I completely forgot that Poets & Writers Magazine once ran this piece by Steve Almond, for which Almond and I were depicted (quite realistically) as cartoons. Do you want to add "the cartoons that we are"? I've beaten you to it.
What's weird is I recognize the shirt and the necklace I'm wearing, and I'm pretty sure that my head IS, in fact, THAT big in person -- a la Nancy Reagan.
I can't say, however, that this is the most realistic drawing ever done of me. One of my kids (as a three year old) once drew a picture of me that was a dead ringer.
Here's an explanation of that artwork within this poem -- Q and A: How do your children affect your work?" found in the collection Compulsions of Silkworms and Bees.
Q and A: How do your children affect your work?
This morning at the kitchen table,
my three-year-old son drew a picture of me:
so much swollen head, stick-arms poking out of my ears,
stick-legs under my chin, three dots for eyes and nose,
a mouth-line, a scribble of hair,
and swirling away, unconnected,
two circles, he told me, one for pee, one for poop.
I was concerned. Where’s the house? I asked.
The grass? Where are you?
It's morning, he told me. It just got done snowing.
I’m watching you.
And for a moment it was like that:
I am standing in a trackless field,
wondering how I got here, how long I’ve been standing
mute, deaf, possibly blind with my big head, dot eyes,
and slanted, shut mouth.
How could I not have seen myself before?