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About Traditional Art / Hobbyist KatelynFemale/Australia Group :iconmarty-and-tyran: Marty-And-Tyran
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Just like, my art ya know?





Today I feel sad.

Well, mostly every day I feel sad, for one reason or another. The reason could be so simple, yet so complicated and difficult to fix. What line of circumstances can be controlled to avoid sadness all together? God forbid someone knows the answer to that question…

I haven’t written in so very long a time. I don’t recall the last thing I wrote, other than a card or a post-it note at work. I haven’t truly written in so long a time. I used to love doing this – writing out my thoughts as they come. “Stream of consciousness” was my favourite style of writing – a haphazard journal that recorded my thoughts in a more in-depth way than an actual journal could.

You see, I’m here now. How-many-ever years it’s been since my last piece, and I’m at a loss. I don’t know where exactly I went wrong or why it’s not better now that my situation has improved. I don’t know why I always feel so nostalgic for what my life used to be, even though my life now is pretty-darn spectacular.

I suppose when I say “spectacular” I really mean rather mediocre. As far as work goes, I’m doing the same job I started 3 years ago and I’m still getting blamed for the mistakes even though the supervisor that was using me as her personal scapegoat has left. I work very little but earn a fairly good wage for it, but I don’t earn enough to buy a house or a car or even save enough money for a home loan. I don’t want to rent forever and I don’t want to wake up at 4.15am every morning for the rest of my life. I want more than this but I’m just too lazy to do it that I fear I will be stuck in this rut for a very long time.

It’s not like I DON’T want to be better, or more motivated. There are so many times in my past where people have used threats in an effort to motivate me into doing something that now they are merely empty-threats. I was never really happy with those situations that I never took them seriously – and for the most part, they were hollow threats anyway. “Lose weight or I’ll leave you” – that was my ex-boyfriend. I moved in with him when I was 18 and out of High School. I was skinny then, but with a job and free time and my own desires to accommodate me, I let myself go. It didn’t help that he was a shallow bastard about it. He would often tell me that we were going to diet together and eat better, but when it came to it, that skinny wanker was eating McDonalds 3 times a week because he was too lazy at work to get himself a proper meal.

That went on just short of 2 years – the relationship I mean. The shit part of it was about a year. The funny thing about it was the fact that we were actually engaged. In January of the year I was to turn 20, we were lying in bed and he asked my thoughts on marriage. “I see the concept of it, but I wouldn’t want to enter into that myself until I hit my 20s”. For some reason he decided that my statement was null, and he followed my answer with “Well, do you want to get married?” It was an ACTUAL PROPOSAL. I was lost for words, so all I said was “O…K… But let’s keep it on the down-low until my birthday.” He agreed, and no one ever found out until I broke up with him on the worst Wednesday of my life.

Ah, that Wednesday. I was babysitting my younger cousin while his parents and sisters went to Canberra. He was High School aged, but only in the lower years. For some reason he entertained the idea of using my credit card to buy himself over $400 worth of games off of Steam and the Sony Store. I figured it out while he was at school and called his father. I got my money back, and his parents made him pay me the $400 (plus his personal savings of $50) as punishment. Later that night when my ex got home from work, I said to him “You know that red-headed music teacher you work with? Yeah, you should kiss her.” I had said it seriously and I presume he was shocked, for he replied with “Really?” “Yep.” There was a pause after that, and a lump formed in my throat. “Do you still think there is no future for us?” I asked him. He was sitting on the green lounge, and I was leaning on the exercise ball. “Not really.”

“Me neither”

That was perhaps the hardest but best thing I have ever done for myself. I don’t hold it against him that he was the way he was – that was almost 2 years ago now and I hope he’s changed and learnt his lesson. He’s actually told me as much. Thing is, I believe he thought he was doing the good thing by others, but his upbringing tainted his idea of humility. His father was a know-it-all atheist and his mother a devout catholic-french-speaking teacher of an up-tight grammar school. He was torn between two worlds and got lost in the middle. He learnt his father’s chauvinistic mannerisms and his mother’s assholery. I never really liked his parents, and for the entire relationship that knowledge loomed over me.

