The Man Upstairs
A Fictional Series
LARRY FERGUSON, UNIT 101
I moved into Fourth and Main twenty years ago and it was the best complex in the city. At the time. Over the last few years the building has either gone to shit, or I’m just more particular about my surroundings. Maybe both.
The pipes groan whenever someone flushes, and the common rooms need some serious cleaning. What really gets me, though, is that the walls are paper thin.
The tenants used to be quieter back in the day. Most were elderly, and those folks have either died or gone to care homes – the owner included. Not dead. His son sent him to some place called Dignity Retreat. Just a fancy name for a care home, I reckon. Continue reading →
Wind, blowing kisses,
Pink skies, whispering a tune,
Time, not forgotten.
I started this image about a week ago. It was a simple remake of the famous “Marilyn’s dress flies up over a storm drain” or whatever it was she was standing on.
I didn’t like my illustration too well, so I played around and found this pink double exposure effect in the Photoshop Camera App. I think the pink gives it a modern look with a retro poster feel. Continue reading →
Stories We Tell
A Fictional Series
When Delilah was nine or ten, Martin and I went through a rough patch. Martin thought that our life was too structured; that we had lost all spontaneity.
He missed the unknowing, and all of the excitement that comes with acting on impulse. He said that his days had been reduced to “mindless obedience” to a mosaic of ‘to-do’ sticky notes and our colorful daily planner – all of which I’d strategically mounted on the refrigerator, where they could not be ignored.
I had worked hard at creating this system that Martin was condemning, and it really ticked me off. If it weren’t for my planner, and all of those ‘to-do’ stickies that he complained about, nothing would ever get done! Continue reading →