- don’t erase the stuff you’ve already drawn, just make the layer invisible. if you’re anything like me then deleting in process sketches has a very light subconscious negative effect on how the drawing is turning out.
- don’t draw your sketches on white, especially if your brush is black. white is hard to draw on. change it to grey. trust me on this.
- if a sketch is almost there but not quite try mirroring it horizontally. the issues will be way easier to spot.
-if inking isnt your thing but you want outlines just paint your color over the sketch lines, then do the ink lines last.
- if you have lots of ideas but no patience with details like myself take to tiny tiny thumbnails. like im talking barely bigger than your thumb. it forces you to look at the whole picture and not just the details.
- if tiny doesnt work/you like detailing go opposite. draw REALLY huge and work your way through.
give me one day.
give me one day, and i’ll tell you all the interesting conspiracy theories, like the phantom time theory, which states that the dark ages didn’t happen and the year is actually 1719. i’m not crazy, and i don’t believe in them, but i think they’re the most interesting thing.
give me one day, and i can fill your head with every theory we have about multiple universes, about the giant perpetual storm on jupiter, how volcanoes were essential to life, how the moon was created, and a step by step walk through of the seconds following the big bang.
give me one day, and i’ll drive you to the best ice cream shop in the cutest little area that barely counts as a town.
give me one day, and i’ll show you the quote i jumped the fence onto the turf at my old high school to write on the stands, the old oak i love and a map of the stars that i look up at all the nights i don’t sleep. and i know that i keep talking about space, but all i know about is the universe and i never learned how to make small talk.
now i know that theories and the universe aren’t everyone’s forte, and maybe you’re lactose intolerant, and maybe you hate quotes and find trees boring.
give me one day. and if at the end of it you don’t Love me, i’ll let you go.
Hands down, Christmas was your favorite holiday out of the whole year. How could it not be? You loved everything about the holiday with all the festivities, time with all your loved ones, personalized gift giving, and the sparkling decorations. You were shocked when you found out that Newt had spent most of his by himself and from that moment on you swore that that would never happen again.
You smiled to yourself a little, remembering the time you surprised Newt with same freshly baked cookies while he slaved away over his manuscript. He was waist deep in papers, scribbling away with ink stains spotting his skin. He didn’t even notice you carefully walking down the stairs with a plate of cookies in your hands until the aroma filled the room. You’d always remember and love how his face lit up when he saw you.
you love a girl made of stardust
constellations splayed across bare skin
and with a supernova at her fingertips
she is the stuff of dreams
a shooting star that burns too bright
her wings are tattered and jagged
feathers frayed with years of neglect
you start to wonder if she will ever see herself
as you do
you love a nebula waiting to explode
to become a star
a girl waiting to soar
a phoenix waiting to rise
you love a girl rooted in the earth
made of iron and steel and healing
you love a girl with ghosts in her eyes
with a lion’s mane matted with blood and dirt
you love a girl so broke with guilt
that she scrubs her hands clean with blood that isn’t there
you love a girl with shoulders heavy with a burden way beyond her years
you kiss the scars anyway
she appreciates the offer and you cling to one another
in the hopes that her spirit stays with you both yet
you love in a time of chaos and war
you love in a time of uncertainty
you love in a time of children marching in boots
fashioned for soldiers ages apart
you love in a time of casualty counts like competition
one on top of the other
you love in a time that does not give you the luxury
you love you love you love
You’re vanilla candle, warm and sweet even on cold days and like a shot of sun to my heart. You were made by the stars and I, the moon.
my fingers aren’t pretty things dancing over piano keys; They’re spotted with ink and always cold but i touch your hands and feel the warmth of your stars. I’m good at watching the moon crawl across the sky but I look into your eyes and see galaxies and love bloom like flowers all around me . I see clouds kiss clouds and i feel it when you laugh or smile. Hearing you breathe as you fall asleep on my chest and i fall slowly everyday. I can taste the words I can’t say to you. I can feel it in my insides, radiating from my fucking chest but my mind isn’t charming, its tangled. I don’t want to keep it in my head either, it’s already muddled with bad thoughts. I don’t want to keep it in my hands so you won’t be overwhelmed. So where do I keep it? Where is a place love won’t hurt me?
Hey again! I finished Tucker, and I wanted him to join the party. Then I added Jazz so he wouldn’t be lonely. And THEN I just decided to group post them all. The black and white ones are my original pen drawings as they are in my sketchbook (the black spots are ink splatters because I shook my new pen to try to make it work… so that happened)
Here’s something exciting, we’ll soon get a new location and a new game to explore. And of course, a new soundtrack.
Interestingly, this song doesn’t seem to have made much of a dent in the music charts. It appears only as “Up and Coming” among the Decca Records catalog in the February 14, 1948 issue of Billboard.
The composer himself, Russ Morgan, also recorded his composition with Bob Eberly in 1946 with “Matinee” as the B-side. The record was released in 1948 with the Billboard review “Shallow schmaltzy orking [orchestra] may please some Morgan fans.“ and an overall rating of 63 (aka Satisfactory) on March 6, 1948.
The Ink Spots largely have the song to themselves.
Other songs do share the same title, but do not have the same lyrics. The Four Aces recorded an identically titled Brooks Arthur and Alan Lorber composition as the B-side to “Lonely Hill” in 1962. Hank Williams Jr. (not to be confused with his famous father) wrote and recorded another identically titled song for the MGM film A Time to Sing in 1968.
Left to right: Billy “Butterball” Bowen, Harold Francis (seated at piano), Bill Kenny, Herb Kenny, and Charlie Fuqua (with guitar)
The song itself is tinged with a bit of sadness, much like the lyrics. The group’s lineup had changed drastically through the years, but none so much as after Orville “Hoppy” Jones’ death.
Hoppy Jones was the “talking bass” who often repeated the lyrics in a lower voice on many of the songs. The lead tenor, either Bill Kenny or Ivory “Deek” Watson would continue the song until the end to complete the famous “Top & Bottom” format that defined many of their songs.
Jones had suffered from cerebral hemorrhages since June 1944 and collapsed onstage in October. His bass position would be replaced by Cliff Givens and permanently by Bill Kenny’s twin brother, Herb Kenny.
However, in-fighting in the group led to Kenny buying out Deek Watson’s share and kicking him out in 1944. Billy “Butterball” Bowen would become his replacement. Watson would form his own group as The Brown Dots. Only Fuqua remained from the original 1934 group. He too would leave in 1952.
Perhaps as an indication of the decline of traditional pop in favor for rock ‘n roll, the Ink Spots had their last No. 1 hits in 1946, eventually dipping down to Top 25. They would lose ground to doo-wop, a genre they inspired, and rockabilly.
This lineup would last until 1951 and be the last Ink Spots quartet to perform for Decca Records.
I beg you, eXit the cage of bone that guards
The remnants of what once was my heart
Do not stir eXcitement in these veins,
I have neither the will nor reserve to fight that hollow ache. You have laid claim to that which is not yours,
The bloody, raw criss-cross of memories
Etched into my being where only I belong.
The eXhalation of bitter yesterdays from broken lungs
Catch in the holes seared into my throat
From burning screams echoing in my chest.
I cannot eXplain the how or the why behind these haunted eyes
Only the when and the who to each silver laced scar.
You have tried over and over to brand yourself
A mark on me as if I were made to be owned
Rather than crafted of ethereal things meant to be set free.
But your eXhibition no more marks a spot in me
Than the hollow cries of night can lay claim
To the beauty of the fickle moon as it moves through the sky.