Friday, January 23, 2009

Ah, yesteryear

I was in 7th grade when I drew this. My English teacher at the time (we called him Mr. Bogus) got the starring role in this one.

Funny how your tastes mature, but never really change.

It's a lot of fun to go back to things you did 15 years ago and see what you do now in comparison. Sometimes you feel good about yourself and sometimes you don't. Here I see laziness in not taking the menace of the original. I think I'll do that and post it up here later. Carry the old concept through, right?

It helps me not have to think about the drawing as much. Just see where it takes me now and be grateful for the experiences that lead me to this point.

I know. Boring. I'll post something more entertaining next time.

Thursday, January 15, 2009


I've been reading up and working on my Shadowrun character. I was told that the group lacks a troll and a technomancer, so I made a troll technomancer. (WE R HELPING. [/Reboot reference]) I worked on my character sheet while I watched a movie.

I think you know where this is going.

Say hi to Cody.

This doodle will be the first of many I hope. Isn't he cute? (Considering he's a troll.) I'm still working through lore and working on a backstory and vital stats. We'll see what he evolves into as things go on. I'm also not really familiar with the subtleties of cyberpunk enough to design something that isn't hackney as all shit. (I'd prefer he's not looking like some animu punk chic on steriods.)

In other news, I locked myself out of my apartment this morning like a moron. It was fun waiting nearly 3 hours for someone to let me in. At least I did some reading up on what a technomancer actually does in the mean time.

I'll have to promise something more interesting next time.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Where were you last night? (Short Story)

"Where were you last night?"

The idly posed question dissipates between us like my condensed breath dragging itself up the chilled night. Inside my jacket pockets, my hands are just as idle, so I squeeze my arms closer to my person in a motion that is meant to look like I seek warmth. Really, I'm just trying to focus on something besides the ghastly green iris that points in my direction at my voice, much as my unanswered question was posed just to give me some other sound to listen to.

The silence of the night screams in my ears during the seconds that his sidelong stare is on me. Shouldn't there be tires rolling somewhere? A cell phone ringing? A lady's heels tic ticking as she scurries home from the bus stop? Of course, we don't want any of these things and this silence is safer than any indications of human presence. Still, I don't know which is worse... Listening to him eat or NOT listening to him eat. I don't think I could choose, although it doesn't matter as he chooses for me.

I should have brought a book or something.

"You should have gone home." Ugh. Telepathy. Right.

"Cut that out. You know I hate that." As I mutter the words, I'm grateful that he gives me a reason to focus on my own voice. He's watching me again, but I don't look at him. This time, his head hasn't lifted and his jaw is still moving. Alright, that's a lie. I kind of don't look. In that crouched position on the pavement, his head bobs in a familiar motion that almost makes me blush. The short tearing sounds that come with each pull are somewhat like what I'd imagine ripping wet jeans wound sound like. Not that I've ever ripped wet jeans. After a minute or so, the grinding of meat between his molars stops and he swallows audibly.

"You were projecting." Oh.

"Oh." He snorts softly in rebuttal, before hiding his maw from me in the steaming dark stew. So much for conversation.

I imagine myself a smoker, releasing frustration into the night as I sigh softly, when he tells me to go home again. I wasn't gonna leave him though. He needed me. Who else would hold his clothes so they didn't get dirty? Who else would watch for any danger while he was vulnerable? Who else would understand that he needed this to live?

His weight shifts as he dips a hand into the makeshift bowl that walked less than an hour ago. There is a snap of bone and cartilage as he removes the barrier of a sternum and lowers his head once more. Not really a snout. Not really a muzzle. More like a protrusion of gum and teeth.

I notice, all to late that my breath is coming back at me. Not that there would be any time to do anything as the changing direction of the breeze was faster than I could ever move. My stomach turns violently as I'm hit with the stench of fluids that aren't meant to make contact with air.

Raw death.

The thick sound I can only equate to a large tub of hearty, thick oatmeal being slopped around with one's hands does anything but help me bite back the bile that threatens to say hello to the pavement. By my stomach's second uprising, I have my trusty plastic bag in hand.

He watches me as I spit the remnants of my weakness into the bag. I imagined he'd stopped eating when I doubled over. As I look up, that eerie iris turns from me, focusing on the remainder of his meal.

