Memory

Last night when I came home after stopping at Lemongrass for another weird time around ritzy-looking types sipping fruity drinks and munching Thai, their eyes hungry for sex--with me, the young punk with his hood up and the orange journal?--no, not with me,--I completed a pen drawing while chatting with Dave about men above some super loud, jammy Pink Floyd.

I plan on getting my digital camera from my parents' house and snapping a photo of my drawing to post here on RainbowKolor; however, I am also tempted to view the work as not quite done. I could straighten some lines, and I could also do more with the patterns on the sofa and the carpet. But I almost want to close out on the work and move on. We will see.