2306152 Existence Is
A yearlong blog experiment...
Tuesday March 06th 2012, 9:19 pm
Talon! A menagerie of fantastical sagas told long ago. Overblown heroic statures and dynamic brilliant colors of a psychedelic idealized world of adventure popping off my wall. Bountiful vitality of dreamed callow machismo and a tangle of teenage sexual underpinnings, of tough men and lusty women. Rooted in phantasmagorical delights with surreal punches of inspired nostalgia of simplistic pleasures. The related idea of it’s meaning so much more profound than the reality whence immersed in understanding it’s visual lore from a significant mature perspective. Gazed upon daily, the imagined possibilities represented in a single luxurious illustration provokes the mind better than any fully exposed story.
Steranko Lives In My Studio
March 6th 2012
Monday March 05th 2012, 9:47 pm
blah blah blah Writing blah blah blah blah Errands blah blah Coffee blah blah bleh bleh blah Late bleh bleh bluh blah Tired bleh blih bleh and BLAH.
I’m blahing Cheating
March 5th 2012
Sunday March 04th 2012, 10:42 pm
Sometimes we get an itch to just go and go
getting in our “robot” car
we don’t care how far
as long as we reach the snow
Twisting roads of rolling tall grasses
releasing ourselves from the concrete masses
Overhead condors winging
bopping along with the radio singing
chilled fingers tingling
only numb slight
from snowball fights
like childhood delight
Gazing upon two old trees grown as lovers
black bold crows flirt and hover
swaying among rustling leaves that cover
Arm in arm among giant frosty tipped boulders
high and lofty topped and shouldered
by mountains made magnificent
blanketing pines of breathed freshest scent
Air rushes of frothy gleaming streams with
bending branch breezy and chiseled dusty cliff
Classically of comfort romantically
under Bridalveil Falls above
shining and misty
embraced smiles as my sweetest love
kisses me tenderly
Wonderful To Be Alive On An Easy Sunday Drive
March 4th 2012
Saturday March 03rd 2012, 8:30 pm
Kicking back, putting my feet up, and pushing play. The screen flashes pop neon colors against stark gothic greasy blacks. Encased within a slightly schizophrenic rambling is the story of that gloriously raucous fucker, Ian Dury, as theatrical musicality bursts forth through vividly staged chaos. Tough and glittery discovery of a legendary icon of an era that echoes through the halls of rock and roll history. I twist off the lid, dip in and lift self indulgence embodied within a thick spoonful of sweet. Coolness glides across my tongue releasing poignantly commingled tastes of strawberry, banana, and chocolate swirling into cascades of emotive dreaminess that collide with the rugged textures and nutty counterbalance of walnut. Somehow these two experiences seem to meld into a proper emotional state of twitchy.
Punk Rock Ice Cream
March 3rd 2012
Friday March 02nd 2012, 11:06 pm
A flowing from the nether workings my subconscious, where synapses meld with universes, are sparks of notions becoming self aware. Propelling from esoteric abstractions to take root into some form of cohesive narrative that we call thoughts. Language ebbing in jittering spurts of verbose tangents onto the screen, my pad, my booklet of musings. Formative and questioning each and every choice. Looking for the right combinations and interpretations that have purpose. Made into simple directness, but with covert subtexts. Conceptualizations born from unknown recesses, Story is looking for story, an entertaining story that can resonate, at least hopefully so. One that can last, one that can be valued beyond this moment. My meager worded inscriptions attempting to be worthy of what is being whispered within me. I am listening as best as I can.
Downloading From Ideaspace
March 2nd 2012
Thursday March 01st 2012, 9:46 pm
Slightly slender, but nicely tall. Filled with lustrous dark and crisp aromatic bliss, one scent of it causes cravings in anticipation of that first invigorating taste of the day. A blanched creamy gloss, strong, sturdy and feels so warm. My hands wrap it softly, while my fingers absently and gingerly caress the sublime sleek length. Cusping the rim at my mouth, I drink. This soothing action melds into the enterprise of the day. The absolute perfect accompaniment to the vivid fertile task yet to be complete. Informative decisions of design and captivating palettes, textures and digital paint. Intensely hot reds playing against encircling muted grays, set against a sheer white vibrancy. I think I’m pleased with the results on this cover this time. I like the way it tickles my brain. It pushes things simplistically into a new direction from what I’ve shown before on this project. It feels good today, like I always think it should. I’m moving past obsidian thoughts with impressions that clinging turmoil is sliding off and due to fade into washed out nothingness. Drifting to safer opalescent harbors, a light at the end of psychic winter is brightening. Today is a new day. A new month is here. The vitality of re-energized spring is looming closer toward arrival. I can sense it in the air, change will come. I hit “save” and take another sip.
Coffee In Tandem With Color
March 1st 2012
Wednesday February 29th 2012, 8:07 pm
When first devising this yearlong daily blog project and creating the numbering title system, it was pointed out to me by my good friend Scott Johnson that I hadn’t taken into account that it was leap year. My response was “oh Crap!” and “uh…derrr…umm” But it was too late to really do anything about it as I’d already begun the process. So what you’ve just read is my blog today acknowledging that it is indeed leap year day or whatever. To which I’m basically saying nothing that has any value. Just blathering on and likely wasting this past minute of your time.
Look Before Leaping!
February 29th 2012
Tuesday February 28th 2012, 8:58 pm
Angry and edged up, frustrated, want to tear and rip, burn it all down. The overzealous disrespect of others is leaving a bad taste in my mouth, arrogance is the word of the day. Some people think it is just fine to trample over thought out work that we’ve put so much effort into. Attempting to darken the halls of my sanity, there is no gaining meaning in that. But rather than focus on this willful devious behavior of others, I banish them from my heart and look elsewhere for my joys…I have the love of my beautiful wife, I have the love of my precious cat family, I have the love of my dear friends, I have the love of my ambitious work, I have the love my warm home, I have the love of my inner well being, I have the love of good food, I have the love of imaginative comics, I have the love of adventurous music, I have the love of discovery that comes from an open mind, I have the love of so many wonderful things…
Love Listing The Dark Away
February 28th 2012
Monday February 27th 2012, 8:33 pm
Bleeps of synthesized trumpets, heralding the competitions forthcoming. Lit bright candy rainbow colors, exulting that fun, fun fun, is here. So cheer, cheer! Another round of blaring trumpets and we’re off! Bombastic! Running back and forth, getting heated, getting very serious now. Gotta take my shirt off so I can get down to business. Need to be accurate and quick, no screwin’ around. Swinging to and fro, an assertion of dexterity, and exertion of will. Concentration is of utmost importance at this critical stage, breaking a sweat now. Oh Ho! I’ve broken the coveted barrier craved by all contestants, reaching an all time new level. I am such a Pro! Speeding at my little “mii” with rapid-fire digital light trails, bouncing and beaming from side to side. Damn thats fast! Oh crap! Arrgh! Yow! No. No. No…Now I’m getting my ass kicked!
Playing Wii Tennis
February 27th 2012
Sunday February 26th 2012, 9:17 pm
Under a thick blanket of ashen toned cloud stretching across from horizon to horizon, we stand delighted in the chilled crisp airy atmosphere. Inspired by the calmness of the cool day, divine a sense of serenity. Just being in this very moment while observing the low level spindly branches that curve in all directions before our quiet faces. As if they’re searching in slow motion for communication and understanding of the earthy garden in which they live. They stand tall and proud, in a line like a group of stage performers waiting for the curtain to rise, angelic with little pops of young soft ethereal light pink blooms of joy. The scent they give being a fascinating aroma of savory sweet nuttiness, delivering lucid pleasure to our minds with each tempered breath. Simple enchantment such as this is what I desire each day.
Just To Be Under The Blossoming Plum Tree
February 26th 2012
Saturday February 25th 2012, 7:51 pm
Squat and rounded, roughly 6 inches tall with smooth beveled edges. Made of bright shiny metallics, latticed patterns of painted whites, daintily carved flowers of green, purple and pink, and accents of red. These details flourish against the silver, gleamingly caught by resplendent light falling across the curvature. There is a quiet ease to it while at the same it speaks volumes in meaning. Finding the right one was challenging, making sure it felt best, and worthy. There is an uncertain comfort in it, in our choice, as it will always remind of what we have left of her. All of the goofy and frustrating and adoring moments, the memories we have of her in our life. A symbol of our peace and love for her.
The Arrival Of An Urn For Tabitha
February 25th 2012
Friday February 24th 2012, 10:53 pm
Long, deceivingly hard, sturdy, and of retro-elegance. She basks upon our fireplace hearth, laying back in a glamourous worhsip her fashion. There is a subtle happy innocent flirtatiousness to her gaze, ruby red perfectly shaped lips and mesmerizing eyes. Her peachy tonal curves float along leisurely into swift floods of creamy oranges, bubblegum pinks, and pale mint greens. Her textures dovetailing into an impeccable ribbed triangle at her ends. Cloistered near her warm porcelain skin are clamshells and spiraled horn crabshells and flowing strands of seaweed. One arm is raised up as she runs her hand through her exquisite sleekly long sculpted light brown hair that dangles at her rounded shoulders. Her body arches seductively on a bed of light grey stones, as she playfully mingles with a small dolphin at her bare breast. She is regal and charming, relaxed and confident, harmonious and supple. She is a glorious set piece of a bygone era, living at one time for the decorative pleasures of a long lost theme world. A beckoning immured show-stopper that has settled here with us.
The Mermaid That Calls Our Living Room Home
February 24th 2012
Thursday February 23rd 2012, 11:14 pm
Bursts of intoxicating pinks, soft black speckles sprinkled along lush purples, deep mauves and fine powdery whites. Sinewy greens of varied hues running down into a clear lake of life giving aqueous sustenance. To a minuscule insect it must seem as if there is no other place to be than this, private, unconcerned with what lingers across the far reaches of the infinite room, the other side of a scaled world too far away to matter. This perfect place is filled with luminous textures, cozy crevices and layers of shadowed massive fleshy ledges that arc across the blurred sky. All in vivid radiant rapturous iridescence, unfurled in abundance and allure. The very air is a perfume that attracts tranquility. Upon very close study, its easy to realize that there isn’t much of anything that is more beautiful.
A Vase Of Flowers
February 23rd 2012
Wednesday February 22nd 2012, 9:40 pm
Smooth and flowing, black silky liquid gliding across planned faded blue marks, breathing vitality into rudimentary constructions of little dimension. Progressing full aspects of character that live in the scripted performances, blurring the delineation between reality and story. What do they do when we’re not looking? It fascinates as well as frustrates how different days produce entirely different results when working creatively. It is pleasure when it all comes together as expected, the images wondrously pouring forth with contented familiarity. Their lives speaking to me, through me, whispering the appropriate approach and actions. Like they trust me to give them a voice that is worthy of their existence. Brought to clarity by hand, pencil, ink and brush. This is how we glimpse them. Their lives on the art board, showing our world they are here, this is how they let us know.
Creation People
February 22nd 2012
Wednesday February 22nd 2012, 1:18 am
Awfully ambivalent about work stuff lately, have been for a couple weeks now. Things I can’t really talk about properly. It really seems to have set in today. Fortunately I’m relatively regimented. Being creatively strong only comes in spurts I guess. Not sure why, but I’m finding it hard to be motivated, maybe its a weird idea gap happening in my brain, a chasm I can’t seem to find the bridge to cross it right now. I’m just shouting into this great canyon of malaise and only muffled echoes of myself sounding back at me. And I can’t really see the other side either, just all fogged in. It didn’t help my emotional state that Tabby’s ashes arrived today. Brings up the pain we’ve had for the past week, not that it was under the surface very deeply as it is. Seeing the little tiny box that contains what is left of her physical body was tough. But in some way, we feel like she’s home, there is something awkwardly reassuring about that. Peculiarly, even though I’m feeling so lackluster, my imagination still has pops and sparks, sputtering an idea or two for new story concepts. I also managed to work on a page layout a little before having to leave the house. I had made plans to go to the movies with a group of friends today. Although I wasn’t feeling up to it at first, for good reason. It was important to get out of the house a little. We all had coffee beforehand. It was good to see everyone. Conversation eased my mind a bit. We went to watch Ghost Rider, it was everything I thought it should be. I know some will hate this movie, but I loved that it relished in total cheezeball-land. Reminds me of oddball horror movies like Evil Dead or Army Of Darkness, movies along that line, just less blood and guts. Hammed-Up-Horror with some nice action bits. I’m a sucker for that sort of thing if done well. Certainly wasn’t anything original, but didn’t need to for it to be a fun ride. I came out of it feeling entertained, most of the group seemed to feel the same way. The day started out in a darker place, but not as much now.
Attempting To Defeat Blah
February 21st 2012
Monday February 20th 2012, 8:24 pm
Bliplip Bliplip, Hello, I am ready. I like to jet around low to the floor, but do so very meticulously, scrutinizing every little nook and cranny. I am very calculating in making my decisions, I have to get it just right, especially on my first day. I must be diligent in my duties. I cannot miss any detail. I need to leave a good impression for my new friends, because I know they will treat me well, they will take good care of me, it is a feeling I have. Well, I guess feeling is not the right word where I am concerned, ascertain is more like it. I am a quick study of my new domain, memorizing all of the landmarks. It is important for me to store all the information I can. I must give a good first impression, this will be my home for as long as I am functioning optimally. Hello, I am ready for work today, Bliplip Bliplip. I am a lean mean clean clean clean machine, yes I am. Bliplip.
Hello, I Am Neato, The Vacuum Robot
February 20th 2012
Sunday February 19th 2012, 8:36 pm
She is slothy. I know thats not a real word, but it sounds right. She’s pukey too, again another unreal word that fits. She will puke in the water. I know, disgusting, right? But she does a lot worse. She actually will eat her own vomit. Try to clean it up fast, but sometimes she’s too quick. She pees on herself too, always making a damn mess of things, the messiest I’ve seen. She’s not very bright either. Instead of running away from danger, she’ll head straight for it, getting herself in trouble all the time. She’s really fat as well, chubby chubby, but in a cute way. And she loves to lounge, lounges most of the time actually, can’t get her to do much of anything. She’s completely willful about it. Getting her to play just doesn’t work, she’ll just stare and sit. Clearly she doesn’t have the best traits. But one look at her adorable fat round face staring back at you with blissed-out steel blue eyes full of love, making a squeak with her tiny voice, you can’t help but rub her big ole fluffy white and gray belly, telling her what a cutie pie she is. She’ll roll around into the perfect position, stretch her legs out as far she can and purr. Lounge and purr. She’s a slothy furry princess, and she knows it.
Phoebe, The Laziest Cat In The World
February 19th 2012
Saturday February 18th 2012, 5:26 pm
Needing to crawl out from thick shadowy emotions, I slowly crack an opening and step into vibrancy. Gusts of perfectly tempered air flood my lungs, fresh and crisp. Listening to the rustling of branches, like little choruses of obscured beckoning voices. Winter is easing away. I’m enveloped in a golden glow, imagining the tiny sparkling particles of light drifting downward to touch my skin. I can feel the small hairs on my arms rise and flutter, causing a tingling sensation. I have to squint my eyes from the intensity of vividness, as I study glimmering bright reflections from the water fountain. Bhangra rubs up against my lower leg. I crouch down to stroke the top of his head and he pushes against my hand in simple pleasure. His black fur has heated up rapidly after being out here for only a few minutes. The warm rays raining down on us I find briefly soothing, and I sigh.
The Sun
February 18th 2012
Friday February 17th 2012, 9:46 pm
Disjointed and incomplete, like I’m a rigid wooden block puzzle with the missing pieces laying around on the floor. And I don’t know how to put them in the right places. My mind is hazy, still not sleeping well from the stresses this past week. After missing so much time I had to get back to work today, although I really didn’t feel like it. Random things needed to be done, talking over the next Batwoman collected edition with editorial, worked out cover concept sketches, adding touches to the 4th draft to issue 11’s script, while thinking about the next page I have to draw for issue 12, answer email, write this blog. All of these should be exciting productive things to me, but none of it seems to be doing the trick. Don’t know what else I should be expecting in this aftermath. I tried to feel more upbeat with the creative distractions of work, I really did, but obviously to no avail. I hate feeling morose. I don’t want to wallow. Am I wallowing now? The process of life after sad events can be very confusing. There is no way to feel good about having to continue with the regular everyday tasks, even though I can rationalize that I have to do so. It makes me feel like I’m disrespecting the terrible incident that took place, the meaning of it, though deep down I know that isn’t true at all. Confusion is where I’m at today, knowing full well that things have to move forward, that really is the only option. Its just hard to take those steps.
Life Is Going On
February 17th 2012
Thursday February 16th 2012, 10:31 pm
There is an emptiness here now, as we try to do the normal things, the things that need doing, laundry, getting groceries, going to the bank, paying bills. But nothing feels normal, and probably won’t for some time. We’re exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. There is a heaviness in me, especially when I look into Wendy’s eyes. The heartache pours from them, and there really is nothing I can do to stop the pain she feels. I can only share it. I wish I could sweep the broken pieces of our feelings into a dustpan and shake them out into a trash bin. But that just isn’t realistic. So we try to do the normal things, that don’t feel normal. Our friend Ubence sums it up nicely when saying, “Nothing ever quite fills in the space that is left behind”. He is so right about that. We’ve experienced this before with another furry friend years ago, but it still doesn’t prepare for it to happen again. We accept these little adorable creatures into our lives, knowing full well that we will out live them, its just how it is. But even with that rational knowledge it doesn’t protect against the eventuality, when death takes them from us. Love is more powerful than rationality. I’m sorry that I keep having to write about unpleasant things this past week, but this is what we are living right now. I will try to be better tomorrow.
The Missing Space
February 16th 2012
Wednesday February 15th 2012, 12:50 pm
There really isn’t anything to write about today. We had to let Tabitha go this morning. She’s with all of the other animal spirits now. Below is a couple photos from happier times.
On This Day
February 15th 2012
Tuesday February 14th 2012, 8:31 pm
Tabitha’s illness is fatal. There is just no easy way to say it, but I still hate the bluntness of the way that sounds. She has what is called FIP, also known as FIPV, and there really is no coming back from it. Wendy and I are crushed, heartbroken. It sounds trite to say those words, to write them, because there is just no proper description of what we’re feeling. And it feels strange to me that I’ve made this public, about something so toughly personal. It feels slightly selfish of me, but since I’ve started these blogs I’m committed to doing this everyday, an agreement with myself that must be held. Even if what we’re currently experiencing is tragic, horrible, and all I can muster up to think about. This is all there is today. We are making her comfortable as best we can, until we can’t help anymore. But this is not how I wish for this post to be, about what is going away, but rather about some of the fun ways she lives with us. What I remember at this moment of writing…
We named her Tabitha for the day we got her, which was on Halloween, 15 years ago. We used to live out in the country and had gone for a walk that afternoon. When we arrived back at the house, there she was, this little cute kitten, curled up all by herself on our porch as if she had been waiting for us. She literally jumped in my arms, skinny but happy and cuddly, and smelling like scented dryer sheets. We could never figure out how she got to our porch, there were no other people around us. Since it was Halloween, we named her Tabitha, after the little daughter in the TV show, Bewitched. Tabby has a speckled coat of a variety of colors, like hundreds of tiny artistic paint daubs of blacks, browns, grays, tans, oranges, all set against a white undercoat, very cute and pretty. She stayed skinny, but never took the bullying from the boys (the other cats in the house), she always lets them know how tough she is.
One thing she likes to do is, for no apparent reason, suddenly burst into a thing of boundless energy, like a little rocket on four scrawny legs zooming around the house as fast she could possibly go, her tail whipping around in a frenzy. Sometimes she seems like she’s part monkey, a monkey cat. Hilarious fits of endless combustible vivacity. She also likes to sleep a lot, Sometimes under the covers, other times above my head on an extra pillow, but always tries to lick the top of my head. As matter fact, she tries to do that obsessively, and not just lick hair. She tries to lick us constantly, like you’d expect from a dog, we jokingly call her The Tongue.
She also has this insanely perfect internal clock. Sometimes hours ahead of when we feed them dinner, she’ll start harassing, especially using that darn tongue. Warning us that dinner time was coming, like we would forget or something. Everyday, making sure we got the food ready right on time. She’ll get so excited when I go to the kitchen to prepare their dinner that she’ll howl as loud as she can, over and over until I get that meal in front of her. I can never do it fast enough for certain. But her favorite food though, is actually yogurt, of any kind. She’s obsessed with it. So much that you pull the lid off a yogurt cup as quietly as possible, she’ll still hear it from the other side of the house and start harassing you with that tongue again.
Another quirky thing she does, is that if we start to vacuum the house, she heads for the hills, running from room to room, taking off from the big bad vacuum monster. Always acting like this is the day we’re finally going to suck her into it, even though we obviously never had before, it could be the time it happens for real, run! She’s a nervous ninny.
She’s also definitely a lap cat, sticks to you like velcro. Especially to Wendy. As soon as you sit she’s on you no matter what, and whines if you don’t let her. And Wendy is her mom, the place she prefers the most.
I’m sure my words don’t do her story justice. We love her, and we don’t know what this house will be like when she’s gone, we can’t think about it, hurts too much. I can’t really put into words just what we’re feeling. Heartache that comes from love, because we only have today now.
So on this special day, do something meaningful for the loves in your lives, be they furry or human, hug them, kiss them, show them what you can.
Valentine’s Day
February 14th 2012
Monday February 13th 2012, 8:15 pm
Still waiting, still worrying. The general prognosis just isn’t good, but knowing for sure isn’t possible until the test results come in. We feel so heavy, while looking for positive signs that may bring lightness. Its the not knowing that makes it harder. It adds another layer to our feelings over this situation. We’ll be having another long night. All we have right now is to show her our love.
More Of Yesterday
February 13th 2012
Sunday February 12th 2012, 8:18 pm
We sit and wait and worry. The room is loud, in that sound echos easily. The tiled floors and brick walls are neutral palettes, attempting to cause one to feel at ease, but it doesn’t really work. A flat screen TV is playing Disney’s Tarzan, we have to watch it twice while we wait and worry. Our poor little Tabitha, our speckled furry little girl, is sick. This is not the first post I wished to have about her, but this is all their is today, right now. We’re tired and worried, waiting, sitting on a large brown leather sofa. Tabitha is so weak, we feel hopeless, and scared. Our cats are our children, our family, I’m not sure if anyone can really understand that. I do know other people with pets can get it I think, but it can be hard to explain sometimes. The onset of whatever this is was so sudden, one day she is running around, happy and healthy, the next she is like this. The doctor is running tests, blood work-ups, her T-cell counts are double their normalcy, but yet she has no fever. Other tests to send off to the lab, meaning more waiting and worrying, we will not have answers quickly, we will not have them today. The x-rays reveal very little, only that her tummy has filled with fluid, swelled and distended, obstructing the x-ray imaging, impossible to tell what is causing the fluid build up. She has trouble walking. Wendy is trying not to tear up, we’re so very worried. Its a very quiet drive home, we fear we’re going to lose her. Tabby has almost no energy, so we hover and dote, making sure we get her to eat and drink something.
I have nothing left to say but…
Horrible
February 12th 2012
Saturday February 11th 2012, 7:57 pm
Signaling an arrival at my doorstep by a “knok” and “ding-dong”. The cats, all alert with sudden attentive postures as I open the front door. I give a friendly wave as the delivery driver jumps back into his van. I pick up the item left at my porch, taking in a gulp of fresh air from the recent rain, before lifting it into the kitchen. I set it down on the dark wooden round table top, as a slight tinge of excitement swells within me. I walk over to the small white cabinet, where sits our phone, a note pad, and a little cup shaped like a fish with its maw wide open, holding pens along with a pair old black silver scissors. I open the the top drawer of the cabinet where we keep the phonebook and “To Go” delivery menus, and a folded up razor knife. I pull it out and open up the blade, it making a little click sound as it locks into place. Turning back around toward the table, I reach over and start running the blade’s sharp edge along tightly taped seams of the large brown box. Popping open the now cut free flaps, my anticipation rises. I pull out packing paper, thinking to myself that there is always too much of the stuff used for packing. Oh well, I can recycle that. After setting the packing papers to the side of the box, I look down inside to pops of stapled four color dreamlands staring back up at me. I start rummaging through the stacks of these crafted adventures, looking over the slick glossy covers, and overtly epic logo styles. Some of this stuff I’m always excited to see, familiar friends from decades of my geeky appreciation. While others seem to lack luster enough to warrant my full attention. I weigh options on what I want to look at, creating a few piles of my personal taste choices. Imaginative giddiness sets in as I examine favorite stories or characters. I think I may be addicted to this feeling, it intoxicates me on some level. And I can’t decide whether thats good or bad.
My DC Comp Box Fix
February 11th 2012