In the end, it was a new friend I had made that had shown me the door to my own semi-salvation. He made me feel special about myself that I hadn’t felt in a very long time – whether he meant it or was just saying things doesn’t matter. It made me realise that my ex hadn’t told me I was beautiful, or that he loved me, or that he would even kiss or hug me in a very, very long time. I knew my ex wanted to end it with me but was doing me a kindness by waiting until I was good and ready to go on with life without him. My new friend helped me prepare and he held my hand as I transitioned into a single-lady.

But I wasn’t so much a single lady. This new friend had shown me so much in so little time. I had frustrations that needed quenching, I had needs that hungered for attention. I devoted my new singularity to my new friend, promising that after time had passed we could be together. Unfortunately I was spreading false hope, as it turns out that this good-hearted, poor soul of a friend was merely a rebound.

A month or so after the whole kerfuffle I attended a birthday party with my new friend, for his older brother. My new friend had told me that he worried I would ditch him for his older, stronger, leaner brother – but that was his own insecurities talking. He idolised his brother, so of course he thought he was better than himself. But no, it wasn’t the brother that got me that night. It was the brother’s friend – and my new friend – American Honey.

I got so drunk that night. I was newly single and although I had tied myself to my friend, I wanted to have fun. I hadn’t been single in 2 years and I wanted to give “that flirting thing” a go.  So I drank, and I drank, and I drank. I only knew one person there but I drank my liver to death. My inhibitions died and my crazy slut-self emerged. First she fixated on the elephant in the room – a Scot! His accent had caught my attention straight away – as accents do – and I found myself wanting to hear him talk. After a few drinks, I started making the rounds. I would walk up to people, shake their hand and introduce myself. I did this a few times until I hit the Scot’s best friend – Matt.

I was drunk – and so was he – when he opened his mouth and let the words out. His voice was low, and alluring. It was the perfect mix of sex-appeal and seriousness that it caught me off-guard. Everybody around me suddenly disappeared into the rabble, and all I heard was his voice. I spent the rest of the night flirting my face off with him, and he too. My desires to plant my face on his face got so very strong that the only reason I did not do it was because of my promise to that friend. It wasn’t as if I was scared Matt would reject me – he had told me himself that he wanted to smack one on me too.

When I left that night, I was so far gone that I didn’t even say goodbye to him. I had spent all night pining after him and then ignored him on my departure. I felt bad when I realised and I have never forgiven myself for that, but I was drunk and what can you do?

The next day I was at my friend’s place, bored out of my mind and only wanting to go home. A friend of my friend had randomly shown up and stolen the show, so I messaged Matt on facebook and we started chatting. We talked for three full days before we finally decided that he should come visit me, in my now-empty unit. It was just me there now, and although it was freeing, it was awfully quiet. Matt came over at 10 in the morning, and we watched movies, listened to music and played games all day. My bed time since I started working for the postal service has always been no later than 10pm, and Matt was there until then. When I realised the time, I kicked him out. Apologised but said I needed to get to bed for work the next day.

When he got to his car, he sent me a text. “Damn curiosity” he said. Curiosity was our way of telling each other that we wanted to do a thing – a cute little head of the moment thing. We wanted to kiss. “Just a kiss” He said, after I told him to “Come back”. It was hot, back then and after he had left I had stripped off my bra and switched into little shorts. My white John Lennon shirt – which I still wear – covered me quite well. When Matt came back and knocked on my door, I opened it stating “Welcome back” but before I got to say anything else, he attacked my face with his face. He planted the most romantic and wonderful kiss on me that I’ve ever had. It was astounding – I never thought I would experience that kind of kiss, and just like that it happened.

I liken that kiss to the first kiss that Jessica Day and Nick Miller shared on New Girl. It was full of passion and lust, want and need. I will never feel that kiss on my lips or in my heart ever again, but as long as I get to keep Matt, it’s worth it.

That kiss happened in January 2014. Matt and I have been dating for over a year and a half and we’re still going strong. That one Wednesday started it all – a torrential downpour of ups and downs that lead me into the arms of the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. It is painful to admit though that not even this most wonderful man can heal all my wounds.

