This evening I swung by Macaroni Grill for dinner. The food wasn't bad. But the great part was the paper tablecloth and actual Crayola crayons (not those waxy, ineffective crayons like you get at California Pizza Kitchen).





I drew one of my signature aliens; it's amazing how something this simple and effortless fucks with people. Sticking it to the normals!





My waitress asked the requisite question: "Are you an artist?" Which, of course, depends on one's definition of art. I told her I liked to draw.

Here's a previous alien drawing, done in an actual crayon store:

Here I am in a Crayola store busily sketching an extraterrestrial biological entity. (I have a decided weakness for blank paper, and will happily forego normal human conversation if someone loans me a pen.)





The thing about drawing in public: You get occasional weird looks. In this case, though, I think the kid watching was actually interested.





Here's the finished product. I'm not exactly sure why I enjoy drawing variations of the archetypal "Gray" alien, but it probably has to do with their iconic simplicity and anthropomorphosized sense of otherness.





I'm thinking of preparing an online sketch diary to help take the place of my old doodle gallery. Watch this space.