My 500th doodle.
Me and my one and only brother, when we still ran wild, with the Gulf of Mexico to our backs. He turned Thirty last month, can’t wrap my head around it still. I’ve grown taller than him, but he’ll always be my big brother. He’s got a reputation for being quiet, but I think he just chooses his words very carefully, always respected that about him. I believe in him, and have pride in him, always.
Happy Thirty Joey.
My dad taught me to ride a bicycle down this sidewalk. There’s a lot more shade.
How To Hang A Warhol by Little Joy.
Got my palms read. Among many things, she told me I had a terrible energy about me, weighing down. Said she’d lift it, but I told her to leave it right there.
A for affort.
Never the place, always the people.
Duncan the navigator. George the poet. Drew the holiday. Ashley the dancer. Alexis the Sun. Jacquelynne the Italifornian. Colby the certain. Christina the welcoming. Mike the noble.
My Dad, Montreal, September 1982 on a motorcycle trip. Only twenty-three here, but already married four years, and already a father. Makes me wonder sometimes what the hell I’m doing. Don’t think there was ever a time he wasn’t invincible. Nor will there be, and thats why hes my Dad.
Happy Fathers Day Dad.
Love,
Kyle.
This is a photograph I took of my friend Drew. His beard is filled with wisdom.
Taken in Chicago, Illinois, at Lollapalooza 2011. I’d tell tales of the adventure but I don’t want to break my poor sweet mother’s heart.