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Description
I purposely wanted this to look like the inside or backside of a CD jacket. It was created entirely using a PS brush set called 387 Abstract Vector Brushes, and was made as a birthday present to myself.

The words were designed to mimic a particular vector brush that orginally occupied that space in the overall design. The words were written on the spot and have only whatever meaning that you, the viewer, assign to it:

unmercilessly mindphucked by the galactic catastrophe; the great thing about it is that nothing is new, the same ole shit-grin over worn bones; a delicate howdy, a pleasant plop of poop in the lap, good will hunted, stormtroppers of the apocalypse break dancing on the horizon, feeling special is ordinary, growth measured by bitter weakness; it's a damn shame I've outlived my usefulness, could've gone state, could've been a corporate monkey for twenty years, could've discovered a cure for baldness could've been a champion, a real go-getter, a plastic cum machine, a sell out; could've had my own diner's club check cashing card if I only learned how to play the game, learned how to have been a good ole boy, a team wanker; everything I've ever dreamed of being is contained in this 5'6'' flesh suitcase sucking down oxygen, taking up space, breathing somebody else's air, their happy meal, their time allotted goodness, their chance to grab the brass ring

Description
I purposely wanted this to look like the inside or backside of a CD jacket. It was created entirely using a PS brush set called 387 Abstract Vector Brushes, and was made as a birthday present to myself.

The words were designed to mimic a particular vector brush that orginally occupied that space in the overall design. The words were written on the spot and have only whatever meaning that you, the viewer, assign to it:

unmercilessly mindphucked by the galactic catastrophe; the great thing about it is that nothing is new, the same ole shit-grin over worn bones; a delicate howdy, a pleasant plop of poop in the lap, good will hunted, stormtroppers of the apocalypse break dancing on the horizon, feeling special is ordinary, growth measured by bitter weakness; it's a damn shame I've outlived my usefulness, could've gone state, could've been a corporate monkey for twenty years, could've discovered a cure for baldness could've been a champion, a real go-getter, a plastic cum machine, a sell out; could've had my own diner's club check cashing card if I only learned how to play the game, learned how to have been a good ole boy, a team wanker; everything I've ever dreamed of being is contained in this 5'6'' flesh suitcase sucking down oxygen, taking up space, breathing somebody else's air, their happy meal, their time allotted goodness, their chance to grab the brass ring