets up and stomps off...

Then we are all surrounding him laying in a hospital emergency room. I hear someone say that I gave him a heart attack, then another voice says "Yeah, you caused this." As I look down at this face I think well, he brought this on himself but no more arguing, especially political arguments.

Then I woke up from this dream

OLD BIBLE BILL

OLD BIBLE BILL
11" x 17"
Uniball pen, Faber-Castell brush pens and Pentel brush pen in Canson sketchbook
Illustration of a story in Demon Box by Ken Kesey

"This story is ...mainly about these three visitations I had...like three ghosts from A Christmas Carol.

The first came the day before the killing, Sunday evening , while were were waiting for my Mom and Grandma Whittier to come out for supper. This specter was the easiest to comprehend and deal with. In fact, he was almost classic in his immediate comprehensibility; versions of this spook have probably been around since the first campfire. He poked his bearded kisser in out of the night, all shaggily a-grin. He had a bottle of screw top Tokay in his right hand, a battered black book in his left, and glint in his gummy eyes that could have been bottled and displayed in the Bureau of Standards: the Definitive Panhandler Come-On Glint.

"Greetings the house!" he called through a curtain of phlegm. "This is Bible Bill, ol' Bible Bill, come in the name of the Main Redeemer, praise Him. Anybody home?"

I didn't have to give it a second thought. "No," I said.

"Dev? Brother Deboree? Greetings, brother, greetings!" He held forth the Good Book and the bad wine. "Compliments of Bible Bill, these--"

"No, " I repeated, pushing right on past the offerings. I put one hand on his chest and held the door open with the other, pushing. Behind him, I could make out an entourage of shivering teenagers, unhappy in the December wind. Bill wasn't pleased with the prospect of getting shoved back out in it, either.
"Dev, don't be like this, dammit all! I promised these kids--"
"No." I pushed.
"Give it up, dude," one of the teenagers said to him. "Can't you see you're bugging the man?"
"But kinfolks--"
"But my butt," another kid joined in. "let's go."
With me pushing and them pulling we moved him back to the Toyota they'd come in, him hollering, "But cousins! Brothers! Comrades! and me hollering back, "But no! No! No!"