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breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

At some point in the night, in between the dreams of being attacked by the flying razor-clawed doll from the Dreamcast version of Genma Onimusha,* I appear to have gotten up, found my sketchbook, and scrawled "king--thugwhumps--"Ooodlegoiter"--Baby dragon w/stuffed knight--"Mr Higgins."

Whether this was a painting idea or a menu suggestion, I'm not entirely certain, although I will say that "Ooodlegoiter" is a great name for just about anything.




*I was scarred, okay!? The stupid thing was invincible!

breeden
ursulav

(no subject)

At some point in the night, in between the dreams of being attacked by the flying razor-clawed doll from the Dreamcast version of Genma Onimusha,* I appear to have gotten up, found my sketchbook, and scrawled “king–thugwhumps–”Ooodlegoiter”–Baby dragon w/stuffed knight–”Mr Higgins.”

Whether this was a painting idea or a menu suggestion, I’m not entirely certain, although I will say that “Ooodlegoiter” is a great name for just about anything.

*I was scarred, okay!? The stupid thing was invincible!

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


breeden
ursulav

Fair Warning

Today's Sinfest made me chuckle.

http://sinfest.net/

Now, people will say this is alarmist. They're right. I will be assured by terrible reasonable sounding people that this is silly. And they will indeed sound very reasonable. And I will give better than even odds that there will be no draft, certainly. Don't feel a need to convince me. I'm not gonna argue with you, and I'm not all that worried. I'm certainly not going to quote chapter and verse about why there might be a draft--you believe whatever you wish to believe, and 'das cool wi' me.

However.

Foremost among my flaws--and I have many, many flaws, but this is one I'll cop to--I am a gloater. I say "I told you so." I nurse a grudge with the tender and loving passion that a gardener will nurse the rarest and most fragile of orchids. I will get up in the night and prepare a heated bottle 'o bile to make sure my grudge grows big and strong. I do not forget, and while I have been known to forgive, there have to be hellaciously mitigating circumstances, or else a total and abject apology and admission of fault, or else a really shiny object. (Really, really, REALLY, shiny.)

This makes me a less than stellar person, I realize, but in my defense, I am quite aware of this flaw, which may not mitigate it, but at least allows me to work around it a little bit, which is why I am issuing this blanket warning.

If you're a Bush-supporter, and Bush wins, and there's a draft (or an all-out civil war in Iraq, for that matter) I suggest that you unfriend my blog for at least a week,* and possibly unplug the phone. Because I am gonna gloat. I am gonna gloat in ways that will make Achilles dragging the corpse of Hector, Tamer of Horses, three times 'round the walls of Troy look like the very model of restraint. I will dance. I will utter the phrase "I TOLD YOU SO," and "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, HUH?" and I may just program my oft-threatened giant flaming dancing earthworm font in which to do it. I will mock. I will gloat. I will be absolutely, positively insufferable, I will be so terrible that even I will hardly be able to stand me.

And because of that, and because I try to work around my flaws when I can, consider this a warning. Because I like a lot of you guys, even if I find your political views occasionally misguided, and I'd prefer not to annhilate any otherwise cordial relationships with my 2 point Gloating Geas flaw. Many a friendship has been destroyed by politics, and I don't want to do that, but I will no more be able to not gloat than I could fly. So just be aware--if that happens, the bridge to Ursula's rationality with be rained out, and brief detours are suggested.

Thank you, that is all.


*Actually, if we're being realistic, my attention span for outrage only lasts about three days, and it should revert back to art and entertaining encounters with urban wildlife shortly after that.

breeden
ursulav

Fair Warning

Today’s Sinfest made me chuckle.

http://sinfest.net/

Now, people will say this is alarmist. They’re right. I will be assured by terrible reasonable sounding people that this is silly. And they will indeed sound very reasonable. And I will give better than even odds that there will be no draft, certainly. Don’t feel a need to convince me. I’m not gonna argue with you, and I’m not all that worried. I’m certainly not going to quote chapter and verse about why there might be a draft–you believe whatever you wish to believe, and ‘das cool wi’ me.

However.

