When I visited my Mum a few months ago I had a rummage through some boxes of scrap paper, notes, and ideas scrawled on cereal boxes she had stored for me. As a compulsive list maker of many years now I often find old lists that make no sense and make me wonder where my brain was at when I wrote them.
I vaguely remember doodling this during some team meeting while I was a postie in New Zealand The plan was to leave it lying around where the Managers would find it to perturb them. I can't remember why I ended up keeping it.
That guy on the far left creeps me out.
When I was living in Hamilton I was keen to make an anthology of comics written by me and drawn by other people. Like a lot of things it never happened. I can remember a few of these stories but I can't remember who 'Deb' was and why I hated her.
It's my handwriting but i don't remember writing this. It's not even a proper shopping list. Why did I do this? What's wrong with me?
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