A Blog Called Nowhere

Behold the faces of Dread. Eyes sparkle but do not be decieved, there is no soul, or maybe it's been paved over with face pancake? The studio awaits my arrival like a vacume waiting to suck up the lint ball that sits atop my melanoma riddled torso. Fred Escher delivers 4 new canvasses today. If only I could put my blog on large canvases... if only I could type my paintings, or paint from my bed. But as it stands, my studio has no computer or bed, or refridgerator or TV. It is a jail cell. Who ever said art is either plagerism or revolution was a hard-ass, still, heres hoping for revolution today.