To Whom it May Concern:
I will get right to the point. Please, and you know who you are, do not encourage me to draw. Not that I don't like your comments; in fact, your comments make me weep with joy, but I'm weak and undisciplined and your words go to my head. I come home after work and get out a beer and if I can afford it some good scotch and round up my colored pencils, pens and charcoals and make a mess. As I sit there in a haze of alcohol and lots of pencils, it occurs to me I should be attempting something useful, like setting up my new IPhone which I've had for over a week, but have yet to record a voicemail message or transfer my music or email or photos (pitiful I know). Or continuing in this vein, I should be looking for a real job like I keep threatening, instead of dragging my ass home every night at 10:30 and staying up to all hours...drawing.
So I put away my colored pencils.... but then something catches my eye, and I can't help myself again.
For instance, on Monday, in the Health & Wellness section of the LA Times, the focus was on service animals. I had just written about a service dog whose job it was was to make his master laugh. What caught my attention this time, and which I didn't know, is that there is very little oversight for service animals: anyone can buy a service vest online and slap it on their dog, or, as Karen Ravn wrote in "What Service Animal Means," slap it on their "cats and rats and parrots and ferrets and llamas [!] and iguanas [!] and at least one snake." This was too much; the next night I had to spend a few more hours drinking and making a mess, the results of which I present to you here.
I know I should probably end by saying thank you to those whose kind words have gotten me to this precipice, but please don't take that as an invitation for more encouragement; it's the last thing I need.
The Rat's Nest
Service Animals in Focus