This is my first copper plate of the year for Print 1. I ran a few black and white test prints and then jumped right into color. My goal was a sort of sci-fiesque multicolored print. The third image “Rocktopus” was very carefully inked with four different colors at once and then printed. A second printing was done on the same image to capture all of the detailed lines.
Tag Archives: Charlotte's Short Stories
I am only writing you this letter because you asked me to not because I think you are a good friend. A real friend would have moved to Encino to be with me and not made excuses about needing to be with her husband and kids. You should have at least came to stay with me until I got to stage 5 of GRIEF (acceptance). But fuck it I’m already there. Anyways, after Jonathan “hofucker” Ramirez decided to leave me for a hobag I decided to become a cereal dater. And guess what? I am learning a lot! Not just from the men I bang but from the other women cereal daters at the bar too. Did you know you can tell everything important about girls from the drinks they order? Check this out:
A sex on the beach means she is a total hobag who will fuck a guy on the first night for sure no matter what.
A blow job means she will fuck him but he has to buy her more drinks first. But she will definitely give him a b.j. no matter what.
A cosmopolitan means she will act like she will fuck him but then probably wont. At least not real sex.
A bloody mary means she is a lesbo no matter what. Even if she says “Oh I just like tomato juice.” Yeah right!
A beer means she is not really serious about fucking the guy and is probably already looking for other guys or she is a lesbo.
A screaming orgasm means she will fuck any guy anywhere just so she can give him STDs.
A screw driver means she is old school and likes fucking smokers in the back seat of cars.
An adios motherfucker means she is really kinky and wants to do threesomes with a guy and her skanky friends.
A shot of tequila or vodka just straight up means she will want to fuck a guy at the bar right away and leave her skirt on.
A white russian means she is up for doing some shit but not in the bathroom.
In case you were wondering, none of those are my drink. I drink vodka tonics. They just mean you are pretty cool and take your time and see how you feel about things before making bad decisions. Anyways, I haven’t learned that much about guys from what they drink because so far no matter what they drink they want to fuck or get b.j.s. I don’t have a new boyfriend yet but I know I am getting really close to finding that special someone. I will write more to you at a later time but I hope you will be more supportive in the future. I can’t just be giving you all this info for nothing.
A really good friend of mine sent me this email. Any takers?
Sent: Wednesday, August 12, 2009 2:18 PM
Dear Friends who know the REAL me,
As most of you already know, I am currently looking for that special someone. After the last catastrophe aka Vanessa, I have spent the last four months being broken hearted, down and out, feeling low, and broke as a joke. I am eating crap and all of my clothes are dirty. I am also being evicted so I decided it was time for me to move on and up with my life. So… do any of guys know any FEMALES who want go out with me? If you do then I need them to fill out a few questions and email them to me along with a current full body photo. The questions are:
1. Do you have your own pad or do you live with your parents?
2. If you live with your parents are they cool with us living with them and smoking in the house?
3. Do you like to cook and clean?
4. What is your name?
5. Do you complain alot or suffer in silence?
6. Are you friends with or do you know my ex girlfriend Vanessa?
7. If you are friends with her do you know where she is right now?
8. Do you like to play World of Warcraft?
9. Are you more slutty or more old fashioned?
10. Do you like to watch people play World of Warcraft?
11. Will you be on top most of the time?
12. Do you have kids?
13. Do you know class when you see it?
14. Do you have a nice computer?
Thanks for your help guys! Keep it real- G.I. Jeramy
The thing about sunglasses that I’ve always loved is that they make my already poor vision even worse, and in doing so, they make the world look a whole lot better. Including me. This is especially true when they are scratched up or dirty. Everyone has perfectly smooth skin and a year round tan. No one looks older than twenty-five and my car never needs to be washed. Yes, with my sunglasses on it is dare I say, a perfect world. Or it was anyway.
Today I picked up my very first pair of prescription sunglasses. Once the initial awe of being able to see during the day wore off, I realized that this might not have been such a good idea. Before, when I put my sunglasses on, no matter how shitty I felt, I always looked better. My pimples went away, my clothes all matched, and was it just my imagination or did I actually lose five pounds? With the new glasses, I look in the mirror and I just see me wearing big glasses. I see everything. And World, this does not work in your favor either. I am sorry to say that Superman and I do not have as much in common as you thought. The more I see, the more I judge.
