When I started this blog I was hoping that it would serve as some kind of forum for discussion of subjects both serious and puerile. I don’t know. Maybe I’m flattering myself in thinking that my drawings could provoke some kind of a written reaction from people. Perhaps I’m delusional in assuming that if one is presented with a ludicrous illustration, then one would want to put one’s two cents in. Where every opinion is welcome and replied to with childish fervor and enthusiasm, PrettyGreenBullet provides the tiny spark required to ignite the infinite ridiculousness this world has to offer. So be ridiculous. For there’s no one here but us fruit loops.

7 Comments on “milk”

  1. Not delusional, just optimistic. I hear you. People these days are so rushed, that pausing for more than a “like” on fb is a big effort for them, let alone discussing anything of more meaning than a youtube parody. As for “Milk” (is that the name of the drawing with the flood?), well you may not have had this in mind when you drew it, but for me it carries nuances of an Electra complex backward, mother’s milk and all. And that’s my 2 cents :) For now.

    • Hmmm. Breast milk. I never really have anything much in mind when I draw these sketches. That’s why they are so open and begging for a story. So wouldn’t an Electra complex backwards be an Oedipal complex? See, now I see the drawing in a whole new light. And I start wondering about my relationship with my father. Eek!

    • It’s funny but I never thought of it as breast milk! Well, not a woman’s breast anyway. As to whose milk it is, at one point this morning I thought that the floating woman might just be a head attached to a fleshy chord attached to the standing woman’s left knee.

  2. Umbilical cord? Then her head could be floating in a pool of placenta fluid. So we still regress to childhood, to the source of our current alien self, and if we add the “backward-electra” complex, then we have a pretty mess on our hands. Lol. Ah, yes, the “backward-electra” complex is the opposite of loving your father, which is hating your mother. Yes, I know, a bunch of nonsensical psycho-babble, but why not?

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