Sweet gig from Nylon Guys: Create a portrait of Lemmy Kilmister from Motorhead for his new documentary, “Lemmy: 49% Motherfucker, 51% Son of a Bitch”. Now I figure, not only am I going to make a sweet picture of Lemmy, but I’m also going have a bunch of people see that it is in fact awesome and have them call me up wanting to give me jobs and kill my student debt. Only 1 part of my fantasy came true. I did make a rad Lemmy picture, the dudes at Nylon Guys dug it and it printed! But wait, hold the phone, (no pun intended) my phone didn’t ring at all! With a hoot and a holler, I hopped in my truck and raced to the nearest magazine stand. I parked and frantically searched for some change to feed the meter. All hope had almost been lost as I had not a single penny, then upon taking a second look under my driver seat underneath some old french fries was a single grime covered quarter. I spit on it and polished it with the tail of my shirt. I held it to the sky like a father holds his first born son. I put it into the meter and I was awarded 20 minutes of parking freedom. I ran two blocks to the news stand. With my heart thumping from excitement and fatigue, I stepped on to the firm gray berber carpet of Main Street News in Santa Monica. Cool artificial air blew past my perspiring brow. I took my time, savoring my search. Each magazine colorfully displayed itself on the shelf, blanketed in the soft florescent light. I felt like I was in secret field of wild flowers made of perfectly kerned text. And there, next to an assortment of other men’s interests was my grail, Nylon Guys. I picked up the March issue eagerly anticipating the glowing 4-color process work of genius done by yours truly. I turned to the back page of the magazine and there it was! The image was perfect in all it’s detail. I was so excited to let my parents know about my glory. There I was standing alone in this news stand and quietly I was a king. All of my pride was welling within this magic-hour moment and it suddenly came to a halt. I looked bellow my precious work of art to see in bold letters, “ILLUSTRATION BY JOSH EVANS”!!! Guaaagh!! What! I threw the periodical to the floor like finding a spider crawling on me. This was obviously a mistake, a joke, I got punked, some strange blunder of sorts. I grabbed another copy and checked the back page and there it was again Josh Evans. The next magazine, Josh Evans, and the next, and the next, Josh Evans!!!….. Right now as you are reading this there are like a hundred thousand copies of my illustration with Josh Evans being credited. I bought the copy of the magazine anyways and told the clerk that I liked it for the articles. As I walked out of news stand, my face buried in monthly fashion pulp to hide my humiliation and shame, I stubbed my toe on a store front corner. Blaaaaahhhh!! Now for your viewing pleasure and my lack of dignity, Lemmy:
