Was digging through my old work folder and came across these roughs from last summer. They were originally going to be shown at a theme-park gallery run by a company that rhymes with “Bisney”. Needless to say, there was some weirdness with contract stuff and the project fell through. Thought it would be fun to share these anyhow!
anyone have advice for someone who has a roommate that’s starting to cross boundaries you haven’t been able to set yet without having her hate you cuz like we get along fine but things are just kinda tense right now, we’ve been living together for three days, and classes haven’t even started yet.
Unfriendly reminder that in America it’s reasonable to say an unarmed black kid deserved to be shot six times because he might have robbed a convenience store, but a white kid shouldn’t be kicked off the high school football team just because he violently raped a girl.
when white boys make fun of girls getting drunk im kinda just like but have you seen white boys wasted. they start rapping and whispering into girls necks and start yelling racist shit to people on the street. when girls get wasted it just means we’re all super nice to each other in the bathroom and dance to beyonce
The eyes were hollow and the carven beard was broken, but about the high stern forehead there was a coronal of silver and gold. A trailing plant with flowers like small white stars had bound itself across the brows as if in reverence for the fallen king. Look, Sam! Look! The king has got a c r o w n again!
As Arnold points out, there is an otherwise inexplicable shift in direction in the Piccadilly line passing east out of South Kensington. “In fact,” she writes, “the tunnel curves between Knightsbridge and South Kensington stations because it was impossible to drill through the mass of skeletal remains buried in Hyde Park.” I will admit that I think she means “between Knightsbridge and Hyde Park Corner”—although there is apparently a “small plague pit dating from around 1664” beneath Knightsbridge Green—but I will defer to Arnold’s research.
But to put that another way, the ground was so solidly packed with the interlocked skeletons of 17th-century victims of the Great Plague that the Tube’s 19th-century excavation teams couldn’t even hack their way through them all. The Tube thus had to swerve to the side along a subterranean detour in order to avoid this huge congested knot of skulls, ribs, legs, and arms tangled in the soil—an artificial geology made of people, caught in the throat of greater London.