Today is a day dedicated to #Drooling. It’s rather a prompt word filled with hidden innuendoes, and thoughts, that occur from the word and I’d rather keep them to myself. I have come to feel it would be a waste of time to illustrate any NSFW’s.

 I recently received a letter from project managers of the server, speaking down on the franchise and deferring people from voting or supporting the artists.

 I may not agree with the views of the letter, but I am one artist and to draw more images of a sexual nature, will do nothing to achieve support. No matter how much people are found drooling at the showcases.

It becomes exhausting you know, to feel you are the only one who cares about the publications that made the weekends better than skip school days or holidays.

When I was a kid you could find me reading a whole volume of Excel Saga by  Shōnen Gahōsha, and drool over the power babes of the 80’s and 90’s. Eager for the day my own illustrations would inspire the youth to illustrate their dreams.

Due to the fact that I am aware, it is odd to find a man who loves women, has loved them since he was thirteen years old and has found many ways to illustrate them and not get bored. To see he entertains such a varied field of art and can be found drooling over Futas and Succubus. Of course I don’t find my guilty pleasures and indulgences in such stories to be any different than those who binge watch and drool over Grey’s Anatomy. Their were tones of programs that initiated drooling sessions when I was in college. True Blood,    Heather Graham’s vampire hunter series, Zane Novels.

Every time I think of Zane, I wonder what happened to her?

Did the continued invasion of editors upon her written material become too much and found her without an audience?

Anyway, we can say nineteen years has been dedicated to establishing a time frame for when Loco Art began. Ten years later I fell in love with Norah Jones. I was eleven and like many my age played video games, read comics, wrote my own books. Come to think of it, my time in New Jersey allowed me to fall in love with three very different but creative women around my age. Nina Valentine, Chamel Surfellow, Colleen Williams; Nina the Puritan, Chamel the Whore, Coleen the Goth.

Nina and I where fine together, except in all of our discussions we never kissed. Intellectually we were good for each other, but she had this way of making me feel unless I was willing to marry, I’d never score a kiss. Hard for a military brat that moves from place to place and never can call a place home for a year.

Because I was who I was, I had to tell her it would not workout. Needless to say, we never spoke about writing books anymore.

Chamel became a pleasant distraction, ensuring me that her desire to “put out,” would benefit us both and she would not hold anything against me, if I didn’t stay around.

I never did keep Chamel, fearing if she was so fine with a guy she only met once, what would she do if I was not around. Every time we met for the bus ride home and she allowed me to collect my share of coconuts and affection, I would slowly forget my misgivings or care about who else might have done the same.

None could touch me like Colleen Williams mind you.

She controlled my dreams and reality for two years. From 12 until I was 13, when ever she wanted me, she would only have to jingle the bell on her collar, and with joy would I appear to her. “Yes my mistress?”

“Dream Weaver, we’d like to know, considering you’re a man, what would you desire to fulfill your dreams, the Puritan: who will only love you when no one else is looking. The whore: who will love you and everyone else. The Goth: who will love you with chains of pleasure that not only keep you connected but teach well the lesson of pleasure received amidst one’s pain?”

I allowed the goth to capture my virginity, along with my imagination for two years. We entertained one another all for the sake of love.

I never did ask about a fourth option; due to being unaware such an option existed: To be loved by another Dream Weaver like me. What a pleasure indeed.   All one can do is drool.