Trompé Setsuled (setsuled) wrote,
Trompé Setsuled

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Hail, you, or something like that

hulllruuuuuunnthh . . . I'm not meant to be up this early. It's NOT NATURAL. How I hate Thursdays. And this looks to be the Thursdayingest of Thursdays.

I couldn't get to sleep, of course . . . I ought to've just stayed up all the way. It's worse somehow to settle into a deep sleep with your measly four hours only to have to be jarred up again, even if it is by the Hope Sandoval/Jesus and Mary Chain song "Somtimes Always".

I finished the Boschen and Nesuko page early, but was not allowed to savour that. No, I had to be asleep. But first I had to find a way around my printer whose lack of a fresh fifty dollar ink cartridge made it feel justified in not printing out a black and white image. I finally figured that it wasn't printing the shades of grey, so I very quickly drew up an entirely black and white image for the Acorn Review flyer I'm supposed to deliver to-day, or thereabouts. Why don't I feel so enthusiastic about the Acorn bloody Review right now? Why am I not sending my stories off to more real magazines? Do I mean "more" as in quantity or are they more real somehow? I'm sure they are more real. The Acorn Review is unreal. Hoo-ha.

So for the Acorn Review--sweet, bitter calcium drop on the brain tongue just to keep typing it--for the Acorn Review last night I hastily drew a face . . . staring with big, dark googily eyes at any hapless passers-by, telling them they have to submit to the Acorn Review, but something horrible shall probably happen to them (the passers-by) anyway.

After that I read a bunch of Scott McCloud comics. Now there's a site with great content. That's what I need; content.

Then I lay awake thinking about the nature of comics. I thought about how comics relate to films and figured the writer is closer to the director while the artist is closer to cinematographer. I thought about how I wish I could work faster and better. I thought about people like Jhonen Vasquez who wrote and drew their own big comic books, and I wondered how long it took them put out a 24-or-so page book. I felt ashamed that the best rate I seem to be doing is sixteen pages a month. I tried to think about what I could take out of my day, but there's not much left to take out. Iiiissssssh. I thought about the sound "Iiiissssssh."

The two predominant things I felt yesterday; happily creative and bitter. I thought about whether I wanted happiness or the continual pursuit for creative fulfillment. I concluded that I don't think happiness is possible, and I'd better get used to the latter, although I think part of that latter is its inability to be comfortable. Like a toothed inner-tube.

I don't feel like listening to myself. The gods clearly meant for me to be asleep right now.

  • The Unlikely Vampire in the Mirror

    It can be liberating meeting your doppelganger, at least it is for Willow in "Doppelgangland", a third season episode of Buffy the Vampire…

  • Locals on the Move

    Turtles and fish were milling about in confusion yesterday. This was in the river near the school I just started working in. This is the fourth…

  • This Film Ain't Big Enough for One Hunchback

    The familiar formula of the Disney Renaissance was pushed past its breaking point with 1996's The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Source material…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.