Adam passed out on our couch last Friday night. It was a multimedia festival.



It started out simple enough; a little acrylic paint on the toenails, "The Slapmeister" written on the ankle, you know, simple.





Then things, as they tend to do, began to get out of hand.



Way out of hand.



"I Cry 96 Tears"





There is a theme emerging here.





"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away"



A Bryce reference. I like it.







Green on red.



Then we went English major on his ass.

"Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?"

Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose."

-from "Is My Team Ploughing?"
By A.E. Housman



"When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry “ ‘weep!, ‘weep!, ‘weep”
So your chimney I sweep, and in soot I sleep."

-from "The Chimney Sweeper"
By William Blake





"Shall I Compare Thee To A Summers' Day"



One day he'll learn. Tisk, tisk.