Affect: Incomplete Okay

I made it to the Hollywood Poets open-mic on time.  I dabble with on time.  Usually, I know how long it will take to get somewhere, and how long it will take to get ready to go.  I often neglect variables and underestimate my ability to thoroughly procrastinate .

[If this were Comic Lorna: Add image of restaurant from parking spot?]

I was early.  Hollywood Poets headquarters, Catch 56, had a few customers posted up with plates to salivate to and paper napkins to wipe the delicious smells off their lips.  One of the evening’s hosts, Ideas Aubrey, was setting up the stage.  I signed up as #1 in the notebook left open on the front table.  The table was sticky.  I ordered a soda and filled a styrofoam cup full of soda and then full of whiskey.

I asked Ideas what time the open mic would start.  90 minutes.  I went for a walk.

I decided to turn left on Hollywood Blvd. after a brief pause after the door swished closed behind me.   I had driven there from the freeway, right.  I walked left.  It was chilly.

[Building sketches]

As I walked, I reminded myself that I was in search of a new notebook to write and draw in.  A small art store would be a great place to find one.

I passed a CVS and an Aarons Brothers.  Blah.

I wanted to go to Blue Rooster, an art store on Vermont/Sunset that I had frequented when I lived in LA.  A place I think about now that I live away from it.

They have/had spiral-bound 9″ x 12″ notebooks for like $13.  Buy one get one free.  OOOoooooooo

The walk…

Hotels and construction hoods.  Store fronts loudly sliding their bars in front of their windows.

Bars and restaurants.  Harvard and Stone.  I’ve been there before.  Bribe the bouncer.  I never got the nerve, but I saw it happen a lot while standing in line.  They have great dance performers, and I’ve seen great sounding bands on their line-ups.

I pass Big Mama’s & Papa’s Pizzeria.  My ex (one of my exes, ugh)  lives on this street.  Or used to.  I don’t know, and that’s fine by me, but I remember.  I remember we would walk from his place to Vermont.  I’m close.  The open-mic starts in an hour.  I figure I have time.  Almost there.

The streets become familiar enough to fill in the blanks in the head-map I was constructing.  I was near Blue Rooster.  It was 8PM.  I could make it there.  Each block convinced me of how near I was to my new notebook, while also reminding me of all the blocks that existed between me and it.

Around 35 minutes after my initial departure from Hollywood Poets, I made it to Blue Rooster.  It was open.  They did not have my notebook.  Well, they had a bunch of them, but they were for someone’s particular order.  The helpful clerk (?) let me know that, in case I had seen them.  I hadn’t.  Oh, I looked.

Sometimes when I walk into an art store or a comic book shop or a music venue, I remember how curious and uncertain I was when I walked in to such a space for the first time.  Where do I start?  What is around?  What is this?  Where is that?  What do I do?

I felt something different when I entered Blue Rooster.  A confidence and intention that I’ve gotten used to and am proud to own.

This kept me steady in my coat and sweater and sweat.  All of me was dripping.  My hands steady.

I knew what I wanted, and they didn’t have it.
I made it work.
I like my new notebook.
I know I need spiral bound, and I knew I needed a new notebook.  The one I’d been writing in only had a few pages left, and if I don’t have room to write and draw I tend to lose momentum, or misuse momentum and run into a wall and then have no place to write about the wall I’ve run into.

Am I the wall?

I tend to forget what grounds me when I’m bouncing around.  When I’m bouncing, I forget where I am and where I want to go.  I need a notebook.

I realize, now, that maybe this blog is a different kind of notebook that is important to keep…

My walk back to Hollywood Poets was faster than my walk away from it.  The event hadn’t officially started yet.

I had time to draw.

The pressure of the first page of a new notebook.  I accept.


la poets 8x11 clean w

The above drawing is cleaner than my actual journal drawing (which is more evident in the version a few paragraphs down).  

I wonder what I’m going for.  Do I want to show my journal, or do I want to show a revised, cleaned-up version of it?  

Clean is hygienic.  

Though I’m down for hygiene, I’m pretty fucking messy.  

My inclination is to make art that expresses such.  Thoroughly.  

There’s this chant for consistency in my head that has been helpful in the past.  Right now, I’m too green in this blog-writing again to seek consistency.  I don’t even know what I’m doing.

 I’ll seek consistency once I’ve figured out what I’m saying.  Thank you chant.  I’ll get back to you.

I like my more journal-source image evident drawing (below).  

On closer inspection, my proportions are way off.  While I was drawing it, I was mostly concerned about how I could use crosshatch to distinguish between the different textures of the black clothing and my purse.

I’m not sure about the aesthetic I want to pursue.  Though I’m down to publish pages from my notebook/journal, I’m also pretty invested in not sharing some of it.  Mostly, my notebook is private.  I also digitally draw all the time, and I don’t know what to say about what I’m working on.  Adding words will help grow the image, but maybe the image is gestating.

I don’t want to think about what to share and what to hide while I write and draw.  I just want to write and draw.  I’m so excited to have a new notebook on my first page!  Here’s a version of the image that includes the original drawing I traced for the above…

la poets 8x11w

I forgot how much I love drawing anonymously.  [My Monday “Progress” post will explore this sentiment more and in color.]

Observing with my pen.  Practicing shapes.  Remembering streets and driveways.  Parking meters, parked cars, parking spaces.  Street signs, business signs, windows, and neon lights.  Oh love it all so much, and I love to draw it.

Prob one of my favorite walks ever.  An important walk.  Unless I fuck this up…
I’m feeling inspired…

Hollywood Poets was great!  TranSe Carter and Ideas Aubrey create a friendly environment that emphasizes freedom of expression, artists as individuals, and the cultivation of an artistic community.

I have so much more to say about that walk and about that open-mic and about that day.  A new notebook came at a perfect time.  Mostly because it’s spiral bound.

Here’s the Lorna Comic that I didn’t choose for this week, but diddled out because I had the spiral space and mind

sometimes stop p

See you next Friday!

Find me on
Facebook: @LornaAlkanaArt and @LAWordSalon
Twitter: @LornaPhone and @LAWordSalon
Instagram: @Lornaphone and @LAWordSalon


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