I went underneath the bRidge last night. Its such an empty place. I wonder where all those people came from in the painting?

I was thinking last night. I was thinking, "all these things underneath this bridge, (i.e., plastic forks, soup tins, grocery cart wheels, broken vhs camera, metal crate, bottles, stones), all of it, all of it left-over, the remnants of someone's desperate hour or hours, someone's shadowy escape. why do I find myself looking at this trash. but is it trash? it was once touched by human fingers. Why do I find myself picking up a piece of ripped clothing stained with dry blood, tucking it into my sketch folder? Its so empty underneath here, its so rocky, so dark and lonely." All I knew was that I needed to be there. I need to sometimes be there, to wait there, to lean against the wall there. It is like some monastary. It just feels good to be out and to watch the world, even the lonely world, or lost civilization(s) underneath the bridge.

I was thinking. I walk to look. I was thinking. Whenever one goes to walk, something will happen to them, a person will stop you in your tracks. I was stopped. His name was roB. He said, "do you got 50 cents for my friend here who needs to get home?" After checking my pockets, I said, "No, I don't. I use my money for paint. I usually don't have any money on me." Rob and his friend asked me, "What do you paint?" I told them, "I paint people." Rob's friend responded, "You can make a lot of money doing that!" Rob said, "Hey man, do you think you can design my tatoo?" I said, "Maybe."

Rob's friend left. It was just me and Rob. I've seen Rob around, just never spoke with him. He said, "Why do your drawings look like that, like broken people?" I said, "Its just what happened when I was drawing. Sometimes I am not always in control. I feel more free drawing like this." We then drew some windows on this train I drew earlier. He said, "I am f... drunk, hope you don't mind ... I work too much, I have no time."

That was it really. He looked drunk. His head was hanging. He spilled his orange soda and yelled, "Oh shit!"

I've been passing in and out of consciousness, whatever this means.