ME-      My first book bought just for me was the Giant Golden Book of the Illiad and the Oydyssey illustrated by Alice and Martin Provensen.  It changed, or reinforced, my life.  The image above is of Menelaus about to settle things with Paris.  For sheer imagery of ancient, super-cool warfare nothing could have been better for a young boy who already had a history fixation.     .       I have always carried this image with me.  No other artwork, artifact or story has ever conveyed concentration on the job at hand as well as this does.  Now that I do a search comma the  above picture is of Paris.  No matter.  I got the idea at a young age.      Mom and Dad gave me an acoustic git-tar today.  It has electric strings but that will be fixed as soon as I get home to Austin.  Drawing of a neurotic, sexy, dangerous rabbit tuning an instrument on a Fulton seawall will follow.      I have been using internet images since I don't have a scanner.  I think my site is almost bette

     Here I am rockin' out while waiting for laundry in Bastrop.  Slim Rhodes is playing, and I am being a public nuisance.  This is how I wait for clothes to finish cycling.  I never pay to dry them, unless I am wearing emergency (end of the basket) trousers.  They are size 34 and do no justice to my slim hips and arrogant bearing.      Greg is pissed off because he A). does not like Bastrop and B). does not like me.  One of my readers asked about him and because I told her I will tell you.  Greg was a tough, handsome stud who was cruel to animals.  About 1984, in Fort Worth, he tried to poke a kitten out from under a chair so he could shoot it, and yes, he had been drinking.  He used the butt of a 10 gauge side by side to do so, his great-grandfather's, but it was well-worn and the lock slipped and blew his head off.       He is now a sub-demon and cannot move on unless he comes up with a replacement.  He picked me because of my demonstrated instability and depressiv

     While drinking much coffee at Starbucks, my friend Katherine received a a call from one of the gang.  He wanted us to meet him at Opa's, a coffee place down Lamar a ways.  It is next to Bead It, a bead shop I look into to see if I can find useful bling for my belt projects.  I did not want to go but after Kate told me to about four times and promised to buy me a coffee I went.      I am glad I did.  Opa's is a great place with lots of atmosphere and a place to smoke outside, unlike Starbucks where we are not allowed to smoke but do anyway.  We met Bryan and congratulated him on his recent birthday.  He is a hell of a smart and nice person and it is an honor to know him.  While everyone was gossiping away I started a picture of me sitting under the oak tree drinking coffee.  The above is the first attempt, soon abandoned.  Into the recycle bin it goes.      Next attempt.  It just does not work for me and I decided to try again.  Static, pointless, dull.

     So this little dog I found, a Shih-Tzu, was an adorable, happy little thing that moved into my house and my life like she had been there always.  She nosed the cats, ate what I fed her, and slept next to me for three nights.  Monday I took her to check and see if she had been chipped.  I was certain that such a valuable and good little dog had a microchip implant.      She did not.      I was able to place her at a no-kill shelter where the pretty girl at the desk assured me that such a dog would be adopted as soon as they put her up for it, which would be the 30th.  The male attendant placed a leash on her and started to lead her into the room where a hundred unseen dogs were barking.  I stopped them and petted her one last time.      "Good bye, Mopsie"  I said to her.  She wagged her tail as she was led away.      I was back in the car and starting to drive away when the enormity of the crime committed against this lovely animal hit me.  As soon as she becam

     I lifted this drawing from Graffo whilst he was occupied elsewhere.  Such  subtlety.   steve @_livingdog - Instagram

\      Very cold last night, and the wind started ripping my canvas off the top of the trailer.  I was out in shirtsleeves tying it and I knew I would get sick.  I did.  Speed was of the essence as I only had a little time before I had ripped tarp all over the river bottoms.      I am sick, and this is about as interested in this drawing as I am going to get.  I put myself to sleep last night reading De Quincey's essay on murder.  Good stuff.  I stayed in my shed til late, listening to 101.1 Sun Radio, Austin's best station for Outlaw country, Rockabilly and sundry others.  My guitar work is sounding smoother, if not good.      I was buried under cats this morning.      The answer to the title, is, of course, obvious! 

     Lion by my brother.  I think he is good enough that I may quit posting these, I don't need my readers realizing what a trained professional can do with things like "ink" and "realism".