I’m still tormented by the pains of the words that my ex spoke to me, and my sadness has only elevated. Every day I hate myself more and more because of how fat I am and how skinny I once was. I used to be skinnier, smarted, more attractive and care-free. I used to enjoy life and enjoy my friends. All those friends I once had are gone to me, and the new ones I have I feel only put up with me because of Matt. I can’t believe that anyone could like me because I don’t even like myself. I’m in a painful hole and I keep dumping negative thoughts and images on myself. It’s hard to get along in life feeling so down.

I know that the best method is to fix my issues – and I’ve started with it. I was depressed that I was 21 without a license, so I went out and got it. That was a big step for me and it helped as independence was suddenly much more realistic for me. The only thing is, there are still other issues that need addressing. My biggest is my weight – I weigh more than I look like I do and I like to believe that it’s muscle, but I know it’s probably just my big fat ass weighing me down. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not obese or disgustingly gluttonous – I’m just a bit chubbier than I used to be. My arms, hands, calves and feet still belong to a skinny version of me, it’s just that my unused abdomen and middle sections store the weight and don’t let go.

I’ve started working on this though – I’ve cut out large portions of crap from my diet and it’s stunted the weight-gain. All I need now is to exercise more instead of sitting on my ass playing computer games all day. Even though I can see that I’m doing some good, I still hate that I have to fight this. I hate knowing that if I lose the weight I’ve gained, I’ll probably feel like I can eat that crap again, and start the cycle back around. At least I’m aware of that, though I suppose.

I’m at a loss for words now as to where this thing will take me. I’ve got to pick up Matt from work in a little while and if I decide to follow my streams of thought anymore I’ll be here for another 3 hours and I’ll completely forget to get him altogether. I suppose this was to let of steam – get it in writing. I haven’t written in so long that I thought it would be good for me to get some thoughts into words, and I think it has. It’s possible that putting it up for public display would help, and knowing that people know my story – whether they believe it or not – is comforting. I’m not too concerned with what people let their brains do as I’m sure they don’t care what mine does. I think the biggest thing is that this will be here for me to find and read in 3 years’ time when I’ve achieved my goals and am truly happy once more. I’ll have to try and write a review at that time to update myself.

I could always do a blog, but I don’t have the motivation nor the attention span for that. This will do, a small time-capsule full of words and poor-writing I know I’ll despise when I come back to it. I’ll hate my 22-year old self for being such a moody little shithead and I’ll thank God that I improved myself for the better. I would write that I would like to still be with Matt in 3 years, but I fear that if something goes wrong and I read that, I would cry myself dry.

Oh well, I’ve said it anyway.

Forgive me.
Stream of Consciousness of a Saddened 22 Year Old
I hadn't written in so long that I wanted to write something. This is what I came up with - a non-proof read stream of consciousness piece. It's a true story, some details were skimmed or missed due to the fact that the story needed to move along. 

I'd like this to go out to my "friend" - Connor, and the most wonderful kisser - Matt.
Just realised I joined deviantART on 09/09/09

Much 9. Such wow.
My DeviantART story begins back in 2009. I was in year 10 at High School - aged 16 -and I was Chess Captain. I know that sounds a bit off-topic, but chess is what lead me to discovering this wonderful site. 

Anyhow, it was my involvement in chess that saw me going to regionals with a bunch of my mates also into the whole chess thing. One of these mates was Karshken - or Jack, as I knew him. After winning out the intermediate levels and finding out we were going to State Finals, we headed home. We were a small bus-load of misfits, but we had fun. On the return trip, Jack had pulled out his art book and started scribbling art into it. After finishing one, he asked if I wanted him to draw anything. I requested he draw me as a werewolf, and he did. It was amazing and I've kept that piece ever since. Hold on a sec while I dig it out for you to see.



Found it!
Untitled by Phantom-Wolf42
I must apologise for the quality of the photograph. My computer isn't currently hooked up to my scanner and I am too lazy to bother doing all that, considering this isn't even my piece of art. 

