| (no subject) |
[Feb. 20th, 2006|03:02 pm] |
I've changed my LJ account. This account will be deleted on Friday. The new account is CrashKincaide.
That is all.
For now. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 17th, 2006|10:26 pm] |
Okay, so I'm helping to move furniture from the old comix shop to the new comix shop. Apparently, one of the cabinets has a hinged top that I did not know about...
I seem to be unable to hold a stylus now...
Oh well, I really didn't feel a connection with the Megadeath contest entry anway. The only reason I was even doing it was to prove to myself that I can produce artwork for a project I have no love for on deadline. It's not like the contest offered a prize of any real value anyway. Top three entrants receive guitars signed by Dave Mustane. Mustane is right-handed... I am not. I suppose I could have sold the thing on Ebay, but I would feel guilty about it if I did. Besides, I've seen the portfolios of about 10 of the people I know are entering, and they are way better than me.
During my convalescence, I've been working on a painting I really want to do, and I think It would be much, much better than a heavy metal (snrrk!) poster could ever hope to be.
Would've been a nice entry on my resume, though. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 9th, 2006|01:29 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  busy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Celtc Frost; Caress Into Oblivion | ] |
I've entered a contest over at DeviantArt, to redesign Vic, Megadeath's mascot. To that end, I've been listening to Megadeath all morning. What I've discovered is this: In order to gain inspiration to redesign Megadeath's mascot, I shouldn't be listening to Megadeath, I should be listening to Celtic Frost, Opeth, Cradle of Filth, et. al.
I never realised Megadeath was so light and fluffy.
Tactical Tip: If you're going to sing about death, destruction, and extinction, don't write your songs in major keys, use soaring, uplifting guitar licks, or sing in a lilting, melodic (for metal) voice. The only Megadeath songs I could remember from the 80's were Symphony of Destruction and Anarchy In The U.K., so I didn't realise they did those things so often. I just thought they had killer posters and cover art.
I swear, I've listened to Happy Hardcore (a style of techno), that was more bleak and depressing (and harder to dance to) than 80% of Megadeath.
Oh well... at least I have a cool idea for Vic... no thanks to Megadeath. |
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| Happy Exorcist Day ! |
[Dec. 25th, 2005|08:35 am] |
On this day, we celebrate the release, in 1973, of one of the greatest movies of all time.
The Exorcist.
Have some split pea soup, tie a loved one to the bed, and whip out your crucifix, baby. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 14th, 2005|04:30 pm] |
I very nearly managed to feed one of the baby squirrels by hand today. I must admit that it wasn't my sheer animal magnetism that facilitated this, however. Mrs. Squirrelly-Head (mother of said baby) was also on the porch, eating sunflower seeds that I was picking out of a box of parrot food, when she came close enough to grab several seeds from my hand. While this is going on, the baby (whom I call Twitch because of her excessively twitchy tail) had exhausted the supply of seeds on the porch and, emboldened by her mother's actions came up and, seeing the proferred seeds in my hand... nibbled my finger. Twitchy apprently didn't find the taste agreeable, as she never quite came close enough to do that again. Finally, a motorcycle rumbled by and startled them off, so I left several seeds on the porch and went back inside. Damn I'm going to miss those squirrels.
I need to sweep the porch after I finish tomorrow's comic. |
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| Woo-Hoo! |
[Apr. 28th, 2005|09:44 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  geeky | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The History Channel | ] |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 9th, 2005|12:19 pm] |
I'm sitting here coloring the last panel of Friday's strip and "I Need A Hero" crops up in my playlist... oddly appropo, I think...
I'm such a geek. |
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| Unemployment Sux |
[Jan. 26th, 2005|08:49 pm] |
While going through postings on Hotjobs, Headhunter, Monster, and Cleveland.com, I decided to check my application history. Here's a list of the jobs I've applied for in the past 3 months:
54 Tech Support
12 Help Desk
3 Network Administrator
4 Retail Management
9 Retail Sales (including one porn shop gig that I really wanted)
1 Graphic Designer
This is just for the online stuff. In addition to that, I've applied to Best Buy, Circuit City, Office Max, Blockbuster (2 locations), Hollywood Video (3 locations), GameStop (2 locations), FYI, Carribou Coffee, Burger King, Donato's, Subway, Quiznos, UDF, McDonald's, Wendy's, and Arby's. So far, I haven't even been granted an interview. I haven't applied for anything that I don't have documented experience for, I don't have a criminal record of any sort, and I don't have a single bad reference. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm very definately sick of this shit. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 13th, 2005|01:00 am] |
 | You scored as Artistic. Congratulations, you scored Artistic. You're looking for the unique movie in the bunch. You've probably watched a lot of movies that nobody has ever heard of, and good for you. You also know good filmmaking when you see it. You just get it, no questions asked. Check out: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Amelie, Garden State, Lost in Translation.
