Have finished the first of a series of illustrations that I'm working on for a (kinda) new project. I'm re-illustrating one of my favorite book series: The Nancy Boy Detective Agency. I'm starting with "The Nancy Boy Detective Agency in the Case of the Flaming Yeti's Footprints."
The NBDA is like the Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew or Tintin, et al. Except it's Jack Nancy, an ex-boxer, ex-policeman, and private detective and his friend Boy Molloy, the richest woman under 25. They solve sweet mysteries and it's much more chaotic than Hardy Boys, etc.
Anyway, I'm hoping to do a number of their books.
Should be sweet.
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badday. bidday. bidet. crapper.
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post scriptum: absit iniuria verbis: or, less latin-y: my apologies for this: 'this' refers to the above words, and more generally the entirety of the post herein contained: intending that the reader should absolve me of the affront of filling a portion of their visual space with inanities, absurdities, and idiocies: of which I am one: end
for all that is going on in my life right now there are things going really well (comics, relationship, general stuff). On the other hand: applying for phd programs is leaving me burnt beyond belief, add to that work woes (well, actually not-having-work woes).
I wish that I could more coherently describe my state of mind. It is like riding a top, oh there's the good stuff, oh wait there's the bad stuff, oh wait here's good stuff again, oh wait. . . and etc.
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So, I've started reading Finnegan's Wake. Very slow going, but I have, just as when I read Ulysses, decided to read it without the aid of the (100s and 100s) of commentaries, guides, critical essays/books, or any other similar texts. That probably means that I am and will remain largely ignorant of the majority of the text, but at least I get to meet the work on its own terms.
just now getting over an illness. Some kind of 'cold'. It really sucks to be sick. I mean, that's mostly the definition of being sick, ya know? Feeling bad.
I desire a working electric typewriter. Possibly a workhorse of an IBM Selectric II, or some other comparable chunk of magnificent moving parts. Progress, so called, only points out how nice some things were. Tippytyping with the magnificent clacking is something that gives visceral pleasure, addicting in its own right. My fully mechanical typewriter is excellent, and (mostly) works, but it would be nice to have something that is nearer to 100% reliable and whose ribbons are more easily procured.
If anyone actually ever reads these rambles(gambols) of mine, are there newer more fertile grounds for social blogging (such as one finds on LiveJournal)? I like the idea of knowing who is reading/following these writings, and being able to easily read their works as well.
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I just completed a belated birthday gift for a friend here in Austin. It is a minicomic about a weird egg and hallucinating and weird creatures and marketing execs. I'll be posting a sample on the comic site that I'm sure no one wants to hear about any more, but I'll also be selling it!
I'll also be finished with a minicomic that collects Unlike Comix, it's going to be about 32 pages, and going to have a signed numbered Linocut print on the front and back cover. Pictures up soon. I promise!