Anyway, this is Jack's version of me as a werewolf. It is date-stamped with 24th of August 2009, which would be the date that Jack and I became friends, and began talking online about art and much and whatnot. Before too long, Jack linked me to a image that he said inspire him. I shall now find that for you as well.
.shot. by Tyshea
It was this piece that first forced me to make an account with DeviantART. The mature age filter meant I needed an account to see it, and I had to tell them I was over 18. As I said before, I was only 16 at the time. Unfortunately I had to lie, but I was glad I was able to see it, because I quite like this piece.

When it came to my own art, I felt somewhat inferior to everything anyone had ever uploaded. My drawings were stick figures, shocking and without colour or emotion. I was able to recreate other pictures by drawing off of them - not tracing - but more looking at another drawing and drawing it freehand for myself. This was how I started. Although my very first upload was a freehand drawing of an anthropomorphic wolf I named "Dominic the Emo Teen Wolf", it was not a copy. It was a black permanent marker scribble that I had actually been happy with when I finished it.
Dominic the Emo Teen Wolf by Phantom-Wolf42

There were a few other scribbles uploaded before my first copy was done, and they all followed the wolf theme. As my name suggests, I am quite a fan of wolves, despite the fact that there are none whatsoever in Australia. They are wonderful, majestic, fantastic creatures. I was originally "WhiteWolf742" on Skype, but my current name :devPhantom-Wolf42" first made it's appearance when I created this account. The name has now evolved to include memberships all over the place. It is my name of choice, but is often shortened to "Phantom" by gamers, or even people who actually know me personally. DeviantART was the birthplace of this name so many now know me as.

My first freehand copy picture was taken out of an art book I found in my school library. I did almost all the images from it, plus more from others I had found. The first however, is below.
Ma Blue Dragon by Phantom-Wolf42

There isn't much to say about this guy, except that I later adapted him into the digital media and told my brother it was for his birthday.
Steve, The Dragon Revamp by Phantom-Wolf42

About a month later, on September 25th 2009, I came out with what was soon to become my main area of focus. An anthropomorphic red wolf called Martry and his best friend, Tyran the Field Mouse. This duo started out mostly as an accident - I hadn't expected anything to come from the random scribbles and lines I was putting on paper. Tyran's story comes from my inability to draw a mirror or lollypop in Marty's hand, and found that a mouse was easier to draw. Marty and Tyran have grown a lot over the years, and they are now 5 years old in their creation. The first image is how they were in day 2 of creation (day 1 was merely a black outline). The second image is of them 5 years after I began building my artistic skill.

Marty in Colour by Phantom-Wolf42

Marty in Colour REVAMPED by Phantom-Wolf42

Marty and Tyran have different forms. They have a feral form, wild form, devilish form, and they have the times when they like to dress up and play pretend. They have existed in different medias, such as drawings, paintings, lino printing, clay figures, plushies and DeviantART prints. Due to the magnitude of these works, I will thumb them below;
Commission: Marty and Tyran by goikuPatch commission: Marty and Tyran by goikuMarty and Tyran Revisit by Phantom-Wolf42Marty and Tyran - Nintendo 64 by Phantom-Wolf42Marty And Tyran Travel Through Time... by Phantom-Wolf42Commission: Snooze by locoexclaimerTickled Silly REVAMPED by Phantom-Wolf42There Is No Reason by Phantom-Wolf42Marty and Tyran Lino Print #2 by Phantom-Wolf42Marty and Tyran Journal Skin by Phantom-Wolf42Marty and Tyran Mousepad by Phantom-Wolf42Marty and Tyran by AdreannaMarty and Tyran Hoodie by Phantom-Wolf42Marty and Tyran Prize by Phantom-Wolf42
Mug of Marty and Tyran by Phantom-Wolf42Marty and Tyran Magnet Design by Phantom-Wolf42

DeviantART became the breeding ground for my Marty and Tyran universe. Anything and everything Marty and Tyran came here. So much so that I was getting confused with how much stuff there was here that I couldn't keep a track of it, and formed the group Marty-And-Tyran to get it all in one place. I have made requests, commissioned other artists and even participated in a Kris Kringle event a few years ago, where my Kris Kringle created a small clay model of Marty and Tyran, which now sits on my shelf in Pride of Place.

