These are pieces that I lost while I created my mind. Some still exist. A few, in the hands of old friends and lovers (babygirl, if you find a drawing, frame it. You don’t have to hang it in your space. Just frame it. Even if you throw it in a corner to collect dust, make sure it’s presentable for limbo. When I drew it, I’m sure it meant something to me. And I believe it meant something to you, as well. So, please frame it. If I ever see you again, I’ll repay you for the frame. At my worst, I still clung to the best of intentions), and, as such, maybe not in the best condition. I know that two have been burned in anger. One, right before my eyes. Another, crisscrossed with folds. One more, a ringlet of tea added. When I drew these, they were in moments of inspiration and, more likely than not, intoxication. Done on anything. From the back of receipts to fine arts paper. This is where I know they all still exist, now. In the digital aether. They’ll be here ‘til the lights go out.
ÂŠ2011 Lance McBride
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