The Poisonous Botany.

I fell asleep after reading Amy Stewart's Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother & Other Botanical Atrocities and all night long my dreams were overwhelmed by Stewart's interesting shrubs, trees, flowers, etc. 

*If you've ever wanted to know how to nix someone (with plants), make them hallucinate (with plants), or, just give them really bad diarrhea (with, you guessed it, plants) then I recommend reading this book.

Really!?

Draw, paint, scribble, scratch, and carve it, but never try to dissect, it'll just get messy. And I won't make anything up either, otherwise things might start to look like this:

[Not a Dream. Also, more of a cloak than a coat.]

Maybe I'm crazy? Or, maybe I just have really great dreams? I dunno. Regardless I'm having a nice time recording them, so, the project shall continue. 

Ce n'est pas l'extrémité. It is not the end.

Librarium.

A swim-flying adventure. No water, just books and fish. 

(delightful.)

He's a Deep Sea Diver.

"With a stroke that can't go wrong." (And a new wetsuit too.)

I had to drink 300 glasses to get him out.

Holidayz'd.

Every year I purchase a handblown ornament from Neiman Marcus as a gift for my mother (we like to pretend we're fancy). This tradition is always fun because it requires a trip to Union Square, which is quite the holiday spectacle. 

Anyway. (In a dream that I recently had.)

I realized that I had waited too late to make my trip to Neiman's and as a result I wouldn't be able to bring the much coveted box-o-class to Christmas. In a panic, I thought long and hard how to appease/please/delight my darling momma. Alas--   

I crafted her an ornament. With some old broken bulbs and a little glue, tape, and staples -yes, staples-, I made a super bad-ass, one of a kind, Christmas heirloom. 

You're welcome, mom. It's really the least I could do. Really.     

Paging Dr. Vomitus.

1. I'm eating a bowl of room-temperature blueberry yogurt in a hospital waiting room.

2. FLASH.

3. I'm a doctor who needs to check on a patient --irritated because I still have that disgusting yogurt, which for some reason I'm compelled to keep eating--. 

4. At first glance I assume my patient to be the new mother of a recently birthed infant, HOWEVER, I quickly realize that a. the 'infant' is attached to the woman's left side, b. the woman is drinking a beer and is clearly intoxicated, and finally, c. no one else in the room seems to be fazed by any of this.
5. I vomit. (Goodbye blueberry yogurt.)

Fin.

Snake Bite.

I was on Safari in Africa (?) when a corn-on-the-cob snake bit my right arm:  

Subsequently, I broke out in strange hives resembling swollen pustules, or rather, ready-to-pop pimples; it was more disgusting than terrifying. And although a snake bite is never really pleasant, I did enjoy the strangeness of it all. Twas' an adventure indeed (fucking corn-on-the-cob snakes).