Artistic | | 100% | Mindfuck | | 70% | Sci-Fi/Fantasy | | 65% | Sadistic Humour | | 60% | Drama/Suspense | | 55% | Romantic Comedy | | 25% | Mindless Action Flick | | 15% | </td>
Movie Recommendation.
created with QuizFarm.com |
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| This is a long one... |
[Nov. 29th, 2004|07:55 pm] |
So I'm back from Georgia, and I'm feeling a bit introspective. I'm also feeling a bit anti-social, as I've not been alone at all in the past week, and I really need to be alone from time to time. I also discovered that Matthew has a wonderful family, and I hope he realizes how lucky he is. I was raised by a wonderful woman who I loved very much, but after my parents divorced I never saw her again. Her given name was Katherine Black, but I always called her Miss Katie. she was a Black Creole woman of indeterminate age. In the twelve years I knew her, she seemed unchangeable, the one constant in my life. Two things happened this week that made me realize how much I miss her. The first was meeting and spending time with Matthew's parents and grandparents. The second was learning that my favorite person in the entire world, the beautiful and wonderful Jessica, lost her father to cancer Sunday morning. When I learned of this, I wanted so badly to just hold her, and tell her something, anything, that would make her feel even the slightest bit better. I could not do this. I am a stranger to her family, and therefore could not impose myself upon their personal grief. i instead had to try to console her over Matthew's cell phone. I failed miserably. This is because I've never dealt particularly well with death. With the exception of Miss Katie, a hired servant ( I hate referring to her as that, I felt closer to her than I've ever felt to any blood relative I've had, but she was, in fact, hired by my father to raise me), I've never had a visceral relationship with anyone in my family. I don't even know when she died, or for that matter, if she is in fact dead. I can only assume this is so, as she raised my father and aunt, and was older than my paternal grandmother (who died in 1997). When my father died, I was informed, on my birthday (by my mother and maternal grandmother), a full two months after the fact. I will certainly be unaware of my mother's death, as is true of my maternal grandmother, as I expect to never communicate with either. The reasons for which are onerous to detail at this point, but in the case of my mother, all would agree my decision is justified. In the case of my grandmother, the guilt of being non-present for my uncle's death is my only excuse, and an unacceptable one at that. He assumed the role of father and older brother on the rare occasions he was able, and I missed his final moments because I'd dedicated all my time to my little webcomic, and therefore had not the money to go see him. I can't face her after that. I could have at least called, but I was too intent on burying my own grief to do so.
The only time I've truly given in to grief was when I was 21. My fiancee and unborn child were killed while on their way to my birthday celebration. I don't talk about the three years that followed. Suffice to say that they were not especially constructive, productive, or sane. The only reason I survived those years is due to a manufacturing default by Walther. That and friends who refused to sell me the more exotic chemicals I used to blot out the pain and guilt.
I honestly did not intend this entry to go this way, but I oddly refuse to edit or delete it. Instead, I will change topics.
Not only am I caught up on the comic (aside from the afore-mentioned break), but I'm actually ahead. I do need to email Misha and request a script for Friday, though. I've been experimenting with a new style (yes... again...) that closer fits my previous experience. the final two panels in Monday's strip aren't very good (I swear they looked better on the laptop LCD), but I hope that Wednesday's strip will be considered better. I absolutely adore the newest version of Corel Painter. Being able to mix paint directly on the canvas is amazingly freeing.
Sometimes I think I made a mistake in moving to Cleveland. If I hadn't, however, I'd never had met Jae, Katie & Mike (who are now engaged; I should probably congratulate them in their journals, but I'd rather do that in person), Melissa, or Dmitri (whom I've not seen in a very long time, but they are often in my thoughts). And of course, Cheshire Grin never would have started. Despite all the sacrifices, pain (my wrist bothers me quite abominably much of the time), and poverty involved in this frustrating, yet rewarding endeavor, I do love it. There are sufficient reasons that make me think that I wish I could have simultaneously been in both places, though.
I think I'm going to stop rambling now. Howard gave me his copy of Homeworld 2, so perhaps I'll just play that for a bit. |
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| CAA Geek Glee |
[Nov. 1st, 2004|05:56 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  impressed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | American Chopper | ] |
Oh. My. God.
ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod...
Painter IX is the most awesome thing in the history of awesome. The Artist Oils brush set, the tracker, the new and improved palette... the palette...::quiver:: And I've only spent about 5 minutes playing with this thing... it's just... incredible. I'll post a more thorough review after I've finished Wednesday's strip, but for now, I have to finish my linework as soon as possible so I can really cut loose.
