Mooreover / Blog

My business partner called me yesterday and asked me to watch his daughter while he showed a listing in a not-so-near neighborhood. This meant that for three hours of that day I had two little girls to watch, one of which was 6 years old and more than a little horse crazy. So while Selah took a nap, Jasmine and I took to drawing. We both drew horses, and I drew a saddle, but eventually I took to drawing my name. And my initials.

It might stem from some unaddressed form of narcissism, but I think I’m just victim to a good name: Jesse Dylan Moore. I once called into a radio show and the dj aired our discussion about the quality of my name: the rhythmic cadance, the phonetic waterfall, the cascading powerflops of masculine names, one into the other.

So, a good name coupled with a 2nd Grade Penmanship award results in…a fixation. Get me bored or trapped in a class of some sort and I’ll be writing my name a hundred different ways, or find me working on an artistic representation of my initials (see above) that looks like an organized dance of raindrops.

As I found myself doing when in the company of a 6-year girl. After drawing a horse. And a saddle. So then I drew the above and the six-year old couldn’t tell what it was. And I almost tattooed this on my body at one time in my life. Which would have been a better choice than the cross that I formed with friends into the shape of a cross and then heated in a campfire for the purposes of a quick branding. Given my threshold for pain, there’s a good chance the 6-year old wouldn’t know what that was supposed to be if it was burned into my shoulder either.