The Name's Gym, Diamond Gym

The Academy of Art University's Super Summer Slam(as I prefer to call it), in which contestants are relentlessly pummeled by in-class lecture beatings, gut-busting homework blows and the occasional left hook from the street dreg asking for "spare change," is moving along like the express train. I have yet to experience any personal psychotic bouts of hysteria that involve me sprinting down the street with arms flailing, bloodshot eyes, a five o'clock shadow from five weeks ago, in soiled underwear and tube socks, with a charcoal-smeared body, a half eaten peanut butter and A1 Steaksauce sandwich on organic oat-nut bread in one hand, and an extra large cup of damp Starbucks coffee grounds in the other, repeatedly screaming "It's all about proportions!!" So far so good. The last few weeks of the semester are creeping up like gym-shorts and final projects have been assigned.

Pictured this time are two life drawings and a Rembrandt copy from my studio class, as well as some shots from the top of Mason street, which I chose as my alternate route to the train last week in an attempt to find new sights. I say the TOP, because I might as well have climbed the Rockies looking at street signs the whole way, though the view was worth it...and my calves have never looked better. I also found some time to kick it old school by doing some pinstriping on one of my class notebooks.