Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Want.

The wall is right in front of me, and I have several options.

I could either sit on the ground, with my back against it, attempt to climb it with a ladder of some sort, or just back up a few hundred paces, take a swig of water, get a running start, and jump right over it. Whoosh. Just like that, in one swift motion.

(Damn – I’d look good.)

I like that wall – it’s making me think.

Tired of metaphors, Immense Crowd of Faithful Readers? Okay. So am I.

I’ve been delving into the wonderful endless universe(s) of blogs and have recently discovered a fascination for comics. You know, graphic novels, like. They make me laugh out loud. They make me think. I’m reading V for Vendetta these days. Whew. Good stuff. And with my reddened eyes full of tears, I had a – you know – a eureka moment. Where’s my drum roll?

I could draw my own! (Note to self: staring at a screen for over an hour: not good)

That’s right. I have tons of paper down in my craftycraft room (yessss, Ladies & Gents, I have one of those.) not to mention a table I never sit at. And a good lamp. I have a shoebox full of pens that are, at this point, probably planning a riot, since I never use them. Don’t I have everything I need? What? Technique? Pff. Technique schmechnique. I can doodle.

So you see the wall, now?

Either I:

a) Keep enjoying the warm fuzzy rays of other people’s drawings. Extract the goodness like coconut juice and store it somewhere in my brain. Or;
b) Learn some tricks of the trade. Take some drawing lessons. Talk to the people I know who have drawn for at least as long as I’ve known them (phew – 17 years…). Ooooor;
c) Just. Draw.


I’ll keep you posted and let you know how things turn out. You wanna vote? You can vote, if you want.


http://www.dccomics.com/sites/v_for_vendetta/

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Croix de Laiton.

au loin courent les images fluides du temps imparfait
les grises faucheuses emmènent avec elles les aurores

un courant de figures excentriques les séparent
la raison et la haine partagent le sceptre

ô chanvre imparfait le silence est mort
douce croix de laiton enterrée sous la glace noire

fibre de ma chair chair de ma peau peau de mon air
aire de repos simple sourire ô mon bourreau

rage des mots je découvre le sens des sons
immobile je me confonds

au nord d’ici quelque part très loin
les couronnes d’or encerclent les pins

l’aurore scintillante amènera le froid
au nord d’ici, quelque part très loin

me sens rongés par la folie se défont
et ils coulent je me noie dans la houle

le feu des éternels brûlera ce soir
les sacrifices spirituels sont terminés

aux rebelles du soir je lève mon chapeau
aux vampires infidèles je soupire d’ennui

The Thing in the Box.

It's there.

It's in the box.

The box has been sitting on the floor for days. The oblong metal keeps its secret under its lid, which neatly snaps into place when gentle pressure is applied. I've been sitting here for five minutes, looking at it.

There's my first knitted glove in there. I'm going to knit now.


Friday, April 04, 2008

Fitness Test.

Ugh.

It's Friday, Ladies and Cats. And Friday - especially in the evening, after a full work week - is a good time to play Wii Golf with one's spouse, kick back with a martini, and take things easy.

Goddamn my life is good. Why do I ever complain about anything?

Have a cold one, friends. Enjoy.
And yes - Boo still owns me.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

Boo.


See here, Don Estorbo: this is
The Boo Who Owns Me.
(no lies. he completely owns me.)