Our Last Exquisite Corpse

A couple of years after our first collaboration came this final drawing. I did the top half (by the way don't forget to click on this and then click on that box of arrows that shows up in the corner of the enlarged image for a new, better-defined image):


The Last Exquisite Corpse

I was finally getting the hang of it. My friend would give me advice from time to time about composition and using blacks, and my improvement was showing. But after about 45 exquisite corpses he thought it was time to call it quits, since (as he put it) my drawings were so inferior to his. Whatever! A few months later I had finally grown tired of his constant verbal attacks on me and kicked his fat narcissistic ass out of my apartment for good.

Several months later--after one final solid month of sitting in a darkening room and staring at the walls until just past sunset--I'd also had enough of my fucking useless and crippling depression as well and started taking medication for it. Ten years later I'm still a slave to Zoloft, but that's ok. Believe me. Thirty years of depression had given me a unique (though often twisted and painful beyond belief) perspective on shit most people take in stride. And I think that perspective revealed to me information about myself I might never have become aware of otherwise. But after three decades of visiting and revisiting the same shit over and over, I'd decided that I "got it" and that it was time to move on and have a life for once.