Wow. |
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| This Seems a Bit Low... |
[Aug. 2nd, 2004|12:37 am] |
| You are 77% geek |  </td><td valign="top">OK. There is such a thing as too much geekness. I suspect you're spending far too much time with the boys or girls of the Internet. The closer your score is to 100%, the closer you are to going right out the other side and being a nerd. Geeks rule. Where geeks are socially-inept, nerds are socially incompetent. Not even geeks can take nerds. So let's be careful, huh? Watch a little TV, maybe listen to some popular radio, read a little Stephen King, anything to ensure you can communicate with the 99.44% of the population that isn't all that concerned with the minutiae of whatever it is you happen to be geeky about. It's OK to be a geek, but go much further and you'll be a genuine bore.</td></tr>
Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com |
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| Get a Life... and a library card. |
[Jul. 30th, 2004|09:02 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  frustrated | ] |
I find it distressingly difficult to try to hold a conversation with someone whose entire repertiore of allegory is drawn entirely from comic books, science fiction, and fantasy novels. The topic of discussion doesn't particularly matter, the person in question will always use at least 3-4 references from one or more of those sources.
Discussing topics covered during the most recent Gravitation conference? Comic book, comic book, SF, fantasy, "I wish I could access alternate universes."
Philosophy? Fantasy, SF, SF, comic book, "I wish I could access alternate universes."
Computers? SF, SF, SF, SF RPG, "I wish I could access alternate universes."
I think so-and-so might have been late for work today. Comic book, SF, "I wish I had a time machine."
At least things diversify slightly for politics. Dilbert, comic book, SF, Michael Moore, "I wish I could access alternate universes."
I don't talk about art within earshot of him any more. Comic book, comic book, comic book, comic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomic bookcomicbookcomicbookcomicbook, "I wish I could access alternate universes."
To be fair, the topic of magic and superpowers often come up during these discussions, especially considering art and technology.
Don't get me wrong, I love speculative fiction. I don't read comic books, oddly enough, but most of my library does consist of fantasy and SF. The rest, however is computer manuals, science texts aimed at the educated layperson, and a bit of literature. I also have life experience to draw upon.
Oh, I nearly forgot another source of allegory this person has... video games. |
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| Uhm... |
[Jul. 18th, 2004|12:31 am] |
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| If I ever play D&D again... |
[Jun. 15th, 2004|12:58 am] |
I Am A: Chaotic Good GnomeThief Bard
Alignment:
Chaotic Good characters are independent types with a strong belief in the value of goodness. They have little use for governments and other forces of order, and will generally do their own things, without heed to such groups.
Race:
Gnomes are also short, like dwarves, but much skinnier. They have no beards, and are very inclined towards technology, although they have been known to dabble in magic, too. They tend to be fun-loving and fond of jokes and humor. Some gnomes live underground, and some live in cities and villages. They are very tolerant of other races, and are generally well-liked, though occasionally considered frivolous.
Primary Class:
Thieves are the most roguish of the classes. They are sneaky and nimble-fingered, and have skills with traps and locks. While not all use these skills for burglary, that is a common occupation of this class.
Secondary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.
Deity:
Tymora is the Chaotic Good goddess of luck and good fortune. She is also known as Lady Luck, and also Tyche's fair-tressed daughter. Followers of Tymora believe in the tenent that, 'Fortune Favors the Bold,' and will throw caution to the wind and trust to luck to work things out for the best. Tymora's symbol is an unmarked silver disk.
Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy of NeppyMan (e-mail)
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| Technical Difficulties |
[Jun. 10th, 2004|04:44 pm] |
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!!
The monitor on my graphics workstation just blew up. I don't mean, "Oh look, the screen went blank," or "Well then, it went 'pop' and stopped working." No. The motherfucker blew up.
It blew up.
It blew the fuck up.
Smoke, flames, sparks, the whole nine fucking yards. The only thing it didn't do was spray shards of glass in my eyes. That would have really sucked.
So, after 3 1/2 hours of trying to find a monitor that actually works (the monitor on my Linux box has a very particular problem that only Linux seems to be able to deal with), I'm trying to draw the comic on a monitor with a max resolution of 800x600 (though it only uses 640x480 worth of space... you don't even want to know what happens if I actually set it to 640x480), my tablet won't sync up to the new display properly, so I'm using only the upper left 1/3 of the tablet, turning fine motions into gross sweeps of the cursor, and there's a huge curvature to the screen, so everything looks slightly out of whack. Oh, did I mention the screen is interlaced, so I can only stare at it for 20 minutes before my vision goes blurry and my head starts to throb?