That “hot” guy at Starbucks that always gives me a few extra shots of chai for free… well I’m not so sure I want them now. I don’t know if I want him anywhere near my drinks at all. I look at the retouched photo of Jessica Alba on the cover of my Cosmo. She still looks pretty good, but she is nothing like she used to be. Photoshop just can’t compare to my old sunglasses. I guess I never realized just how bad my vision had gotten. It happened so slowly. I thought I was just naturally developing a better attitude towards the world. Now I know things only seemed better because I am partially blind.
On the upside, I am now a much safer driver. So if you were worried about me hitting you with my big truck, then you are probably glad I added the prescription to my glasses. I can see stop signs before I run through them. I see now that it is a family with small children crossing in front of me and not an obese woman with a lot of legs. It’s true, before the new glasses, I would have probably scared the crap out of you, slamming on my brakes, coming within inches of crushing you. I could easily have run you over. But in my defense, you would have looked damn good while I did it.
A few days ago I had a dream that Janet and I gave up up on being artists and decided to start our own casting agency. Janet, who actually has had a career in casting and has worked beneath people less qualified than herself, was my assistant. It went something like this:
Janet: “So, who should we cast as the lead in “There are Too Many Bridges in Seattle?”
Me: “You know that hot guy with the mean eyes that shot Scarlett in that movie?”
Janet: “Do you mean Jonathan Rhys Meyers from the Woody Allen movie, Match Point?”
Me: “Yeah. Well, definitely not him.”
Janet: “Okay. Good. So any ideas as to who then?”
Me: “Well, I was thinking of Tom Hanks but not Tom Hanks. Like he should be hot but not so hot that it’s distracting like with Brad Pitt.”
Janet: “Right. Great. Okay, got it. Now what about the love interest?”
Me: “I really like Emma Thompson.”
Janet: “Hmm. Well, our lead is supposed to be in his early twenties and the love interest has to be around the same age.”
Janet: “Emma Thompson might be a little older than that.”
Janet: “So we might have to cast someone younger than Emma.”
Me: “Oh. That sucks.”
And so it went. In the dream, the movie was successfully cast and a huge hit at the box office. I woke up with a feeling of accomplishment but as the day went on I began to question the probability of this career outside of my dream world. I am almost obscenely gifted at forgetting names. I love movies but I hardly ever remember the names of the actors and as far as directors and producers go, my memory draws a complete blank. I know Steven Spielburg did E.T. and that is about it. It’s embarrassing really. Having grown up with an actor father and a writer/producer mother, I should know more than most. But I don’t and if I am going to go into the field of casting, I better start doing my homework.
I decided to start paying attention. I went to see “I love you, man” because Paul Rudd was in it. I watched the entire film, sat through the credits, and left the theatre knowing that Paul Rudd was in it. Oh yeah, and the Hulk. I retained nothing. I did have however, a sort of epiphany as to why credits don’t help me at all. I don’t pay attention to the character’s names in the movie either, so when the credits roll I am staring at two lists of names that have no meaning to me whatsoever. I like credits where they put the actor’s name next to his picture but I am usually so busy looking at the picture that I don’t have time to read the name.
This may sound like a perfect argument as to why I should not pursue a career in casting, but the truth is I think I would be really good at it. I am always watching movies and complaining that they cast the wrong guy as so and so’s boyfriend and that other guy with the big head from that smart action film would have been so much better. So I might cast Paul Rudd as the perverted dying grandfather and Robert Downey Junior as his son, coping with letting go of his father and trying to be supportive of Emma Thompson, his pregnant fifteen year old daughter who has just realized that she has fallen for her unsuspecting autistic swim mate, Natalie Portman. I would of course find parts for Christopher Walken and Samuel L. Jackson and everything else would fall into place. I doubt other casting experts would agree with these choices but can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t go and see that movie?
I am doing ALOT of drugs now so I need to know is Heidi staying at your house or not? I didn’t cheat on her with that “girl” so TELL HER THAT!!!!!! Don’t make this personal (like you always do). You and me broke up a long time ago get over it already. And if you remember I cheated on you ONE time and I felt really bad aka BROKEN HEARTED but you can’t forgive a man… But I am different now and Heidi is my one and only 4LIFE but I cant wait 4EVER. Fuck bitches. All bitches do is make me take ALOT of drugs. I dont give a fuck. Hey Wendy do you think that Heidi will take me back? If she says no then do you want to kick it? Rob told me you went on a diet and got FINE. Is it true that you are not fat anymore? If yes then how come you waited until we broke up to get FINE? That is fucked up but its cool tho Im not mad at you baby. If Heidi isn’t staying with you do you want me to come over? I can come stay with you if you want. I got fired from my job so I have lots of time to do “stuff” to you if you know what I mean. I know you remember the good times!! Lets have some more good times!!! Alright? Ill just come over later.
