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Yeah, sorry. Looks like I'm going to be using the Blog ( http://flatwood.blogspot.com ) for all my posts from now on. Sorry about that. |
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Hey!
Once again, I have the Internet at my lovely, yet inexpensive home!
So, I will start updating this again instead of my weblog.
Just letting you all know.
I'll also move all the old posts over here so check some previous dates to see if you missed something. |
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NOTE: This will probably be my last journal entry for a while. In an effort to save money, I'm getting rid of my internet at home. I still will have internet where I work, but the school computers have a monster firewall that blocks livejournal. Sooo...until May or so, I won't be posting. But I'll be Ba-A-ack...
Anyway, the big announcement.
On Friday, I asked my beautiful girlfriend to be my wife.
The scary part (for her) is that she said, "yes".
So, yeah, getting married here. Next summer. Big fun.
And how else would a computer nerd propose than through a cheesy powerpoint. So, pick your poison:
FLASH VERSION (By far, the best)
WINDOWS MEDIA PLAYER (By far, the worst)
CAUTION: Contains sappy country music.
Until May, check out news on the Main Site. Check ya later.Current Mood:  Moony Current Music: "The Beat of a Heart" by the Warren Brothers |
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You know, I always thought it was such a drag to grow up in a place like the Ozarks. First off, nothing exciting ever happens here. You don't see movie stars. You don't see politicians. You buy your clothes at WAL-MART. I mean, as a kid, it's sometimes depressing.
But over the years, I've learn to appreciate my past and my heritage a little bit more.
As I'm sure most of you are sick of hearing, I also have a strong spiritual heritage (sounds like I'm a medicine man or something). Almost fifty years ago, my grandfather moved his family the length of the state to start a little backwoods church. Right before the move, my grandmother had become very sick, and the doctors could give no solution to the problem. My grandfather went to God and asked him to heal his wife. If God would, he would do whatever He wished. Needless to say, Grandma got better, and Grandpa decided that God wanted him in a little town called Dora, MO. Thirty years later, the church he started was the church I grew up in.
My grandma would sing a song every Sunday, and I hate to say it, but she wasn't much of a singer. Well, I mean, by most people's standards, anyway. She had a beautiful voice, it just got torn up on its way out. If the amount of feeling a performer puts into something determines its beauty, though, she sang beautifully: Old hymns of sadness, death, and redemption.
If you have ever been in a county church, I'm sure you know the type of hymns and songs I'm talking about. On the one hand, they are absolutely depressing. They speak of death, the depravity of humanity, the pain of living on such a Earth. But on the other hand, they have unflinching hope in a comforter that will one day lead them home. Simultaneously, they are wailings (sometimes quite literally) of despair, yet praises of jubilation. It's a great dichotomy.
And it's interesting to think that most of these songs have their roots in some of the worst periods of American history: the time of Slavery, The Civil War, the Great Depression. People were miserable, living in some of the worst conditions imaginable, yet they could still sing songs of praise. Hardship, Pain, and Longing are accepted as part of life, so they look forward to a brighter future. Sometimes, I think we're spoiled in the world we live in now. We should be the ones praising. We should be the most thankful. We fall short of that a lot.
Anyway, I've said all this to say that I love to listen to this music when I draw Flatwood. I think it has the same sentiment: Hopelessness pitted against the Undeniable Light of Hope.
Plus, Flatwood (while I try to keep it geographically neutral) is inspired by the Ozarkian culture I grew up in: the twisted barren trees of the Ozark winter, the sack-ed face of Mr. Milk (an Ozarkian Baldknobber), the Native American heritage, old withered women living reclusively; all this in addition to what is yet to come.
Not to mention, these hymns reflect the religious themes I try to weave into the story more than any other type of Christian music. Some of the lines of dialogue in the comic are even lifted from the lyrics of these old songs word for word. They contain some of the most beautiful phrases I have ever encountering for a human's belief in a greater being.
And if you can imagine them played from a far-away, warbly record player, they would make some excellent creep-you-out music.
That's my plug. Now you know a bit of my inspiration. If you would like to listen to some of these songs, I've uploaded a few in Windows Media Player format (Sorry, Mackers).
Will the Circle Be Unbroken
This one's a classic. Too bad it's not the Johnny Cash version. I love how sad it is, yet not.
Homecoming in Heaven
In this one, you get the despair of Earth juxtaposed with the happiness of Heaven.
Just a Closer Walk with Thee
This one describes how one must totally rely on other-wordly forces to get them by.
Kneel at the Feet of Jesus
This one is awesome. It's upbeat and super-cheesy. It's great.
--Hope you like 'em--
Later.Current Mood:  Chipper Chicken Current Music: "Kneel at the Feet of Jesus" -Hymn- |
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Well, Well, Well...we meet again...
Not much comic-related has been going on of late. I mean, the site's been updating, more people than ever before have been reading, just nothing major has happened.
What has come down the pike is some pretty cool fan art from a long-time reader, Psychoskull:
Pretty cool, huh? The title is "The Day the Music Died".
That's all for now.Current Mood: Chipper Chicken Current Music: "Bye Bye Miss American Pie" by Don McLean |
| » Sick, Sick, Sick |
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For some reason, I felt compelled to include this cartoon. It's one of my favorites from the old days of drawing for the college paper. I had to size it down so it wouldn't wonk this whole layout. For the bigger, easier-to-read version, click here.
So, yeah, anyway, that has nothing to do with anything...
I've have been sick! There I go, using exclamation points again.
But, yeah, I get sick really easily. If someone thinks about having a sore throat, I get it. Never fails. What doesn't usually happen is for me to be sick longer than about 24 hours.
Sure, I get down, but I get up again. (That brings back bad Chumbawumba memories)
This time though, I got sick, and I didn't get up again.
Here's how it played out:
I started feeling bad on Saturday Night (headache, achey, God-I-Wanna-Sleep sensation), but that wasn't surprising. That usually happens when I visit my family.
Then Sunday I was sick. Every time I stood up, I felt like I was on a bad Carnie-job at the county fair. I thought if I forced myself to go to church, God would reward me with feeling better. Apparently, God doesn't operate on the bartering system.
Then Monday I was sure I would be better. My 24 hours was up. But, no. My 103 degree temperature had finally gone down. But I still felt like crap. So, I missed a whole day of work, which is great when you're living on Ramen noodles as it is.
So, yeah, Tuesday, I still felt like crap. I had to force myself to go to work. I have to wear "dressy" clothes, and I was sweating like a whore in church. Once I got to work, I started to feel a bit better. The whole My-life-can't-get-any-worse feeling is commonplace in my workplace, so I started forgetting I was sick.
And that's the story. Exciting, huh? I still don't feel real great today, but it's just WEIRD that I should be so sick. I dunno.
Now I can return to my regularly-scheduled artwork...umm...scheduled.
Off with the griping, on with the drawing.
Good thing I didn't live during the Dark Ages. The Plague would have made me really whiney.
All hail Mort, Dark Lord of the Sith.
Excelsior!
Okay, I'm really done.
Jul. 27th, 2005 @ 11:27 am
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| » Comic Con: And We're Back |
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I was going to do a comic tonight, but I figured first things first. I spent about twelve bucks developing these pictures. I might as well put them to good use.
This was our destination: the San Diego Convention Center, Home of the Twirtieenth-Something Annual Comic Convention. Not to give away any major secrets, but we made it.
These were the players:
Zachary Parker (also known as "ME") pictured here standing by the one and only lego rendition of Chewbacca. Yes, I have reached a new low.
My Lifelong* Friend, Matchbookhymnal, and her Husband**, Matchbookhymnal's husband
* Okay, not lifelong. But close.
** He's my friend now, too. Anyone who sees how I act on a plane and doesn't kill me is a true trooper (not storm, either).
The Infamous and somewhat Dubious Reed Bond of Welcome to Normal and Hppire of Pires Away.
Together we form a band whose powers when combined summon forth
Stan Lee?
But I get ahead of myself.
Since Reed and Hppire live in undisclosed states different than my own undisclosed state, it was only Match, Her Husband, and I on the plane to San Diego where we would meet up with the others. I don't know if you caught this before, but I get somewhat nervous on a plane. Actually, that's a gross injustice to myself. I get down right manic on a plane.
It's not that I'm afraid of flying either...more that I'm afraid of dying.
Since Matchbook's husband looks slightly Arabic, we toyed with the idea of calling him "Hassan" on the plane just to see if we could freak some people out. But we decided that the reprocussions of such an action, including the inevitable cavity search, wouldn't be worth the laughs. So, instead we all laughed at my pathetic whimpering.
Luckily for everyone involved, the plane did not fall from the sky, and we arrived in sunny downtown San Diego. After taking a raping on a shuttle fare to our hotel (which was seven miles from the Convention Center, but cheap), we prepared for the event of meeting face to face the people that we'd seen typing spastic instant messages across the void of cyberspace for almost a year now. Needless to say, it was horrifying.
Much later than we expected and after Hppire had been stranded at the airport for about eight hours by her internet buddy, we met the elusive pair. Surprisingly, they were (somewhat)lucid, and they in a couple of hours they were to find out the same about us. We all bedded down in anticipation of the most thrilling event of our lives*.
*Lord, I hope not.
The next four days were a blur (as some of these photographs reiterate). In order to read the convention center, every morning started with this:
That is, walking about 1/2 a mile to the Trolley stop.
Much to my surprise, the "Trolley" is more like a train, and not the variety that Cloris Leachman can be seen swinging drunkily from in only crappy sitcoms.
And not just any train: a clean, fast, and bum-free train that was dirt cheap.
So, our invigorating* walk was followed by about an hour of Trolley riding. Most of us were relieved to find that we were not transported to a magical make-believe land filled with crappy puppets and mangy cats, but rather downtown San Diego.
*Also known as exasperating, leading to much persperating
A Big Boat.
We had finally made it: The Mecca of Mouthbreathers, the Domain of Dorks, the Nirvana of Nerds.
After standing in a biggus line to get our passes, we were allowed to pass inside.
Countless Ads and Plugs for various companies, movies, and comics hung from the beams overhead.
In addition to the tons of pop culture references from the displays, countless amounts of people were dressed up as their favorite comic/movie character. (I'm putting captions on these, but true dorks should know who they are.)
Bender, the lovable beer-guzzling robot
Hyrule's highly-revered champion, Link
The Ever-Bun-ed Princess Leia
Ummm...the blue...errr...girl from Star Wars (Remember the good old days when "adding color to the cast" meant including Billy Dee?)
Chewbacca, Han Solo, and their surly landlord, Lolita
I don't know what these girls were supposed to be, but I took a picture of them for obvious reasons.
"Your Mom Goes to Comic-Con"
These weren't the Droids we were looking for.
The Wheezy Grieve (This Costume was Awesome.)
Leonard, Hunter of the Precious
In addition to the many freaks... I mean fans, there were many exciting special guests. Charlize Theron, Jack Black, and Natalie Portman were in attedance, but I was too busy seeing the really important guests like:
"Smells Like Teen Spirit, It Does"
But no, seriously, I did get to meet/see some pretty cool people.
I can't help loving Stan Lee. He's hilarious. And I think he's so humble and genuine. I mean, the guy came up with Spider-Man, the X-Men, Hulk, and the Fantastic Four. He should be wearing a cloak and carrying a scepter. Instead he settles for wearing a crown of thinning hair and employing a raspy smoker voice to casually answer questions from a sea of his biggest fans. God, he's cool.
Yeah, and I met Mike Mignola (Hellboy), too. I didn't really have anything to say to him. He didn't look like he was too happy about having to man his own booth, so I just asked to shake his hand and have my picture taken with him. Still cool, though.
And I stumbled upon Kenny Baker signing autographs. Apparently, they let him out of R2D2 long enough to make some dough off his Star Wars Stardom (?). If you're inside a rolling trashcan for the entire trilogy, are you really a star? Do I really want to pay $20 for you to sign a glossy of you? Nah. I think I'll just take your picture.
No, this isn't another SuperScooter commercial.
The coolest person I got to meet was undeniably Ray Bradbury. After watching a panel featuring Mr. Bradbury and Ray Harryhausen, I went out to use the bathroom only to find the author of Fahrenheit 451 being rolled toward me ( He's nine-hundred years old.) And For those of you who don't know, I'm an English teacher, so Ray Bradbury is akin to Elvis, while I'm like a hormonal teenage girl with a neck scarf.
