Website: LIVE!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, now we are live. Excited! Nervous! Down like $400! Fingers crossed it's worth it!

My first sculpture is complete, titled Again. I made it with a broken bottle and crayola clay. It was hell. Lessson learned: crayola is not the way to go. I've taken some photos, but they're not quite right. I need a better set up before I can share it here. I have two other sculptures I am working on and am making steady progress with. I have also been mapping out a sculpture series.

After combing through the photos I have taken and shared here, I know it's time to start snapping pictures again. I want to continue both of the collections I have posted, it's just a matter of finding the right places and needing someone to lend a hand.

Writing, writing, writing. I am going to finish Best Man today. Or else I'll do something terrible to myself (don't worry, this is just for motivation). I'll close my car door on my hand. This is now set in stone.

For those who do not know: Descent is my current writing project, a collection of short horror stories. Here is a little teaser of the contents (all are ugly working titles):

• Flow: three young adults trapped with no water

• Best Man: a workplace nusiance escalates...everything

• Mask maker: masks, masks, masks, masks. Thats it.

• Skin: average conflict avoidant person being forced to face conflict (you'll never believe what happens next) (I cried) (and puked a little too) (and peed my pants)

• Likely 1-3 other stories yet to be developed.

With these projects taking the majority of space in my brain, I haven't done much in terms of poetry or illustration. I've tinkered with the idea of doing multimedia projects which combines all the afformentioned types of art. I've been thinking of houses a lot, thematically speaking. I have two loose poetry collections I am working on SLOWLY. Learning the art of dollhouse and miniature making would likely be helpful with future projects.

With all of that said, I thought it would be fun to celebrate the website being up by sharing a poem from one of these collections! I hope you enjoy.

H. Salt

The Hand That Feeds

You aren't getting back

the underwear you let me wear home.

I’ll blame you for it. 

I’ll blame you for the breadcrumbs

that made me fall in love

and I’ll blame you for the loaf

I was able to make from it when

I cut myself open, let myself bleed

for you, always for you, the blood,

into the crumbs, making something disgusting

that I really shouldn’t call bread, but

a starving man will eat anything—

and I suppose I can't actually blame you

for things I did so willingly.