The Drivel Thread

I think she has better success painting animals over painting humans, but she’s resolved to paint Morrissey exclusively now, and this one isn’t bad if she can touch up the flesh issue. There’s a look of anguished martyrdom on Morrissey’s face (possibly unintended. But lose the clutched t-shirt, shoot some arrows into his chest, and he’s a St. Sebastian).
I've seen more paintings of objects of hers, I think
But I'm horrible at painting people so I won't criticise hers
This might just be me, but the coloration of his flesh looks different on each segment bounded by the rosary necklace. Most distinctly, the shoulder and chest on the right side of the painting almost look like he’s wearing a beige v-neck shirt, if it weren’t for the nipple and the belly button.
And yet I like it so much as is that I just signed it and am going to have it framed, as is.
Ah, I just joke about my invented schizophrenia, I know I at least don't have any, haha. But it did feel like it at one point. And your advice is my advice which I wish I could have given to my younger self. I used to be on here at 14, left, and came back. But I know what to do now. Now I only talk to Nicky or rifke or whatever she wants to be called.
@nicky wire's legs

So are the drivel thread posts diary entries for everybody, or just for people who are too cheap to buy a journal for such an important purpose?
I am not really sure what the Drivel thread is for, but I think we are given a blog with our profile if we want to use a space as a diary
Everything hinges on having healthy lungs. I wrote that I wouldn’t talk about mine here anymore, but here I am, talking about them. They’re quite distressed. Funny how easy it is to take them for granted, until they’re irritated and it makes you anxiety ridden. I didn’t cough all day, until about 7PM, when a feeling of anxiety came rattling out of my lungs in the form of coughing. How I envy those with healthy lungs right now. How quickly mine deteriorated, after months of reprieve. I blame chronic anxiety for triggering the illness to gain traction. I hope I will still be able to paint, in the days to come. I’m seeing my doctor on Wednesday morning. She’ll probably send me for another x-ray of my chest. I dread the idea of having a lung biopsy. I will fast for three days, in the hope of putting the condition back to sleep, so that a biopsy will be unnecessary.
I was lying on my bed, to calm a slight rattling cough, and these words floated into my head. “You’ve got to be with someone who discovers you."
I’ve had Morrissey singing Before the Dawn You’ll Be Gone in my head a lot lately, and I find it extremely attractive.
Two well framed portraits so far. I've stretched paper for the next portrait of Morrissey. I'm nervous every time.
From what I watched last night, and heard on Radio 4 this morning, it’s not looking too good for Russell.
All those women can’t be wrong. I think a lot mor women will now come forward as well.
My right lung is plagued, and I’m doomed unless intermittent fasting will help me. I want to literally sleep with Morrissey before I die, to mutually sleep deeply, intertwined. To wake up to Morrissey’s kind arms around me.
I’m glad that isn’t a fresh photo.

No, but it’s still a good one. Morrissey looks nice in his Michael Landon shirt; it appears he might be drinking a vodka screwdriver or a rum mango lassi. Russell Brand is wearing a diabolical grin (or maybe it just looks that way given what’s come out recently). You could give him goat horns and add a pentagram to his necklace. Noel Gallagher is the drunkest of the three.
anxiety bloody awful poetry testing the waters trying to feel good in your own skin trying to make friends wanting to alleviate anxiety wanting to feel safe to be honest wanting to have integrity
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