Anyway, Ray Harryhausen's wheelchair stalled causing Mr. Bradbury to be stopped right next to me. I leaned down, and introduced myself, told him I was a high school English teacher, and thanked him for writing such great stories that my students love so much (Actually, that was kind of a lie. High Schoolers don't like reading anything.) He was delighted to hear it though, shook my hand, and said simply "Oh,God Bless You" before he was rolled away. I think I could have cried right then. It was so cool. I love that old man now.
On a side note, I got to use the restroom with Ray Harryhausen.
There were other people that I got to see that didn't lend themselves to photography as well as the others. I saw a dapper Clive Barker (author of Imajica), the ever-off-color Kevin Smith (Clerks), and Matt Groening (creator of the Simpsons). But none of them were quite as exciting as the ones I listed.
I also got to meet the guy who came up with Earthworm Jim. That was kinda cool. I bought his book and stammered something stupid like "I Used to Try to Draw Like You".
Plus, Sergio What's-His-Name, one of my old favorites from MAD Magazine was also there.
A Random Super Couple We Met on the Trolley
In addition, there were TONS of other less-famous (but none-the-less interesting) people got to meet.
I met the gentleman who runs Brain Wrap Comics, Scott Kurtz of PVP, and a real swell guy, Bob who writes a little strip you might have read of called Elsie Hooper.
But nevertheless, in the midst of all this glitz and glamour we did not forget our purpose: Pimp the Crap out of Flatwood. The whole time we were wading through the teeming crowds of fellow dorks, I was bearing a shameless sign on my back begging folks to ask me for a free sample of my comic. We did give away quite a few, and I was very satisfied with the amount of publicity we were able to drum up between the flyers and the Flatwood T-shirts. Some people even said that they had heard of us. Weird. But, it was great.
Next year, perhaps we can get a booth.
But it probably won't be necessary.I've already made arrangements to see that Flatwood is the number one online comic by this time in 2006.
Of course, I did have to sell my soul. Sacrifices must be made, though.
By the end of the convention, I think we were all pretty tired. Those long days, long trolley rides, and endless treks back and forth to the hotel took their toll. But we all agreed that we did have fun, though we may never eat at Wendy's again.
Our one great adventure came on our last night in San Diego. We were riding our trolley home and got off to make a transfer to a different trolley line, only to find that it was so late, the line we needed was no longer running.
Being stranded a mile from your hotel in a strange city at midnight is a slightly unnerving experience. Our first stupid idea was to walk along the trolley tracks to our stop. Luckily, some of the other people who were stranded with us told us about certain stabbing hobos that liked to ambush people walking along the tracks at night. We broke down and called a cab. Good story, huh?
Finally, the time came for us to part ways. The Trip was over. Comic Con had ceased. We had walked our last mile. Reed and Hppire said goodbye. We looked back on the setting sun of San Diego for the last time...or until next year? *shrug*
or until next year? Who Knows.
It was a great trip and one we all agreed was worth the money. We got to meet some people that we had known face to face, swap ideas with our fellow webcomickers, and listen to wisdom from the great cartoonists of our time. It was sad to leave such a great place and such a good time. But I've got plenty of Livin', Laughin', and Flatwoodin' waiting for me back here at home...among other things...
The Object of my Twitterpation (as dubbed by Hppire)
Jul. 19th, 2005 @ 12:34 am
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| » Words from the Wise |
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This was taken from Doug Tennapel's website. He is the creative genius behind Earthworm Jim that I got to meet at the Comicon. I stumbled upon his site and read this journal entry.
I think it's one of the most powerful bits I've read in a while, so I wanted to post it here:
"I have only just now degaussed myself from the media overload I experienced this weekend. Surrounded by thousands of people and meeting hundreds of fans is fun but exhausting.
I went down to San Diego last Wednesday, set up my booth and broke it down Sunday night. I'm not a graceful traveler so I have a lot of anxiety while away from home. My senses are heightened, and my more philosophical thoughts kick into high gear.
The main thing that struck me was the sadness of the individuals I met. I shake the hand of a 36 year old man-child who worships my cartoons, he worships my cartoons. The hoards will hear a rumor that Adam West is on the other side of the hall and they will RUN to swarm him. This is the age of mass media.