      I guess I am not the first guy to think about drawing athletic, violent, stuck-up bunnies with a civic conscience.  I found this on Cartoon Brew and it is something else. Weird, self-righteous, racist, dead wrong about what pushovers those Japs were gonna be and strange on every other level.  Outstanding anthro bunny!      Everybody's favorite psychotic gay rabbit.  Well, that was easy.  Now we gotta win the peace! Eh,...Whats up, Doug?  

...          Here is a sketch for a work called "May 3" by my brother, Graffo.  Check him out on Facebook.   steve @_livingdog - Instagram

     "Oscar", I said, "Was Greg in here this morning"?        He looked around, embarrassed.  He sorta coughed, sighed, and said, "Why, no, Billy, I haven't seen him today".      I held a necklace against the light.  Lying bastard, I thought.  Oh well, this is the best place in town.  He is bound by some sort of ethics.  Never mind I saw the familiar truck pull out of Oscar's with two people in it, I'll deal with my erstwhile friend later.  I admired the gleam of the gold and enamel against my shining red fur.  Lovely.      "Here you go,"  I said.  "I'll take it".       Bunnies love shiny things.  And the world loves a handsome Rabbit!      I can write fiction, I just don't want to.  I finished "Parson's Pleasure" by Roald Dahl this morning, and 35 years on it is still the most cold-blooded story I have ever read.  What a fucking genius he was. 

       Farkle is a fast moving game similar to poker played with dice.  I played last night with my friends Ed and  Stork.  Stork used to be a member of Retarted Elf, a dancer, and Ed is Collings Guitars top finish man.  They are great guys but cutthroat at games.  I walked out with 10 bucks after losing all day.  Both these guys listen to the best music.        Farkle related violence is on the rise!

          The turn of the century Gang Wars on the Colorado river!  Featuring the Goofers, the Why-ohs, the Five Pointers, the Plug Uglies, the Car Barn gang, the Peep-o-the-Day Boys, Mose, the Dusters, and, of course, the Dead Rabbits!      Stand by for history at it's very Furriest!

  Just Fucking Awesome.      This is an Orb spider that has taken up residence outside my slide-out window.  This one has the remains of the male stuck to it's back.  These things are so lovely and so sinister.  Spiders are my allies.

     Saturday night I got Jacked Up and went a-venturing into the pasture.  I grabbed a pair of combat shorts and, with my kriss and old Colt, went looking for trouble.  There, of course, was none.  I was just practicing moving through the tangle like the predator I used to be.  Knowing it was safe made it all that much more fun.  I got as far as the river without tangling ass with anything, so, thoroughly pleased with myself, went home and got dressed.  (The rain started as I was quartering the area, adding to the thrill).      Gonna run through the jungle!

      My time in the Corps was brief but eventful.  Although I was Infantry, Anti-tank, (0351) I spent my time in D.C. doing foolish bullshit like the Silent Drill Team.  Very occasionally we were permitted to go play Marine out at Quanico.  Here I am about to be de-reveried by Staff Sgt. Kirby.  I loved being a U.S. Marine, but I hated my duty station.  If there was not going to be fighting, I would just a soon not be Marine enlisted.      I was at my most beautiful then!

     Kicked off FurAffinity Facebook last night.  Oh well, la di da.  I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did.  I did not realize that so many furries are children.  I thought it a more sophisticated perversion.  I don't have access to a scanner today so I can't post a drawing, which would be salt water related.       I have received a communique from AdSense accepting my application for advertising.  I thought I was in violation of every rule they had except I don't, so far, do pornography. Maybe they don't vet these blogs until they accept, or what have you.      I braved the ferocious heat to go check out guitars at the local pawn shop.  It is a place of human flotsam and expensive jetsam.  The guitars were nice but twice, cost wise, what I see in Austin.  We have a lot more musicians going broke, I would guess.  My friend Jason Wasner sent me a synthesizer composition of his that is so good I am stunned he is not a professional musician, at least full-tim

     My shed, with unfinished carport roof.  With no roof I can see the stars better so it works for me.        Kuato.  He showed up one July 5th skinny and loud.  He used to claw at me if I did not put his food dish down fast enough.  He is now fat and very greedy for the pettings.      This is my shed, with Spiculus gazing lugubriously back at us.  I started this almost a year ago.      Thomas Jonathan Jackson, Jr.  He burst from cover and came at me from my right flank, my first night on the property, August 2006.  I was reading about Chancellorsville.  He had no skin on his back leg.  Fish and milk fixed him up.      Daytime book nook.  With a breeze it is very pleasant.  Without one it is just nice.      My stage and shed.         Trash day.      Mingo.  He was hanging from his back legs on a wire fence when I met him.  He is my trouble cat.  I love him as much as every other cat I have.      Monster.  A large, agr

     This is one of my favorite drawings and I am putting it up so show stylistic changes since Sept. 2012.   The depiction of the ruthless General Lepus is a style I am going to try to get back to.  He is competent but ambitious.