Love you honeyheart, Matt
I left this note on the refrigerator because you always eat. Get it? Haha. I understand that youre mom stroked and now she will live here even if she HATES!!! me. You think that is not true but it is. It is sad losing a parent as you KNOW I know. So you can see I am not a bitch and untolerant. But I live here too(!!!) and there must be rules for Nana. Or else… (you already know!!!) I know its too hard for you to make rules so I did it for you. When you get back from the hospital please give them to her and read them into her good ear TWICE!!!
Rules For Nana
By: Sharon M.
1.No smoking in or over our bed (like last time)
2.Must keep wheelchair noise to medium/low (and not squeaky on the tiles just to bother ME!!!)
3.Must eat food Sharon (ME!!!) makes
4.No singing loudly or scarring the kids
5.Can only talk to Timmy and Johnny if she says good things about ME no jokes about my RELIGION or my FANTASIES!!!
6.Be polite to visitors (not rude!!!)
-a.k.a. not cursing or throwing
7….WELCOME to our home!!!
Yvonne tried to warn Diego that his car would not make a good ice cream truck but Diego would not listen. He was determined. And an idiot. He went to Pavilions and spent all of his money on ice cream. Ice cream was more expensive than he had thought and that meant he would have to steal it. With a car full of ice cream, Diego was ready to sell. He drove to Beverly Hills, rolled down his window and yelled “Ice cream, ice cream, it’s hot out and you want ice cream.” He was discouraged when no one came over to his car. So he yelled louder. After four hours of driving around and yelling, Diego discovered that even though he had the air conditioning on in his car, all of the ice cream in his trunk had melted.
Diego went home feeling like a failure. He stuffed as much of the melted ice cream in the freezer as possible and tried to ignore Yvonne’s judging eyes. She was pissed because she and the kids would have to eat melted ice cream for dinner and ice cream that was not in its most frozen state really put Yvonne on edge. Diego buried his head in a pillow and thought about suicide. What else could he do? After being fired from Tony’s Pizza & Fish due to the bad economy, it had been impossible for Diego to find work. Everything had gone to shit. People were getting shot right in front of his house and the cops never did anything about it.
There was absolutely positively no hope. Or was there? Diego had an idea. He would start a security patrol service from his car! He would protect the people that donated to his service and then he would feed his family more than ice cream. Maybe the elevated crime was a good thing after all. Within no time Diego was collecting dues from his neighbors, driving a town car with tinted windows and speaking Italian. Despite the occasional gunshot wound and trip to the emergency room, Diego and his family lived happily ever after.
I remember watching the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan repeatedly as a child. There is a part in the movie where Tinkerbell is dying and the only way to save her is to show your belief in fairies by clapping really hard. At this part of the movie, they break the fourth wall and ask the viewers to clap if they believe. I used to clap until my hands were sore. Tinkerbell’s light would be blinking out and then due to my clapping it would grow brighter and brighter. If my mom was around, I would bring her over to the t.v. and make her clap too. With both of my parents in the movie business, I understood at a young age that once something was recorded onto a tape, it was the same every time you watched it. There was just something about the “what if” that pushed me to clap. What if this movie was different? Could I really risk killing Tinkerbell? She was a bitch but she didn’t deserve to die. As I grew older I became more skeptical and I knew it was silly to clap. No matter what I did, Tinkerbell was going to survive. I knew that. But I never stopped clapping. A few months ago I saw “He’s Just Not That Into You” and was disturbed by whatever plastic surgery it was that Jennnifer Aniston had done to her face. It looked like she had a nose job and her face looked swollen from collagen. I saw the movie again last week and the first thing I thought when I saw Jennifer Aniston was: why hasn’t the swelling gone down yet? It had been a few months. Surely she could not still be swollen. And why didn’t she change her nose back to the way it was? Surely she doesn’t like what she has done to her face. And then of course I thought: duh. It’s a movie and it won’t change. I knew that was the reality but I couldn’t stop myself from wishing before all of her scenes that she would look normal again. Maybe if I tried clapping…