005

"My bedroom walls were in serious need of redecoration, and I do mean serious. The previous color was peach, for crying out loud. Peach has never been a good color for walls, never. Plus, there was an unsightly hole where I had put my elbow through the wall in a fit of rage years prior. I'm lucky I didn't connect with a stud; I had some pretty good force going on that one. So my work was cut out for me.

"I had visions in my head of the most brilliantly decorated walls in history..."

004

"The next day I got a call from my buddy Elroy. He was trying to set up a night out, and even though I knew it was going to end up at the Ole Piper, I reluctantly agreed. I tried to tell him about my startling revelation from the day before, but that conversation headed nowhere fast. I should have known better and just saved my breath. I suppose I was hoping for a spontaneous evolution in the phone habits of the North American male. No dice. So with a few hours to go until the promise of tap beer and pizza toppings past their prime, I set out to commence a project I'd had on hold for a few weeks. Grabbing my keys and CD wallet, I hustled down the sidewalk to my car, unexpectedly eager for a trip to the hardware store."

[In real life, the Ole Piper has excellent pizza. Just so you know.]

003

"The thing about it was that everyone thought he would get better. They had him on so many pills that something had to happen. It seems the only thing medication was good for, in his case, was to keep him lingering around. His funeral was sad not because he died, but because he suffered. If you ask me, you can blame those pills as much as the disease.

"Anyway, it's not like Seymour and I were joined at the hip or anything. I only mention him because finding the key to controlling my emotions was kind of a red-letter day for me."

002

"Breathing in is the single greatest thing I know. It goes beyond the simple fact that my life would be impossible without it, inhaling is a friend, taken for granted thousands of times a day and yet always there to sustain you and refresh you whenever you stop to think about it. Exhaling is the very last thing you will ever do in this world. Breathing out is panic, breathing out is decay, BREATHING OUT IS DEATH.

"Last year, at my cousin Seymour's funeral, I opened my eyes to the truth about respiration. Whenever I was on the verge of breaking down, when I could feel the lump rising in my throat and the faintest of quivers in my lower lip, I simply breathed in. The effect was sudden and surprising, in that I found the strength to control my emotions without fail. Breathing in separated me, both emotionally and physically, from my cousin Seymour.

"By managing to do what he ultimately failed at, I kept myself from having to join him in the casket. I imagine that when you're dead you cry for everyone that you've left alive. A lot."

001

"faithful petition
by Nick Lee"

[Title suggested by random word generator.]

Here's the idea: I've reserved the remaining pages in my current Moleskine for self-portraits, and maybe some EDM sketches. I went out and bought this new one, and I'm going to write a book. I'll be drawing scenes, objects, and people from my life in the same way I have been, only now I'm going to write a fictional story around them. A graphic novel? Yeah, but more of an impromptu graphic novel, since I won't be writing the story until the drawing is in place. Some ground rules:

1. The text has to follow and be related to the imagery.
2. The story must not parallel the events of my life that made me draw the drawing.
3. The drawing subjects must not be selected based on where I want the story to go.

So there it is. Hopefully I can get this to run about 300 pages or so, but we'll see how it goes. Stay tuned!