Updates: Part 2

Hello again everyone!

I wanted to update on our site here!

Sketchykids.com our custom domain is back!! We are going to be better than ever, centering on our cable access show. We are also enabled for e-commerce so artists will be able to sell their work on our site which will help us bring more value to our creators.

Going forward we will be creating major updates to the site structure to reflect these changes. We’re staying quiet over the summer to focus on recruiting, post-production on Sketchy Kids are Live season 2, and pre-production on Sketchy Kids are Live season 3. Until then we’ll be trickling out content but Fall will have a lot of action!

We are always looking for more artists to join and get their work promoted with us!

Peace and Love!

Updates!

Hello web-space!

We are revamping a few things here at Sketchy Kids. One of the biggest announcements is that we will be shifting many of our efforts to instagram @sketchykids. Yes we are updating with the times and hope to stay relevant to our audience!

One tough choice we recently made was to allow our domain to lapse. We are now found at thesketchykids.wordpress.com. We may renew SketchyKids.com at a date TBA, however the investment was not worth it for our artist community at this time.

We are actively looking for new artists to join our network for free promotion on our new instagram account, facebook page, youtube and cable access show!

We’ll be showing you more very soon!

An Infinite Regression of Past Lives

By Peter

A skunk walks across the beach
in a red and white striped one piece,
a surfboard under his arm.
He stops every woman
to ask for the time of day.
None give it to him
as bikini clad women
tend not to wear watches.
They are, for the most part, cordial
in their refusals,
but the waves laugh at his rejections.
The skunk, visibly frustrated by the guffaws,
refrains from spraying the water
out of respect for the other beachgoers.
The skunk is not a skunk at all,
He is a businessman carrying a briefcase.
The sand is Grand Central Station.
He constantly checks his watch,
then squints at the schedule,
then back to his watch.
He is the type of person who shows up
hours early in case of this very predicament
and would likely catch his train with time to spare.
He asks anyone and everyone
for directions to the proper platform,
pointing to his ticket for reference.
No one acknowledges his presence.
He is not a businessman at all.
He is me. I am no businessman.
I am in a motel room
washing my face
I don’t know what city I’m in,
some town bordering Detroit.
I stare into the mirror in the mirror,
see how many of me there are.
It’s three a.m. and I have a strange feeling
I’m going to a funeral tomorrow.
Why else would I pack a suit?