I couldn't help but notice the thousands of incredible images that float to the surface at these events. We have a larger number of great artists producing a greater number of well-crafted images for a more prosperous consumer that owns more representations of these images in his day to day life...yet it is 'a chasing after the wind' (see Ecclesiastes). Though more impressive images are present, there is less soul than ever. A special effect that would blow me away as a ten year old, makes today's seven year old yawn. Special effects aren't so special any more.
In an almost prophetic sense, Neil Postman warned us of this. We have the Brave New World's presence of ubiquitous stimulating images, and a disconnect from the real, other people, families, love, humanity. As I thought these things, I called home from my hotel room to talk to my 3.5 year old before she went to bed.
FATHER: I sure miss you.
DAUGHTER: I sure miss you, Daddy.
FATHER: I'm smiling right now because I'm talking to you.
DAUGHTER: I know. I'm smiling too. Can you come home tonight?
(I started crying but pretended to be happy when I continued to talk to her. Faking strength is something we dads do whenever possible. There's nothing sadder than a father bleeding all over his child).
FATHER: No, Sweet Pea, I won't be home for another couple of days.
DAUGHTER: I'm smiling right now because I'm talking to you.
I snapped my cellphone shut and could hear screaming coming from the suite next to mine...effing rap-stars came back to their hotel room with hookers again. She's screaming, "That shit hurts! That shit hurts!" I keep thinking, "She is some father's daughter. She came home from Sunday School one day in a pretty pink dress holding her father's hand and now she's being doggie-styled by some guy who doesn't even know her."
They abruptly stopped and she screamed, "That shit broke?! Don't tell me that shit broke!" I could hear her thump against my wall, stumble into the bathroom and slam the toilet seat down. This is sexual revolution my friends, another abortion or fatherless child to repeat the cycle all over...and I'm a prude for judging this as 'evil'.
I'm so depressed I have to leave my room. I try to leave quietly so they don't hear that I could easily hear their racket. Walking down to the elevator I push the button and it takes forever because I'm on the 37th floor. I hear them leave their room and head my way. I act normal when I see them turn the corner and wait for the same elevator. He's got his hat on sideways, covered in sweat, she's Asian and wearing something skimpy, pink, and low-rent...looks just like Brittany Spears on MTV. I couldn't stop thinking about her childhood. Did someone hurt you in your childhood? Didn't your father hold you and tell you that you are beautiful and made in the image of God? Are you going to be alright tonight when you return to the street to turn another trick? God, go with this girl. Should I say something? I can't say anything. I am a coward.
As the elevator dropped, so did my stomach, but my soul was even lower. I felt surrounded by despair. I grabbed a slug of Jack from the bar before taking to the streets of San Diego with one of my cheap Backwoods cigars (I still haven't inhaled since Christmas of last year). On the street, a couple recognizes me from the Comicon, "Aren't you the guy who made Catscratch?" They are excited, and I'm in a dark place. I pretend to be happy and enthusiastic, "Yeah, thanks so much for liking my work!" The moment we part, my face drops again and I shuffle along.
I meet some cartoonist who came to my Catscratch panel and he gives me a business card, "Hey, Catscratching is f#cking genius! Can we get together at a time when I can show you my work? It is just a f#cking honor to shake your hand!" I warmly return the hand-shake, turn the corner and throw his card in the trash.
It's a bad time to want to be alone. The sweet song of Emmylou Harris in my Ipod provides the soundtrack of my life:
I found some love and I found some money
found that blood would drip from the honey
found I had a thirst that I could not quell
lookin'for the water from a deeper well
By the time I get back to the hotel, it's getting late. I meet a man with long gray hair in a pony tail. "How's it going?" he asks. I answer, "I'm beat, but I'm good. What do you do here at the Comicon?"
He knows a friend of mine, a Christian in comics...this is the secret handshake we Christians share in public. If some guy ever quotes James Dobson, you know. If he talks about reading C.S. Lewis, you know. If he wears a cheesy Icthus on a necklace, you know. This guy was a brother, and he instantly started ministering to me. He encouraged me, made me smile, patted me firmly on the back and said, "God bless you my brother."
This stranger showed a random act of dignity that reminded me of my place in the family of God. As I returned to my hotel room, I looked out the window from the 37th floor. The majesty of God's creation before me, man's brilliantly crafted buildings, the cars, the ocean, specks of bloated geeks dressed like Stormtroopers walking the streets below. I lifted my head, and noticed I was smiling as I entered my hotel room."