"..." I quirk a brow in question as I tie off the bag (moving back upwind, of course). His soiled jaw shifts, as though he wants to attempt to say something again, but he changes his mind. Crap. I must have projected again. I don't know what to say to him either, so instead, I just watch, noticing that he's not going back to his food. This silence jabs at me, prodding as I attempt to think of something to brush it away with that won't seem stupid.

"Done already?" Silence answers for him in its increasingly annoying fashion. This time it's the one to chase it off is him.

"Left pocket of my jacket." He doesn't wait for me to crouch where I'd dropped his clothes in my rush for the bag and find whatever it is he's talking about as he lowers himself to continue. My fingers slip into the cool folds of cotton and wrap around something peach fuzzy and hard. I glace up at him, though he ignores me. As we crouch together on cold pavement, chilly air slipping over, I stare at the contents of the box. A plain silver band, engraved with unfamiliar etchings and glyphs. I don't get a chance to ask before I hear his voice. "I was looking through the things my family left to me last night. My father gave that to my mother the night he asked her to spend forever with him. It won't fit your finger." After a few moments, I hear the oatmeal again, but now I have something more important to do than listen to him eat or feel sick. I smile.

"I'll wear it on a chain." He pauses before his jaw moves again, giving me a silence that broadens my smile.


This is a concept for a comic story. A buddy of mine asked me to start putting my writing up here. Thanks for reading. Hope that was more interesting than my cat and drawing lessons.

Friday, January 2, 2009

New Years resolutions are bullshit.

You want to know why they're bullshit? In a month or two the year ain't knew. And you'll look at that resolution you pulled out your ass, yet another year, realize what it really is and flush it.

Rather than making dumb resolutions I, like everyone else, won't keep, I'm going to reaffirm some small goals.

Get through Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards. She's got some great ideas, albeit a bit windy. The thing I need to reaffirm is sitting through an entire book in one sitting. I have the attention span of a goldfish (with the memory to match). But, it's only 270 pages. If I can read through a synopsis of Twilight (mostly), I can definitely stay focused on this. Speaking of which, my sister is starting her blog that will contain her editorials and reviews. I'll be doing cartoons for it. You have GOT to read her Twilight review. I'll stick it up here once it's available.

Anyways, DRSotB is a 5 day intensive course. The book has the same exercises and lessons. Before we start, Miss Betty asks us to draw things to make a point of reference. So here are mine. (Let's keep in mind that I'm a cartoonist, so drawing realistically isn't something I do all that great yet. But that's why I'm learning!)

You may point and laugh now. I know I am.
Self portrait. It's the classic look in a mirror and draw yourself. They said to spend an hour, but I think I did this in 15-20 minutes. We're supposed to look for advantages (her choice of words, not mine) and disadvantages in (of?) the drawings. So I'll do so for each.
A - It kind of looks like me. A little. I think I captured the lack of hair pretty well. This is encouraging because it makes me feel like I can make it as a police sketch artist.
D - I made myself look like a fucking serial rapist. Good work...
I made my chin and mouth much more narrow than they really are. My mouth isn't that tiny. Haha. And I have a fat head. But that's what makes me charming. (Right.)
Draw someone you know from memory. I did a sketch of my sister.
A - It's expressive and reminds me very much of her. Looks like her. (Maybe.)
D - Kind of lopsided.

It went faster than the self portrait. I find it interesting that after these excecises, I read on and Miss Betty states,

"I'm sure the picture from memory was difficult for you, and rightfully so. Even a trained artist will find if difficult to draw a person from memory."

I guess she doesn't deal with cartoonists much. Overlooked yet again by artistic academia, it seems. I found the drawing from memory much easier. I suppose it's because cartoonists look inward to express something about that person, rather than make it accurate. I'm sure when I put this up to my sister's face and compare, it's not a likeness, but it's an expression of who she is to me, I suppose.

And last, (and certainly least) I was to draw my hand.

Hur hur.

A - The palm/flat of the hand looks alright.
D - That's about all that looks alright.

I admit, I lost interest at this point because I've never attempted a self portrait before and it was a lot more interesting than drawing my hand, which I've done before. I'm sure had I paid more attention to the lengths of the finger segments it wouldn't look like something out of a Del Toro design. (For the record though, I love long spiderlike fingers on characters and I love the visual quality of his visions.)

If you read all this, kudos. It was boring, but you made it this far. I'll be sure to be more interesting next time.