The week in review

[shadesofmauve]

This was a fairly productive week, in retrospect. I was a good deal more hoopy than I have been on average recently, in part thanks to the talk and drink monday night, and I have something to show for it. TWO comics are well into the inking stage - a 2nd Thoughts (Latte) and the 1st Intro strip for B&S, to be published in Bellingham (one week later than expected - apparently fenmere and masterrobyn need to sleep - who knew? They'll be wanting food next.). TThursday I finally saw klorkdean. It is really nice to see her back at WWU, with new pettably soft hair (it's very fetching, girl-y). La Table Francais was superbe this week; a lot of chit chat with Cecile, paragon of all that is cutely french.

In a fairly good mood I set off for Seattle friday morning, with some help from Tobyn, who answered my ditzy damsel in distress call and got me to the station. I've now used up my DinD allotment for the year. Seattle was damp, no suprise, but spending a day worrying about nothing more than whether I caught the right bus is marvelous, and brings back memories of wandering in Europe, except that I knew where i was staying the night. I had a really nice visit with my cousin Kelsey and her husband Tony, who not only fed me *excellent* test prep food, but let me sleep on a real mattress. Saturday morning was GRE time - I'm dumber than when I took the SAT by exactly 100 points. So much for college. Where it matters, I'm okay for verbal, hurting on math - not entirely suprising, since I last took a math course three years ago and it was accelerated calculus, not geometry/algebra (for the record, there were no problems i just couldn't do, but I didn't remember ANY of the shortcuts, and longhand takes toooo long).

Anyhoo, was fetched by the lovely Cuz, and spend an enjoyable slow afternoon at her house pirating a nice variety of music (Nirvana Unplugged, TMBG Flood, Travis The Man Who, and Pogues - Ben Folds Five didn't seem to burn right). I'll reciprocate in kind when I find a new burning program. Expect an explanation in this journal later of why I can be a concientious musician and still burn music - it'll make sense. During this relaxing afternoon I also caught up on web design homework I've been avoiding, and started a new sketch - the 3rd of my planned 4 peice gratuitously-naked-elements series. Beautiful fun to work on. On the train ride back I had an idea for a rather interesting self portrait, if I can pull it off...so all in all, I'd say the art juice is flowing well.

Don't be surprised if, at some time in the future, I go off on a dreamy tangent about how much I love train travel. 'Cause I do.

Comments

[klorkdean.livejournal.com]

*bounces her hair in your general direction...mainly because she can't think of what else to say ;)*

[fenmere.livejournal.com]

apparently fenmere and masterrobyn need to sleep - who knew? They'll be wanting food next.

I'm not entirely sure how to respond to that. I want to be flip and say that I've been doing without food for ages, I'll never need it again. But I think an apology is probably more in order.

I'm envious of your trip. It's been too long since I've been to seattle.

[shadesofmauve]

Neither flipping nor appology - I just meant that we 'expect' rather a lot of you, or you take on rather a lot, and no one should be suprised if you need some rest. Sympathies, not complaints.

[fenmere.livejournal.com]

Ah. Well, it seems also my job to pretend like there's nothing like that expecting going on, eh?

Here's a better response, then. Don't let our appearances of doing a lot of work make you feel like you're lazy. I've been talking with Robyn about this a bit, actually, as well as a few of my other friends. Robyn's a bit of a go-getter, it's true, but I wish to be the King of Slack. I try very hard not to do anything until I feel like it's the easiest thing to do in the world.

Work should be like breathing.

And while this paper is going to transform a number of people's hobbies into very low paying jobs rather quickly, we need to remember that until they are fair paying jobs it's best to continue to treat our comics like the hobbies they are. I'm trying to make sure that our submission policies and what we encourage people to do reflects that.

Ack! I'm talking about this thing again! Heh.

Sarah, your sympathy makes me want to give you a big hug. It feels good. Thank you.

[fenmere.livejournal.com]

Yes, I know that post is full of sweet irony. Ah, I love the smell of it!

[shadesofmauve]

Ah, the fresh smell of irony in the evening.

[fenmere.livejournal.com]

For best results, add a spritz of sarcasm and set the irony on pun...

[shadesofmauve]

Work should be like breathing?

Wait a minute - now you want to BREATHE too?

You aren't a slave driver in the least, and anyone who doesn't treat their comics like a hobby - well, we're our own task master, and there's just nuffin you can do about that.

You're welcome, of course.

[fenmere.livejournal.com]

OK, OK, I'll stop preaching. ;) Clearly I'm surrounded by fellow choir members.

*sigh*

You know, a couple days ago I had a vision of my puritan work ethic. I haven't drawn him yet, but I might. He's yoked to a war chariot, driven by my megalomaniac Humility, who's rampaging around the battlefield smashing demons over the head with the Hammer of Inspiration. I haven't quite figured out how to depict that.

I think I've been playing too much "Warhammer 40K: Dawn of War." What a game.

[shadesofmauve]

Wow. That's....wow.

Humility that wants to take over the world is a concept that really hurts my head.

[fenmere.livejournal.com]

Megalomaniacal Humility at is strongest is what Mother Theresa had. The Pope probably has it, too, as well as damn near every teenager and artist in the U.S. to varying degrees. I've been told that magalomania can't occure in degrees, that it's absolute, but I'm a poet and what I say goes. ;)

I've an even better version worked out now. This is turning into a regular renaisance painting... The demons are things like "hunger," "depression," "loneliness," and "bullies." The Megalomaniacal Humility is only driving the Charriot, the Puritan Work Ethic beliegered, tired and sweating profusely. Beside my Humility is my Sense of Slack, who is basically Bob Dobs in a tattered flanel bathrobe with a pencil behind his ear and his pipe blowing bubbles. It's my Sense of Slack what is conking the demons, with a non-chelant swing of the Warhammer of Inspiration, a Neal Stephensen novel in his left hand. The little angels of Bitterness and Spite sit on his right shoulder and the devils of Happiness and Pride on his left. The ground is made of chocolate and the sky is the color of beer with puffs of down feathers for clouds. The trees are green and lush, with lots of crows in them.

And in one corner of the sky, the Right Eye of the Great one shines down in all its glory on the meham. And in the other, Her Left Eye winks a sly waning crescent, as if to say "I'm still watching, too."

And the whole piece is entitled "This is Not the Truth."