Doug TenNapel
Jul. 18th, 2005 @ 09:08 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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Well, I'm leaving on a Jet Plane.
Tomorrow Morning, I will be flying high over the Midwest on my way to the San Diego International Comic Con to peddle my wares so to speak. Also in attendance will be my life-long friend, Matchbookhymnal and her husband, Matchbookhymnal's husband. One of the two (or both) will be desparately trying to get their hand from my vice-like grip as we both take off and land. Needless to say, I hate flying.
Meeting us there will be none other than Mr. Reed Bond and Ms. Hppire, both of world-wide acclaim. Notable guests at the convention (that I may possibly tackle and force to sign my breast) include: Stan Lee, Tim Burton, Charlize Theron, Jack Black, Ray Bradbury, Robert Jordan (not so much), Bruce Campbell (really not so much)...and a lot of others. Plus, there will be comic book companies scouting out new talent. Now, all I need to do is come up with some talent.
The picture at the top of the page is one of the many ways that I will be whoring Flatwood out while I'm there. I made about 200 flyers to hand out to random people that look just like that. I also made Flatwood T-shirts for all of those in my party, as to dehumanize them to the point that their only will is to "Pimp Flatwood!", "Pimp Flatwood!", "BB!". They feature the middle part of the Flyer with Alex, Beatrice, and Bolo with the Animal Spirits behind them. I'm also going to be wearing a sign that says something like, "Ask me to see a copy of my comic" or something stupid. I'm just asking to be forced into talking to the biggest sociopath in the place with an ad like that...but, oh well...
My final goals:
Stir up some interest in Flatwood
Possibly talk to some publishers about Flatwood
Have Fun
So, Yes, I must go away for a while, and I failed to complete a new Flatwood. I apologize. I've taken my sketchpad, and hopefully, I will have some time to sketch, but it's doubtful. I'll be too busy following Stan Lee's limo with my headlights off.
I did make a new Elite Eight though.
If you're the praying kind, pray for a safe trip.
If you're a hoping kind, just hope for it.
And I'll talk to you all when I get back.
P.S. Make sure you check out the AWESOME FAN FLASH ART Reed did for me: Click HERE
Jul. 12th, 2005 @ 09:56 am
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| » A Slacking Breakthrough |
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For those of you already know, I am a School teacher. For all of you who don't know, you do now. That means I have the summer off.
Anyway, I think I mentioned in my last post that I've gone back to my old college job for the summer. It's an office job, and like most people who work in an office, I spend most of my day looking busy and playing on the internet.
Well, the other day I had a great idea. I realized that I could upload Photoshop to my work computer and maybe get some work done while I'm supposed to be "getting some work done". It only takes a few minutes to sketch out the basic outlines that I turn into the Elite Eight Strips and/or fan art/other art, etc. The majority of the time I spend on these things comes from the hour or so I spend Photoshopping them. So, if I doodle something, scan it in, and email it to my work, I can Photshop it at my desk and still look like I'm working. It's exciting.
I don't want to give you the wrong impression. I do work. But most of it consists of talking on the phone, consoling irate shift supervisors, staring at someone trying to look concerned when they tell of their brush with a forklift, etc. So, it's really easy to do something else while I work. So, I will Photoshop.
Unfortunately, I can't do Flatwood at work. Mainly because the majority of the time spent on Flatwood is in the endless hand-shading I do on it. On the "Elite Eight", I don't have to go into such detail, and it's in full, vibrant, completely-computerized color.
So, in other words, there should be an unprecendented flow of new art not particularly related to Flatwood. I'll be doing Flatwoods, too, at the usual rate (probably). I just have to do them mainly at home.
Some recent additions to this new output of art are the following:
A picture of my friends for their wedding. They really liked it. They thought it looked like they were caught in the act of making out.
And a picture of one of the best things to ever happen to me (I'm not talking about the sunset but the blonde in the swimsuit). *stares at the picture dreamily for several minutes* What was I saying?
And a new Elite Eight (it's been a while).
So, other than that, no news (good news, huh?).
