I have lured you here with the promise of free nudes, but just like that stranger with candy when you were five, I ain't delivering. Maybe he did with the nudes part. In that case I am so sorry. Childhood victimization is a horrible thing. Look here.
Anyway, instead of cleaning the house like I told the significant other, I am giving you all something much more meaningful. I am giving you my art- my metaphorical soul pixelated and stylized for your viewing pleasure. Emphasis on pleasure. Ooh yeah, now we're talking, big boy.
I give you:
Le Art Michel.
This. Ah, reminiscing about this day makes me quiver like the Virgin of Delphi. It was a brisk, snowy-yet-clear, morning. Fresh snowfall blanketed the usually naked desert. Every photon emitted by Ra was buzzing with energy (literally) and the air was so clear; without any faint distortion. I needed a subject. I fumbled clumsily with my mittens, trying to find the perfect object; the perfect angle! I was spinning in frantic confusion and frustration and anger when, alas, my eyes fall to my muse- my beloved dog. He was glorious. Hunched over in his little sweater. Perfect arch! Perfect form! He was dropping a massive deuce, thankfully, and I was able to capture multiple stills.
I had just seen a film that inspired me. I wanted to become a street artist. I opened up photoshop, threw this beast in there and in a few short minutes I produced what may become the next influential image in the street art scene. My dog; pinching a loaf.
More you say?
This is a self portrait. It took months to complete; at first I was hesitant about the end product. I didn't want to publish it. I had a lot of negative reception from various local art galleries. One lady asked if I was mentally retarded. I said ''No, you whore, my face actually looks like that.'' Regardless, I am proud. This is who I am. This is your faithful (pun intended) blogger. Imagine me when you read my words. Imagine me when you grocery shop. Imagine me when you make the most delicate of love.