Here’s another one from Friday. I was pretty happy with it until I stupidly tried to add some ink to the guy’s left hand, which was still wet with watercolor, resulting in a big black splotch. Oh sure, for blog-posting purposes I could fix it digitally, but instead I carved out most of the ink with an X-Acto knife, covered it with a little white-out, then tried to add a little color. Still looks a little cadaver-y, but whaddya gonna do?

Dude: How much to draw my dog?

Me: Well, ah, I dunno, it’s just good practi…

Friend: 10 bucks!

And so this mutt paid for a round trip to Jersey and like half a drink.

Tonight I was invited to a bar in Jersey City to be a “featured artist” while a couple bands played. I was worried there’d be a big spotlight on me or something, but really it was just good drawing practice in the corner of a dark room. As a bonus, a lot of people were very complimentary of my work, and coincidentally drunk!

Thought I’d draw how most people at work see me. Plus, working out the kinks of mixing watercolor pencil with ink. Tip: let the ink dry first duh.

Well, it’s about time to say goodbye to the fella who made me desperate to live in New York long before I knew he wasn’t kidding about the rats and urine. There used to be a time when I wouldn’t miss a show, and there was even a time when I paid $400 as a broke college student to see him burst onstage mere weeks after quintuple bypass surgery. I still have the hospital bootie that I ripped off Robin Williams’ foot.

I don’t have any real complaints about late-model Dave. I think it was by design that, in the last decade or so, his show went from unmissable to the kind of show you could dip in and out of at will. Whether it was his bypass, or the inevitable perspective that comes with growing older, he settled into being television’s reliable raconteur. I slept soundly knowing that I wasn’t missing any of the ambitious comedy set pieces that characterized his early years on CBS. This new Dave, this real Dave, sat at his desk and told stories. And let’s face it, I’d find them on YouTube eventually.

I first became aware of Letterman at age 13 or so. It’s a critical age. 13-year-olds who reveled in sports grew up bumping chests, and grunting, and thinking they were god’s gift to the ladies. 13-year-olds who excelled in Dungeons and Dragons became the arrogant IT guy you can’t live without. 13-year olds who taped Letterman and watched him before school became self-deprecating wise-asses.

That may sound like a detriment, but believe me, there’s nothing better than laughing at myself, laughing at people, and laughing at the world. At age 37, I don’t need a talk show host to be my rudder. But if you’re ever offended by one of my snappy comebacks or sarcastic one-liners, you’d better believe I’ll blame Dave. And by blame, I mean thank. Thanks, Dave!