Jun. 28th, 2005 @ 06:23 pm
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| » The Life and Times of Zachary Parker |
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Though I doubt you care, I thought I'd submit another random sampling of my life as it exists now. My world has changed quite a bit. Although they were my friends, I no longer live with my rowdy beer-guzzling roommates of six months, but now I have my own apartment where I can *gasp* actually hear myself think. It's great. You'd think I'd have more time to get things done, and while I do have more time, there are complications.
Aren't we disgusting? Yes, everything is going well...even better than well, really well.
She now occupies 90% of my waking thought, and even though she's two hours away from me during the week, most of my time. But it's great. Be happy for me. I command it.
High School has let out, and finacial circumstances being what they are, I am forced to get a summer job. Luckily, I was able to go back to my old place of college employment, PENMAC, which pays a fat $10.50 an hour to match toothless skanks up with suitably terrible jobs canning pickles and/or plucking chickens. It's great.
(You should check out the PENMAC website. It's pretty cheesy. None of the people pictured have ever worked for the company. They just got some generic multi-cultural office place clip art and slapped it on the website.)
I have so much stuff packed into my summer, I don't think there's any room for an added activity.
Every weekend is slated to either A) Visit the Girlfriend, a Two Hour Drive or B) Entertain the Girlfriend while she visits. Every weekday consists of work 11am-8pm, intermittentlyfollowed by a late-night gym trip, unpacking spree (still not totally moved in yet), a gushy phone call (like I said, disgusting), sporadic hanging out with the friends, picture hanging, poster framing, dinner-cooking, you-name-it... in short, I'm accomplishing nothing, but it's fun.
I have one big trip planned for the summer: I'm going to the gigantic comic con in San Diego, CA on July 13th-17th, where Reed and Hppire will also in attendence. I'm looking forward to that. I'm in the process of making comic books and t-shirts and maybe some posters for the trip.
I also have several small trips to Silver Dollar City planned. (That's the local theme park of Branson, MO.) I took Rachel there this weekend, and she's nuts about it. And now that I plunked down the money for season passes, we have to use them.
On the Fourth of July, I have a big float trip planned with my family. If you don't know what a float trip is, I'm sorry. It's where you take a canoe and float down a river. We Missourians think that that is fun.
Not to mention, about four-hundred weddings.
So, that's my life. But I give you my personal pledge to snap out of it and get back under control. After all, there will be plenty of time for rest in the grave, and if I don't accomplish something, I will fail to leave my feeble imprint on the highly-maleable face of this world...
Plus, I'm bound to get bored soon, and I'll need something to do.
I FINALLY get internet at my home tomorrow. I will be connected once again.
And thanks for putting up with me.
Final Comment: Life is Good
Jun. 7th, 2005 @ 06:31 pm
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| » Moving |
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Well, My Bonny lies over the ocean.
For those who haven't been keeping up on my personal life (which why would you want to?), most of it recently has been centered around a girl. This one, to be exact:
She's the one on the left. I'm the goob on the right. Yes, I've been known to wear a shirt that says "Don't Waste My Time". So, don't by making fun of me. (Just a Note on the Picture: I think of this as our American Gothic picture. She looks smug. I look constipated. I love it.)
Anyway, it's been kind of a roller-coaster ride: She had a boyfriend, We were friends, blah, blah, blah. Eventually, we got everything sorted out.
I've had an excellent couple of weeks, spending every spare minute I had with her and then some. Needless to say, Flatwood has not been updated like it should have been.
Now comes the complication. We both graduated this semester, and before this whole thing happened, she accepted a teaching position in another town (about 2 1/2 hours a way).
So yesterday, she had to leave town. I mean, I'll see her about every weekend (until she wisens up, maces me, and gets a restraining order), but still, it kinda sucks. And, at the risk of sounding like a normal human being with feelings, I miss her.
On the bright side (for you), I'm good and down right now, so drawing Flatwoods are a breeze. Dark and depressing. You got it.
No, just kidding.
And, Rachel, if you happen upon this, don't hate me. I'm just posting personal items on the internet for any total stranger to see. What's the harm in that?
May. 24th, 2005 @ 08:52 pm
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| » I am Gradiated... |
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Well, it's official. I'm no longer a loser college student. I'm a loser adult.