Life. Don't talk to me about "Life". |
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| WTF? |
[May. 21st, 2004|12:38 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  blank | ] |
I had the strangest dream last night. Part of what makes it strange is that I remember it. I tend not to remember dreams. anyways...
I dreamt that I had been shot, 6 or 8 times in the back, 3 times in the chest, with arrows. By the local constabulary. Led by Captain Carrot (I haven't even got around to reading Pratchett yet...). I don't remember why I was shot, or what precisely I was doing, but I do remember that my ass was dangling out a second story window. I was also wearing my 16 year old (on June 12th, anyway) motorcycle jacket, and I was rather pissed off about having holes punched in it, in addition having holes punched in me. So I'm wandering around the streets of this small town (circa 1980's feel), looking for a hospital, but all I can find are closed restaurants and car dealerships. Also, there is no one out and about. I didn't think this was odd at the time, so I'm guessing it was really early in the morning. The light had that quality to it, at least. Finally, I find an old woman who bums a smoke off me, and I ask her where the closest hospital is. She points to the car dealership across the corner.
"No," I say, "I want a human hospital. Besides, have you ever tried to get your car fixed at the dealership? They charge twice what's necessary, and I'd be waiting for weeks, by which time I'll be well dead."
"Well then," she says, "at least then you won't have to worry about what they charge, will you?"
"Good point. But I think I'd rather expire in the park across the street than deal with the paperwork, aggravation, and Muzak." After this, we parted ways and I continue my search.
I cut across the park, as I could see what bordered it on the side I'd been walking towards (another car lot and an insurance provider), but could not see what lay across it. I saw several very cute finches, a few chipmunks, and a bunny (I luuuuuf bunnies). Cheered by this, I continued my trek across the park, passing a playground on the way. I was in such a good mood at this point that I briefly considered playing on the flying jenny for a bit before continuing my search (a flying jenny is a cross between a see-saw and merry-go-round, if you don't already know). I should point out at this time that I was in very little pain in this part of the dream. Just an annoying itch where each of the shafts penetrated my torso, and a dull ache deep in my chest whenever I moved or breathed. I exited the park to find another car lot and two restaurants. As i set off down the street again, I come across a fellow that looks a lot like the singer and guitarist for The Green Hit (Russ Bledsoe) just as a guy in a silvery sports car pulls up. I ask Russ where the hospitals are (I think I used the plural, my mistake if I did), and he responds, "You mean besides West General? Well, there's..." He then names off about six car dealerships whose names I can't remember, and upon naming the last one, points across the street.
"But I don't want to go to a mechanic," I say, somewhat exasperated by this point, "I want to go to a proper doctor." The fellow in the sports car, who, I just realized, looked a lot like Matthew McConaughey's character in Dazed and Confused, offers to take me to West General, if I really want to go all the way across town. I had to get into the back seat of the car, partly because I had to kneel in the floorboard due to all the arrows sticking out of me, and partly because his girlfriend (whom I don't have a clear image of) had claimed shotgun. I hadn't removed any of the arrows because I didn't want to cause any further damage, or unplug the holes they had made, allowing even more blood to escape my body than already had. I quite vividly remember the episode "of whatever that paramedic show that had Lou Ferigno in it was called" where a guy gets shot, through the heart, with a practice arrow, and yet does not die because the shaft was effectively sealing the wound. A work of the most ludicrous fiction, of course; the heart would have ripped itself apart around the shaft, but still it illustrates the point.
Shortly after the ride to the hospital began, I started to take a turn for the worse. Every breath became shallow and very,very painful. Matthew offered me a cigarette, but I decline. I tried to quip wittily, "No thanks, my lungs are already full of fucking arrows!! I don't really think there's any room for smoke," but all that came out was a weak, gurgling croak. The girlfriend then said, her voice full of fear, "He must be in really bad shape to turn down a cigarette."
Apparently she knew me.
Shortly thereafter, I started getting really bad. My head was lolling over the front bench seat, every breath was very shallow indeed, and followed by a rasping cough that sent fresh waves of pain and nausea through my body. Everything was very, very dark, and I was begining to feel sleepy. Matthew said, "I we don't do something, he's going to die in this fucking car." He then reached back to pluck one of the arrows from my back, assumedly to relieve my breathing a bit. I tried to cry out, "Don't! It's a hunting tip!" but all that came out was a spray of blood and saliva.
The dream ends there. I felt as if I was falling asleep, which, in reality, was precisely what my mind was doing, but I assume that I died in that dream.
Ah well. I guess I should have gone to a car dealership. |
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