Vassar Dormroom

I'm really starting to like this photoshop artwork stuff. A laptop computer and small Wacom tablet are, in many ways, like a sketchbook and pencil. A really heavy and expensive sketchbook and pencil, but portable and small nonetheless.

Doorway

Glow worms are disgusting.

I am glad there are no glow worms anywhere around. Planet Earth is the most beautiful documentary there is, but nothing can make glow worms look not disgusting.

In other news, this:

The more I draw in photoshop, the more I realize I just want to be using charcoal and pastels. If only charcoal had opacity and size settings...

Well, I drew something

Pose blatantly stolen from a celebrity. But WHICH celebrity, huh? Is it still breaching copyright if I hint at the fact that I didn't think of it first?

The colors make me think of tank girl. I don't think I've seen that movie all the way through.

Happy minutes after St. Patty's day

Am I going about this the wrong way? I'm mostly treating this blog as a sketch dump when it can be oh so much more. I can list ideas; use it as a literary "sketch" book. I can muse out loud to myself and nothing that I do or write will hold any significance.

I need to learn to juggle better. I want to learn to juggle better. I have reached a plateau where I will not get better at anything unless I actively pursue it at least a little bit every day. There are so few hours in a day after one works full-time. 8 hours are work. 1 hour is lunch. (Ideally) another 8 hours are sleep. That leaves only 7 hours of freedom. FREEDOM to do whatever you want. Now, let's not forget that one needs to eat as well, and that may take another hour or two out assuming you need to prepare, consume, and then clean up your food. So we have five hours in a day?

The only way out of this is to make money by doing something that you love. I need to find a way to fulfill myself in a productive manner for those 8 working hours and bring in enough money to pay for food, rent, and "oh shit my car just broke down again".  Jeremy and I are making a board game. We got a LOT of good progress done on it yesterday, but did nothing today due to his being sickly-feeling and my being tired.

Why am I tired? I went to the gym every day for four days straight last week! I got to the weekend and feel into a sloth-like stupor where I spent most of my time staring at a computer screen doing mindless WoW errands to accumulate gold for myself. In other words, I may have been playing 3D pong or looking at porn for all the good it did me. What a waste of time.

I'm going to draw something now. I have several projects that I "should" be working on right now, but I'm not inspired by them. I don't WANT to, and art cannot be forced. At least not good art. I'll see you again in 15 minutes or so.

The opposite of Productivity is Conductivity

...but what does that mean???

On the other side of my cognitive one-liners, I realized that James Bond is very much like a professional basketball player. All he does is kill people with guns and sleep with women.

In other words, he shoots, and he scores.

Backlog of sketches

I feel sort of bad waiting several days after drawing these sketches before I upload them, but then I realize that I'm still the only person who knows about this blog, so it's all okay!

Anonymity is bliss!

Kill Bill is a great movie(s?). I had forgotten then until I marathoned them together.

Mind Candy

It's so, so sweet. It fills your brain and numbs you, takes away your eyes and ears and hands and tongue and breath. It makes you forget.

You forget... something.

What is this post about? My Orc Shaman?

I hereby promise to not play WoW for one full day. Starting yesterday. I win!

Whoops, no, two hours to go. I made art today, with charcoal and paper and my hands and my eyes and my feelings. How I felt at the time I was making it. I had music playing, and I was in my room, with my charcoal and my paper and my hands. I laid six of our 800 plastic bags on my floor to keep the charcoal out. Now I need some tape or something to put it on the wall, like a proper picture. That's where pictures live, on the wall. Not on the floor, like some dirty ragamuffin sitting in your way. You could trip over it. Smear it. Then it wouldn't be art anymore. It would be abstract art.

Shit was SO cash.