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breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

James spent the weekend transferring the website to a new host prepatory to our move, and now has all kinds of nifty new site stats, which he showed me.

The major search that leads people to www.metalandmagic.com is, predictably, "ursula vernon" but a few have also showed up under "irrational fears" and (to my great amusement) "a lot of nudity."

I can't help but think that someone trying to find a lot of nudity will be disappointed by the mildness of my site, but I hope they enjoyed it anyway.

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

James spent the weekend transferring the website to a new host prepatory to our move, and now has all kinds of nifty new site stats, which he showed me.

The major search that leads people to www.metalandmagic.com is, predictably, “ursula vernon” but a few have also showed up under “irrational fears” and (to my great amusement) “a lot of nudity.”

I can’t help but think that someone trying to find a lot of nudity will be disappointed by the mildness of my site, but I hope they enjoyed it anyway.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

Box Hunter Adventures

I think it happens to everybody when you start to move. You realize that you need boxes. You need a LOT of boxes. You need 'em now.

You don't want to pay for 'em at a box place, either, 'cos that's highway robbery, damnit.

So out you go, skulking through grocery stores, hardware stores, art supply stores, liquor stores--anything that may possibly have boxes. You become adept at approaching total strangers to ask if they have boxes. You scurry home with prizes that reek of apples or sunkist oranges or Budweiser.

The corollary to this, of course, is the sense of triumph when you find a really good box. A BIG box. The sort of box one could put an appliance in, say. Or an odd shaped box, one of the tall, sturdy, narrow ones that will fit a lamp or a sword collection or any of the awkwardly shaped dross that populates our lives, or one of the long, low ones that can fit an entire barong mask collection, or--a real score--the big, flat matboard boxes that precisely fit the large canvas-and-masonite collection that leans against my studio wall and which is terribly vulnerable to stray furniture corners and careless feet.

Trying to explain this sense of glee makes you sound completely nuts, but what the hell.

James admits that I outdid myself this time. Our apartment looks like the ancient and sacred box burial ground. I have gotten lucky and hit hardware stores right when shipments came in, resulting in some fabulous finds. I gloat. I pat the boxes when no one's looking. I know that I don't have enough to move us completely, but I've managed to get my library packed at least, and I need to use some of these before I go get more, just to clear up space, if nothing else. I am aglow with the warm fuzzy feeling of a hunt gone well. And there was much rejoicing.

breeden
ursulav

Box Hunter Adventures

I think it happens to everybody when you start to move. You realize that you need boxes. You need a LOT of boxes. You need ‘em now.

You don’t want to pay for ‘em at a box place, either, ‘cos that’s highway robbery, damnit.

So out you go, skulking through grocery stores, hardware stores, art supply stores, liquor stores–anything that may possibly have boxes. You become adept at approaching total strangers to ask if they have boxes. You scurry home with prizes that reek of apples or sunkist oranges or Budweiser.

The corollary to this, of course, is the sense of triumph when you find a really good box. A BIG box. The sort of box one could put an appliance in, say. Or an odd shaped box, one of the tall, sturdy, narrow ones that will fit a lamp or a sword collection or any of the awkwardly shaped dross that populates our lives, or one of the long, low ones that can fit an entire barong mask collection, or–a real score–the big, flat matboard boxes that precisely fit the large canvas-and-masonite collection that leans against my studio wall and which is terribly vulnerable to stray furniture corners and careless feet.

Trying to explain this sense of glee makes you sound completely nuts, but what the hell.

James admits that I outdid myself this time. Our apartment looks like the ancient and sacred box burial ground. I have gotten lucky and hit hardware stores right when shipments came in, resulting in some fabulous finds. I gloat. I pat the boxes when no one’s looking. I know that I don’t have enough to move us completely, but I’ve managed to get my library packed at least, and I need to use some of these before I go get more, just to clear up space, if nothing else. I am aglow with the warm fuzzy feeling of a hunt gone well. And there was much rejoicing.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

The nice people over at Silver Bullet Comic Books want to do a creator profile on me, which is great and I'm flattered. However, they want to know my personal motto.

I stared at the "personal motto" blank and the halves of my brain rose up, gabbling, like a flock of geese who've just spotted a St. Bernard coming in at full tilt. "Bark like a fish!" "I just work here!" "Draw, Antonio, draw, Antonio, draw and do not waste time!" "Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem!" "To be invincible is best." "Just because I painted it doesn't mean I know what it means." "Uncharismatic Megafauna Forever!"

Etc, etc...

If anyone can suggest an appropriately pithy personal motto, I'm all ears...

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

The nice people over at Silver Bullet Comic Books want to do a creator profile on me, which is great and I’m flattered. However, they want to know my personal motto.

I stared at the “personal motto” blank and the halves of my brain rose up, gabbling, like a flock of geese who’ve just spotted a St. Bernard coming in at full tilt. “Bark like a fish!” “I just work here!” “Draw, Antonio, draw, Antonio, draw and do not waste time!” “Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem!” “To be invincible is best.” “Just because I painted it doesn’t mean I know what it means.” “Uncharismatic Megafauna Forever!”

Etc, etc…

If anyone can suggest an appropriately pithy personal motto, I’m all ears…

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

My thanks to everyone who suggested mottos--there were some really good ones, but in the end, I had to go with the classic:
I despise the arrogant wombat.

In case anyone doesn't know the origin, I once had a troll with a questionable grip on either the language or consensual reality leave some truly bizarre comments on my art, one of which was the marvelous phrase "I despise the arrogant wombat." The pleasure I have derived from this phrase is all out of proportion, and it still gives me the warm fuzzies. 'Cos I mean, really, doesn't that just say it all?

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

My thanks to everyone who suggested mottos–there were some really good ones, but in the end, I had to go with the classic:
I despise the arrogant wombat.

In case anyone doesn’t know the origin, I once had a troll with a questionable grip on either the language or consensual reality leave some truly bizarre comments on my art, one of which was the marvelous phrase “I despise the arrogant wombat.” The pleasure I have derived from this phrase is all out of proportion, and it still gives me the warm fuzzies. ‘Cos I mean, really, doesn’t that just say it all?

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.