     Jack, the day before the big fight.  24 years old, the most Jewish of the Heavyweight champions, (Max Baer was 1/4 on his grandfather's side, but Dempsey was a quarter on his grandmother's, making him more Jewish according to the Talmud) and a Mormon.  In the background stands his totally amoral manager, Jack "Doc" Kearns, and an anxious sparring partner.  On this day Jack Dempsey is the most warrior looking man who ever lived, even more than the redoubtable Steve Reeves or Woody Strode! jesus he was a handsome man and what i want to know is how do you like your blue-eyed boy mr death?                                                       e.e.cummings      This is thrown in to show that I can draw feet.  My copier is eight by ten but my paper is a bit larger and it tends to get cut off at the bottom.  I will work on this but I draw on the entire page and I need to remember this as I usually get carried away.       No one understan

     My two halves are not speaking again.  Not real surprising, considering how they get along at the best of times.  The odd thing is that neither has had human contact for nigh on to 21 years, so it must be an image problem.  For whom, one may very well ask, as one may very well.  For no one, of course, these two fools are in a vacuum and don't realize it yet.  One likes shiny things and electric guitars, the other likes weapons and electric guitars.  But which one is the smart one?  Very simple, either is neither and neither is either.  Clear as a mountain lake!

     Nothing works as it should. Everything is all fucked up.  I am beset with problems that no one else has ever had to deal with.  I am unique and the universe is here to torture me.  I am alone.  I have been singled out.  I am the most unfortunate individual ever.  Everyone hates me.  I hate them back.  Only my cats love me.  I only love them.  This sucks.  

Confrontation      I got bored with doing sequential and the alcohol didn't help a fucking thing, oddly enough. 

      Looking great is within the reach of us all!  Bling, various thrift stores.  Hair and face, God.      The essence of macho!!

     A long dead friend was at my side during a dreamwalk last night.       He says that as things get worse it seems unbearable, that as the pain and fear build to unbearable then it is all over, all clarity and light.      "Light", he said, "light we cannot see with eyes, for there is so much that our senses are too vulgar and crude to deal with.  You still live, and you have your task still before you".  He paused, and lit one of my smokes.  "We can't get these over here.  And", he said while eyeing me head to toe, " you will find that staying in shape is just a matter of when you felt and looked your best"!       I woke while his laughter still rang in my head.  Because of the unseasonable cold, I was buried in cats this morning who had no sympathy with bunnies in general and me in particular, and were demanding their breakfast.  Quite right.  I stepped over the night's headless mouse and bestirred myself in the kitchen for m

        Here is David of Goliath fame.  He is in the act of becoming the most celebrated sniper in history.  This is the Dempsey/Willard match of it's time.  I think David was a very flawed man and I marvel that he is so highly thought of. Saul ordered his servant to kill him, and then David executed that man in a stunning act of hypocrisy and sanctimonious arrogance, after all David had been in war against Saul.  He murdered Uriah so that he could have his wife.  This is why I don't trust the values of the Old Testament, the God of it is petty and unstable and inconsistent.  

     A very lovely tigress stopped me in Hobby Lobby and admired my belt, while I was admiring her.  A vision.  She was very beautiful.  I gave her a thing off the belt, and she seemed to like it.  I have not talked to such a dreamboat in years.      Oh God I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on thy heart.

     I read this in something by someone smart, probably Isaac Asimov or one of the other usual suspects.  A "friend" challenged me on the mechanics of gravity, like I had any idea of what I was talking about, and pointed out that there were things afoot at the quantum level.  Whoa!  Game, set and match right there.      There is no spoon.

     Here we see the very heart of the beast.  If nothing happened, then why should I go to this site? An excellent question, one worthy of a well reasoned and thoughtful response.      We are alone in a frightful place of pain, desolation and sorrow.