I've recently been wondering about why a pacifist vegan would be so obsessed with the iconography of violence. It's true though, whenever I'm faced with an empty hand my first thought to fill it is a switchblade or .22 caliber snub nose. I'm a musician but I don't like composing instruments, a painter but I don't like painting brushes. Seems the things I love are the last things I'm willing to draw. Perhaps it's the taboo; guns are so abhorrent to me that they've developed some forbidden appeal. Then again I find robots and monkeys in no way disagreeable but I'm never shy about drawing them. Perhaps my lack of ownership of these things is accountable. Maybe one day my robot and pet monkey will be playing with my Luger P08 and I'll have lost interest in drawing any of them. Yet, I still draw a lot of girls and I am now the proud owner of one (shout out to the Mrs.). She owns me, at least. Well, maybe that's it, perhaps I have an immutable self-effacing neurosis that guns, knives, monkeys, and robots will come to their senses and leave me.
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