I’m not very good at expressing my thoughts into words, which might be why I draw how I feel about Arsenal games instead of writing how I feel about Arsenal games. But, today marks one year of doing Poorly Drawn Arsenal. To say that I’m humbled by the support I’ve received would be an understatement. I started this as way to reach out of my comfort zone and share my dumb drawings and thoughts online. 365 days later and my dumb drawings have been viewed over 6 million times. I am officially out of my comfort zone. You guys rock.
Anyway, here’s a quick look back at some of my worst drawings.
The Best Of The Worst
My first drawing
Alexis Sanchez and Dani Alves with his “tattoos”
An attempt to draw Ozil’s eyes in detail. I stopped drawing halfway through due to fear and the possibility of recurring nightmares.
Characters: Dani Sanchez, Elliot Gilbert (friends), Levi Corbin (Yeah You Will Guy), Cassandra July, Maggie Banks, Isabelle Wright, etc.
Summary: After an afternoon standing in the rain waiting for his so-called friends, Kurt realizes that his life doesn’t make sense anymore. Not the way he thought it did. He embarks on his junior year with an onslaught of opportunities, and
This is for @vcg73 honestly. I promised it to her a year ago, wrote two chapters, and then had a lot of drama. So I’m posting this in hopes of forcing myself to outline it and write at least a solid short story of it.
Part One: IN WHICH KURT BAKES TOO MANY MUFFINS
The rain came down in thick, forceful sheets. Like a wall on each side of the large, black umbrella, a force field cutting Kurt off from those who hurried by. After a moment or two (during which he’d been bumped into, thrice, proving that the force field wasn’t worth much), Kurt stepped off to the side of the sidewalk to let the other New Yorkers pass. He’d only stepped back to begin with because he’d gotten splashed by a taxi zipping by.
He was wet, and he was cold. His jaw was beginning to feel loose in his head, as though if he didn’t keep it tightly clenched, it would fly on its own, chattering madly. It was cold for the season. A sudden dip in the weather, although not enough to produce ice. Funnily enough, the sun had been out, for a time, when Kurt had strolled up. Gradually, though, the sun had hidden itself away, leaving only black skies, cold winds, and a torrent of seemingly endless rain.
For the first few minutes, Kurt had wondered if he were late, or early, or if the others had come to this spot in Kurt’s old neighborhood and immediately gone inside somewhere. His texts went unanswered, however. If they had gone off together, they had said nothing. Kurt suspected, though, that not one of them—Rachel, Santana, Brittany, Blaine, Sam, Artie, or even Mercedes or Tina—ever had any plan of showing up here today.