Alex Delarge (again)



PS: My scanner is unavailable so I can’t post new drawings. In the meantime, I will post bad poetry.


“Goodness is something to be chosen. When a man cannot choose, he ceases to be a man. “the prison charlie

Alex Delarge, the poster boy for moral ambiguity. Quickly sketched last night with 3B, 5B, and two shades of orange. I was delaying sleep, like always.

When Alex had an eargasm

Currently reading Karen’s copy of A Clockwork Orange. I’m halfway through it now. Below is one of the lines that struck me most. Even with the Nadsat, I think it’s beautifully written.

“Oh it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh. The trombones crunched redgold under my bed, and behind my gulliver the trumpets three-wise silverflamed, and there by the door the timps rolling through my guts and out again crunched like candy thunder. Oh, it was wonder of wonders. And then, a bird of like rarest spun heavenmetal, or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now, came the violin solo above all the other strings, and those strings were like a cage of silk round my bed. Then flute and oboe bored, like worms of like platinum, into the thick thick toffee gold and silver. I was in such bliss, my brothers.”

Mr. Burgess, you’re a genius. You explained the greatness of music in five friggin’ lines.