It hasn't all been Marty and Tyran though, there has been a lot of photography in my gallery, from amateur to well... amateur. I'm no professional, but I like to think that sometimes I push out a picture that is quite stunning, such as this one of a leaf covered in droplets of dew. 

Natural Glass 2 by Phantom-Wolf42

I am absolutely in love with this picture (and the others I have like it) and to think, I took this with a camera phone! I had enough images such as this to create a calendar, which I ordered from DeviantART and gave them to family and friends for Christmas one year.

I have also delved more deeply into digital art. I have moved away from traditional art and when I received a graphics tablet from I-am-rennc10 for my 19h birthday, I started spouting out more and more scribbles. I also became a more active fan of Achievement Hunter of Roosterteeth, specifically the Let's Play lads in their Minecraft Let's Plays. I decided I needed more practice in art, and therefore began work on fanart for the boys. I started out drawing one at a time, in their Minecraft skins. Mad King Ryan was first, followed by the rest. I quickly developed a style that I found suited me and my skill as an artist, and before too long I had drawn up the 6 main boys. It's fair to say that Michael Jones' one as Mogar (with the Banjo and Kazooie skinpack) was most popular among deviants.

Rooster Teeth - Achievement Hunter - All For One by Phantom-Wolf42

Drawings, digital art, paintings etc aren't the only kinds of art that I have done/still do occasionally. I am also heavily into writing, so much so that a goal of my life is to write a novel. I have unfortunately not written in a long time as life is a bit complicated at times and I find it harder these days to find stuff to write about. My 16 year old, angsty, angry self had much more to write about. Much of my literature was poetry; there were a bunch of short stories, and failed series. I shall thumb a few of my favourite pieces below, most shall be poetry, but I will highlight a 50 word story I wrote that got quite a bit of attention and hype.

RoadkillLeft for dead on the side of the road,
I find myself wondering
Just how long I'll be here
Before someone chances across me
And believes me to be more than a dead slab of meat
Unfortunately I reek,
Of a thousand rotting corpses,
And no one in this world,
Would dare hazard me a glance,
Because I'm far gone as far as they're concerned
The rain starts falling,
In a dreary slant of a downpour,
Washing from me all hope of salvation,
Pulling me into a stream of sorrow,
Dragging me from my home on the side of the road
The stream of sorrow drags me further along,
Further away from the home I once loved,
Into the outskirts of where I wish not to be,
And all I can think is that I'll be forever alone,
Decomposing slowly in a gruesome mess of blood and guts
I can't even tell you what I am anymore;
My body is disfigured; my face chewed off by crows,
The weather carries away my limbs,
The sun boils my flesh and fades the beige of my bones,
Until you can't even tell that I am road kill.
Fear MeHowl to the moon and tear you to shreds,
Disembody your figure and bite off your head.
Flesh in my teeth and blood on the ground,
Listening for screamers, straining for sound.
Clawing the earth for sign of a meal,
Following your footsteps, hot on your heel,
Lying in wait in the shadows of night,
Never again safe, under shining moon light.
Fear the werewolf
Fear me.
'Murderer'On your tombstone, I'll bleed
My ParanoiaIt's almost as though,
    The very eyes of the universe,
  Follow me where I walk…
It's almost as though
    They watch me,
   Seeking out my secrets,
             And planning my destruction.
     It's almost as though,
The voices that accompany me,
            Seek only to cause pain,
To torment me,
         And terrify my life.
  It's almost as though,
           Every man for himself,
      Stands on my shoulder,
   Watching me,

Mature Content

Mature Content

Mature Content

It's like thisIt's like this;
So shut up.
Destiny. Fate. ChoiceDestiny was said to have lead you,
   Through life.
Through hell.
       Unto what you had in store.
You weren't eligible to decide your own path,
   It was destiny's choice.
Their choice.
       And you did just what they said.
But does destiny really exist?
   Does it compel you along?
Does it help you along?
       Or do you write your own future?
Fate and destiny are the same thing,
   The same person.
The same governing democracy.
     Where only the two voted.
I don't put my life down to fate,
   I make my decisions.
I make my own choices.
       Does destiny really want me to fail?
Does it want me to succeed?
Night Time Fell  And when night time fell,
                        as did I.

Because I couldn't
Where I was
An Orc In The ShireMan belongs to a heightened
   A vast array of knowledge,
Bountiful resources,
     Beautiful landscapes.
But beyond the glittering,
Gleaming flora,
   And the wild life of the land,
Lies a deathly man,
     He is Industry.
Industry sits there,
Day in,
   Day out,
Heaving his great lungs,
     The lungs of a smoker.
He sits in the distance,
   And alone,
Puffing his pipe,
     Inhaling, exhaling.
In amongst the fauna,
The flora,
   The beauty,
Of the landscape,
     Industry creates,
And he destroys.
Constantly, for years,
He sits,
   He breathes,
While his servants feed his pipe,
     And flick his switches.
He is the most toxic of all,
I Had It You Got It He Has ItFirst it got my Mum,
And then it got my son.
It then got my husband,
And it had only just begun.
It was passed onto my Uncle,
Who gave it to his friend,
She gave it to her boyfriend Max,
And it was never going to end.
Max gave it to his sister,
Who passed it to her Nan.
She passed it to her landlord Alf,
He took it and then he ran.
Alf passed it to his neighbour,
Who passed it to his dog,
The dog passed it to his feline friend,
Who gave it to the frog.
The frog met a princess,
And passed it on to her.
She passed it to a dying witch,
Who gave it to a sir.
Sir gave it to his kitchen maid,
Who gave it to the Queen,
She passed it to her husband,
And got lost somewhere in between.
The King passed it to his jester,
Who passed it to some guy,
The bloke passed it to a common man,
Who fell to the ground to cry.
The common man gave it to his Mum,
Who gave it to someone bald.
He gave it to his nephew John,
The last to catch the cold.
Bored And Random PoemIt's a purple rhinoceros,
An orange deer.
The cup is empty,
I drank all the beer.
The glass plate shattered,
The rain fell down.
I would have smiled,
But I'm too lazy to frown.
Don't call me Ishmael!
I'll go down with a fight.
Patriotic hallucinations,
Who cares if you're right?
I'm a random poem!
I'm a tree and a maze.
Don't jump on my back,
Sheep eating maise.
Dogs and cats,
A black fish and two dice.
A dodgy red pen,
And a head full of lice.
Go eat a pie,
Suck on a straw.
Elephant shoelaces,
Your doggy wants more!
I'm going to go now,
My attention is thin.
This poem was random,
My truth lies therein.
The Rage Of TrainsThe rage of the train
              Matched the rage in their hearts.
It had started off so well,
     The feelings like that of two school children,
   Fancying each other from a distance,
But as the relationship grew,
                          So did the rage.
Their first kiss had been bliss,
     Their tongues skirting the outskirts of each lip,
   Their eyes closed, imagining the impossible,
But as time was lost,
                          So was the love.
They were a fairytale pair,
     A modern day Romeo in love with his Juliet,
   And th
PedestalYour hair is perfect,
Pristine and gleaming.
Your eyes are gorgeous,
Great blue oceanic orbs.
Your face is beautiful,
Toned skin and rosy cheeks.
Your clothes are designer,
Elegant and unique.
Your shoes are astonishing,
High heeled and glittering.
Your accessories are fabulous,
Antique and accentuating.
Your friends are the same,
Glittered up and beautiful.
Your family is eccentric,
Gorgeous like you.
Your friends are only pigeons,
Wanting to be like you.
Your beauty is an illusion,
Cosmetics and pretty clothes.
Who are you kidding?
You belong on a pedestal.
Fight of the Year2 Teams are playing,
Autumn Vs. Spring.
1st quarter is now,
which team will win?
New life,
New trends.
The sun,
The sky,
The trust,
New friends.
Spring's got the ball,
Autumn comes in hard.
They need to put in,
The extra few yards.
Leaves fall
To the ground.
And browns.
Two goals to both,
scores are a tie.
Three quarters to go,
All players are high.
And thyme.
Come out
At this time.
Spring's in the lead,
Four goals to three,
Half time is here,
Who'll win? Wait 'n' see.
And brown.
And bronze
Come out
For this round.
Third quarter is fin,
One quarter to go,
The score at this time,
Is six goals to four.
It's colours
The game is won,
Spring came out on top.
They won by two goals,
That isn't a lot.
Upside-Down and BackwardsLate at night in the middle of the day,
A legless old lady walked away.
A blind man saw her and said 'I see'
'You have no legs above the knee'
A deaf man heard what's going on,
and said 'I heard that something's wrong.'
A man without a tongue came by,
And said to them 'Well, my oh my.'
'How awful it is to have no legs,'
'But that person there has go no neck!'
The poor old soul was twelve years old,
He had no neck, or so he was told.
He said 'My throat is rather sore,'
'My Adams apple is quite a bore!'
'Look at that!' The dumb man cried,
'Look at what?' The deaf replied.
'Over there; behind the fence,'
'Is some old man witout a head!'
'Oh my God!' Dumb man said,
As he watched the man turn red.
'I need a rest; my legs are sore,'
Said tha lady who started it all.
'I can't imagine what I'd do.'
Said headless man; 'Not a clue.'
'I can see with my two eyes,'
Blind man said 'I'd rather die'
'I agree, my nose is itchy,'
Headless said 'It's rather bitchy'
A man walks by and says 'How do you do?

