I have never wanted a doll so much more in my life.
I have however, always wanted a gang of cartoon friends… I suppose my pals now are pretty close to that. Ha.
PS- Byebyebyebye Keiko. There are worse fates than Japan.
Finally got a scanner. Motivation + $1,000,000.
Above: Aaron Kaneshiro
Below: Aaron Kaneshiro’s Art
Check out more of his stuff by clicking the link, “SHUNGA” on the left. Funny, alienating kind of stuff. I’m pretty in to it.
Scans of my stuff coming soon I hope? I think I’m gonna’ buy myself one of those machines for my birthday and stop complaining about it.
*NOTE*
I am writing for The Green Apple Core every Monday now. If you want to read my ramblings on books and authors further than what I already chatter about here, well, you can I guess.
A girl I knew was obsessed with things along the line of obese women doing anal and cannibals. My roommate talks constantly of the plight of the big man, pugs and black masks. I myself am redundant with daydreams of cartoon afterlives and skin conditions*. Could have been dogs and Russian dictators and guns I suppose. Um, well, what else is there?
*And a quick note on the skin condition:
Its nature must be that it appears so suddenly that the initial blemish is a shock, subtle to begin and not to irritate for many hours after its debut (78, minimum). It strays away from the feet or genitalia so that one cannot determine it’s origin flat out. Venues arms, legs and chest. Otherwise where is the mystery in it?
(art by strange man, Alexander Lobanov)
My last couple rolls of film were kind of sucky… well, one kind of and one very. The ‘very sucky’ one being one where I managed to hold my camera in drunken conversation and shoot pictures of floor, knees, almost nothing, for the bulk of the roll without realizing. On the not so burnt side of the bread however, I got some select prints in the mail from previous rolls that I am pretty proud of. I suppose I’ll mount them soonish and do I don’t know what with them after that.
Derek and Kathryn’s stop in SF left me inspired to get more on top of drawing again. Those kids are unstoppable. Furthermore they’re probably the only two people who get me really thinking about how I motivate that part of my brain (i.e. what I pull illustration specific inspiration from). If I can get in touch with the elusive Matt Delight I am going to exploit his scanner next weekend and finally get the last few choice selections from my sketchpad up on the interweb. Kurt the Cat has a real distinct evolution in it, and in all honesty I can see that from the first page to the last page I really did improve a lot of things about my own drawings.
New pens, new paper, new rolls of film and new MS Word documents. I will officially be one year older soon. Nicholas is jolliest when the sun is hot and he is in the river.
It’s funny, not so ha-ha but weird, how one can become so consumed by ennui, flattened by it, unwilling to twitch a muscle while there are still so many strange things in this place. It is a world that exhausts the definition of miscellany beyond imagination. It is the mentally retarded to volcanos to Bingo (the song about the dog or the game) to maniacs in castles or building castles or removing castles from ever having existed or who knows? Fish? Time? The heart on the outside of the boy’s body today? And avoid the idea of a traditional bathroom, supported by thousands of miles of perfect plumbing running behind it. Oh no.
It’s funny, not so ha-ha at all, how a world of so many curiosities can leave so many stricken lame, parked in front of drying tar without a second thought toward the tar itself. Not even the contemplation of feathers.
Now I am wondering, what is the difference between ‘too tedious’ and ‘not tedious enough.’
Got this cool email from my mom:
no good news. Lucy has lymphoma. the next step is to get an ultrasound to see if there’s cancer anywhere else. that’s $320, not to mention the $670 I paid yesterday for all the other tests and xrays. but still I need to know how bad it is so I can decide what to do. more than likely she will get a chemo treatment of sorts, which is cortisone and prednisone w/ lucoren (pills). more aggressive treatment would involve injections which the vet said were very expensive, or take her to the oncologist in Concord which I won’t do. I’d rather work w/ the internist here and see if something can be done to shrink any tumors and keep her happy for as long as possible. the vet said depending on what they find and how bad it is, many dogs w/ lymphoma can stay fairly healthy and have a good life for another year, so that’s what I’m hoping for.
but I’m so very sad . . .
And I’m so busy working for money that strangers just keep taking anyway, I don’t even have time to go see her…
Okay, so I picked out my summer reading for this year. My goals are pretty lofty (like 12 books) but the following list is what I actually think I might finish in the two and a half months left:
- Moravagine by Blaise Cendrars
- Pan by Knut Hamsun
- Ask the Dust by John Fante
- The Dirty Havana Trilogy by Pedro Juan Gutierrez
- Men and Cartoons by Jonathan Lethem
- Atmospheric Disturbances by Rivka Galchen
I’m just about done trudging through Norwegian Wood. I love Murakami but I have to say that this book is my least favorite read by him so far. Maybe it’s too “normal” or something. Although the love story is totally sad and relatable I’m definitely attracted to his more surreal work. A good moment here and there but I feel like I could talk to a lot of my friends about their shitty, weird relationships and get the same thing from it. Henceforth I am really looking forward to “Moravagine” (translates to ‘Death to the Vagina’). It’s a departure from what I normally read I think, and possibly the perfect follow up to a dry love story just might be some totally fucked tale of a misogynist mass murderer- “a stinking, crawling hunk of fantasty.” Woah. Here’s Henry Miller on the book:
“There were times when reading Cendrars — and this is something which happens to me rarely — that I put the book down in order to wring my hands with joy or despair, with anguish or with desperation.”
This Wednesday I’ll finally be meeting with Fred to get the keys to Thrillhouse Records. I’ll be volunteering there every Friday 4 – X until I get sick of it or something comes up. I am hoping the forced hours alone with a notepad and sketchbook (it’s real slow there) will get me rolling on the eight million ideas that I’ve had over the last month or so. Maybe I will even finish Lafa. Funny that I plan on volunteering at a business for alone time. Hah. I am stoked on this.[..]
…And on the topic of stoked. I’m looking for a new style to be stoked on. The Mickey Mouse thing is still pretty awesome but after I buy this one gross yellow on white Mikey sweatshirt that I have my eye on (that’s right, Mickey’s skin is yellow on it) then I think I’ll have done all that I can do. I’m thinking golf style maybe? If you think about it it’s really not too far off from Tintin’s digs. Just ditch the goofball hat.
I think that would be a good weekday look, while on the weekends I could wear shitty golf dad shirts with stupid golf dad jokes like:
1. Back straight, knees bent, feet shoulder width apart.
2. Form a loose grip.
3. Keep your head down.
4. Avoid a quick back swing.
5. Stay out of the water.
6. Try not to hit anyone.
7. If you are taking too long, please let others go ahead of you.
8. Don’t stand directly in front of others.
9. Quiet please … while others are preparing to go.
10. Don’t take extra strokes.
Now, that’s very good. Flush the urinal, go outside, and tee off.
Yes I Googled “GOLF DAD JOKE” for that.
Okay, I’m tired and really should fight my nightmares and try to get some sleep for work tomorrow. I’ll drop out with a quick note on Enki Bilal’s artwork though. It’s not my thing at all, but aside from the Sci-Fi comics he did that don’t pique my interest he’s the talent behind this picture of Tintin that I stumbled across. I would have been mad about it when I was ten. Childhood love of gritty adventure. Feel it with me.
