Sometimes when crossing the midwest and/or southwest, things can begin to feel a little too much. Or so says my experience.
I used to find this true, that if I forgot I was an outcast, i wouldn’t feel like one, and people seemed much more accepting.
I’m not sure what i am now, I’ve spent too many years forgetting. :)
I remember seeing the southwest for the first time, and loving the beautifulness of it so much. And I still do. Although I didn’t think i got into Krazy Kat until I moved to Portland. Hrm.
Here’s one time where Bruno is in the right, time to just dump the guy and go out and have fun without him. But where would be the drama in that?
The Derailer was an art studio place, and this was actually from a reference photo taken there (and those feet in the painting in the center are from a painting by my friend Pasqualina Azzarello).