Foremost among my flaws–and I have many, many flaws, but this is one I’ll cop to–I am a gloater. I say “I told you so.” I nurse a grudge with the tender and loving passion that a gardener will nurse the rarest and most fragile of orchids. I will get up in the night and prepare a heated bottle ‘o bile to make sure my grudge grows big and strong. I do not forget, and while I have been known to forgive, there have to be hellaciously mitigating circumstances, or else a total and abject apology and admission of fault, or else a really shiny object. (Really, really, REALLY, shiny.)

This makes me a less than stellar person, I realize, but in my defense, I am quite aware of this flaw, which may not mitigate it, but at least allows me to work around it a little bit, which is why I am issuing this blanket warning.

If you’re a Bush-supporter, and Bush wins, and there’s a draft (or an all-out civil war in Iraq, for that matter) I suggest that you unfriend my blog for at least a week,* and possibly unplug the phone. Because I am gonna gloat. I am gonna gloat in ways that will make Achilles dragging the corpse of Hector, Tamer of Horses, three times ’round the walls of Troy look like the very model of restraint. I will dance. I will utter the phrase “I TOLD YOU SO,” and “MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, HUH?” and I may just program my oft-threatened giant flaming dancing earthworm font in which to do it. I will mock. I will gloat. I will be absolutely, positively insufferable, I will be so terrible that even I will hardly be able to stand me.

And because of that, and because I try to work around my flaws when I can, consider this a warning. Because I like a lot of you guys, even if I find your political views occasionally misguided, and I’d prefer not to annhilate any otherwise cordial relationships with my 2 point Gloating Geas flaw. Many a friendship has been destroyed by politics, and I don’t want to do that, but I will no more be able to not gloat than I could fly. So just be aware–if that happens, the bridge to Ursula’s rationality with be rained out, and brief detours are suggested.

Thank you, that is all.

*Actually, if we’re being realistic, my attention span for outrage only lasts about three days, and it should revert back to art and entertaining encounters with urban wildlife shortly after that.

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


breeden
ursulav

And another thing...

You know, just once I'd like to post a painting without someone on DeviantArt saying "Hey, that reminds me of "Labyrinth!"

I mean, once or twice, fine, high praise, it was the only fantasy flick a lot of people have seen, that's cool. But Every Single Painting? Come ON! They can't ALL look like Labyrinth! I can count on the fingers of one pancreas the number of times David Bowie in vinyl has shown up in a painting!

I'm not one of those people who insists that my work be an absurd originality devoid of any other influence--there is nothing new under the sun, and I am nothing if not the sum of my influences--but this is starting to wear on me, and a groove the thickness of a runty bucky ball is being slowly worn in the enormous basalt slab of the foundation of my confidence.*

And the worst part is that I haven't seen the movie in ten years, but because I keep hearing "It reminds me of "Labryinth!" I'm terrified to go rent it, for fear that I'll cement some kind of Hensonesque doom and never paint anything that doesn't remind people of Labryinth again.



*Don't get me wrong, I'll die before it's undermined at that rate, but still!

breeden
ursulav

And another thing…

You know, just once I’d like to post a painting without someone on DeviantArt saying “Hey, that reminds me of “Labyrinth!”

I mean, once or twice, fine, high praise, it was the only fantasy flick a lot of people have seen, that’s cool. But Every Single Painting? Come ON! They can’t ALL look like Labyrinth! I can count on the fingers of one pancreas the number of times David Bowie in vinyl has shown up in a painting!

I’m not one of those people who insists that my work be an absurd originality devoid of any other influence–there is nothing new under the sun, and I am nothing if not the sum of my influences–but this is starting to wear on me, and a groove the thickness of a runty bucky ball is being slowly worn in the enormous basalt slab of the foundation of my confidence.*

And the worst part is that I haven’t seen the movie in ten years, but because I keep hearing “It reminds me of “Labryinth!” I’m terrified to go rent it, for fear that I’ll cement some kind of Hensonesque doom and never paint anything that doesn’t remind people of Labryinth again.

*Don’t get me wrong, I’ll die before it’s undermined at that rate, but still!

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