More crappy drawings

March/April edition

I keep little notebooks and make crappy drawings in them.

I’m not getting down on myself by referring to them as crappy. Instead, I’m removing all pressure and expectations of perfection. I don’t lay anything down in pencil first, I go straight in with my tombow markers. I may work on them in airplanes or sitting on the grass or in a bar or restaurant or in a hospital room or on my kitchen table.

“Do it your own way” sticker by Rani Ban. Pocket sketchbook by Daler Rowney. They’re $2.29 at wal-mart, $5.64 on Amazon, and up to $10 on ebay.

The butt plug wasn’t mine (no shame) I found it on the street(!). I have since located the t-shirt, glasses and marker.

I just got myself another empty ink refill. Not because I used it, but because it went through the washing machine. The ink only stained one dark blue sock with polka dots. I’m taking that as a win.

I’m not pregnant in the 1992 drawing. I was in my hippie era wearing lots of flowy clothes.

My dad was in the hospital with Covid and other things. His visitors were required to be in full PPE 100% of the time—including gowns. I imagine that waking up in his delirium to see identically dressed figures whose words sounded like a jumble behind two masks only added to the surreality of the situation. (He is way better now.)

I like to finish each notebook with a “State of the Rubi.” Update: the earrings were in my bag the whole time. Also, it is possible to suck on so many cough drops that you burn your tongue.