I think it's nearing time to pack up my typewriter keyboard and actually do something constructive with my time, so I think I will finish up with this last photograph of some artisan crafts I did for I-am-rennc10 for Christmas in 2011. We had played a lot of Minecraft together, and I thought making him a plush creeper would be thoughtful - not to mention adorable. We named him Pablo, and I got him a small sombrero. The slime was for me, made from leftover material. He too wears a sombrero, but it is properly sized for humans. He was named Bilbo.

Pablo the Creeper and his mate Bilbo by Phantom-Wolf42

There have been multitudes of works come through my DeviantART messages, and there are 55 pages of favourites to prove it, and I have made quite a few friends through this website. Some I know in reality, and some I have never met, and probably never will. I thank you all for reading through my story, and surviving my hordes of art I shamelessly promote. I rarely find motivation for art these days as many things in my life have changed and I am more inclined to socialise with others than I was before, and therefore have less time to myself. 

Happy 14th birthday deviantart, many many more years wished upon you.


Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
Well I'm a young Australian born and bred artist. I enjoy drawing, reading and writing (and, when I can be bothered, I try my hand at digital art).
I'm 20 years of age. (Whoa, I'm actually 22 now).
I have my Certificate IV in Visual Arts.
My ambitions in life are currently undefined; all I know is; I love to write, so perhaps my future will involve much of that.
I love music, no matter what it is.
Gaming somehow rules my life, while not distracting me from the other important areas.
If there are zombies, it's a good night in.
If you have any questions at all, just drop me a note and I'll get to replying as soon as I am able.

Like gaming? Add me on Steam at…

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MikTVty Featured By Owner 19 hours ago  New Deviant Hobbyist General Artist
thx for llamaaWink/Razz I am a dummy! 
birthdays Featured By Owner Sep 4, 2015
:woohoo: :party: :iconcakelickplz: !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! :iconcakelickplz: :party: :woohoo:

On behalf of the birthdays team, I sincerely apologize that your greeting has arrived late this year.

We hope you had an awesome day with lots of birthday fun, gifts, happiness and most definitely, lots of cake! Here's to another year!

Many well wishes and love from your friendly birthdays team :love:

Birthdays Team
This birthday greeting was brought to you by: KoudelkaW
Phantom-Wolf42 Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Not an issue, thank you for the well-wishes :)
Jasperinity Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2015
Happy birthday! :D
Phantom-Wolf42 Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Many thanks :)
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