After a week of Hell on earth, I have finally graduated. Even though I technically graduated at semester, it felt good to have some kind of closure to the whole thing...even though it involved a thirty minute speech that rivaled having an epidural (spelling? Who knows).
I have a big-anus graduation party at my parent's house tomorrow, prefaced by lots of ATV riding and sight-seeing with my citified friends, whom have never been to my familial residence. Wow. I think that degree's helped my vocabulary.
So, in short, I will be busy for the rest of the weekend. But, hopefully, things will calm down next week, and life will return to the level of normalcy that it used to be at...which isn't that normal, but hey.
On a side note, I got my car. On another side note, I SHOULDN'T HAVE LISTENED TO MY FATHER! I have never owned a manual-transmission vehicle. I can drive a stick, and I used to drive the farm truck back in the day...I've driven my friends' standards and stuff. So when I was going to get my new car, I was going to get a standard. Y'know, it's a sports car...that's what you're supposed to do...so I'm told.
I don't know much about cars. I was more of a SVU man before this new phase. But my Dad, who knows TONS more aobut cars than I ever care to know, told me that I might as well get an automatic, because they have a higher availability and a better resale value apparently...blah blah blah...
So, I was like, "Okay, he knows what he's talking about."
I get my car, and EVERYONE is making fun of me. "Only women drive standards." "You just ruined a cool car." Blah, Blah, Blah...and it's really starting to piss me off. It may just be a regional thing. Maybe only rednecks are hot on stick shifts. Actually, I lie. Some people have told me that automatics (for some cars) are actually better. And other people have told me that it doesn't really matter which way you go, and that both options have disadvantages. But, mainly, people have been giving me crap. Most of it HAS been coming from hormonal high school boys, though.
Actually, since I really haven't had long-term five-speed experience, I'd be terrified that I'd drop the clutch in the middle of the road. But one I went from so-so to awesome at driving it, it would have been cool. But, then again, I'm not a racer. A sports car is very, very not me. I just found some attraction to this one. (Oh Lord, I'm talking about a car.)
At any rate, my superficial bliss is somewhat marred by their disparaging comments.
Oh, well. What's done is done. Maybe They're just mad because I have a cooler car than they do. (Where did this new-found attitude come from?)
May. 14th, 2005 @ 03:31 am
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| » The Object of My Affection |
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Well, I've been pretty piss-poor on the updates lately. Sorry about that.
But the good news is that I have finally negotiated a deal on a Suh-Weet car. I've been haggling with different people for about a month now. But I've finally agreed to buy this little gem.
That's one thing off my mind. Now all I have to do this week is: graduate, find a new apartment, say goodbye to a special someone who is moving a bit off, make my high school students some finals, get a summer job, and live it up the last few days with my friends. Whew.
Needless to say, don't count on an update this week. But you never know, I might surprise you.
Thanks for hanging in there.
May. 10th, 2005 @ 08:42 pm
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| » What Have I Been Up To Lately? Well, Nothing... |
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Well, I assume that some of you are remotely interested in my personal life (probably mainly because it determines how many comics you get a week). I hate this, but when my life is going well, there is less time to do comics; and when my life is pretty crappy, lots of comics. Right now, everything is going pretty well.
In fact, it's a very hectic time. The school year is coming to an end. My seniors left today, and I didn't think it would bother me, but it did. I'll miss the little hoodlums. It's also the time when you have to get your finals ready, your grades ready, your next-year-stuff ready. Lots of pains in the butt.
On top of that, I am unofficially graduating from college at the end of this semester. I received my award at the end of the fall semester, but I chose to walk in the spring ceremony. That's when all my friends are going to walk, and I wanted to be with them.
This also means that a lot of my friends are leaving, getting new jobs, and scattering their friendships to the four corners of the earth. It kinda sucks. So, all the time in my world between now and graduation (a week) will be devoted to spending as much time with these people before there's a three hour drive between us.
It's not all bad. It's a lot of fun. Some people are coming back that left before. So, it's just flux, the ebb and flow of life. But it is time-consuming, and it will take some major adjusting.
I also have to find a place to live, and I'm going to buy a new car.
I've also got to make a few new Flatwood books, get the website functional, and possibly switch it to a different server...all this month.
Yeah, Life's a bit hectic.
And that's all I gotta say about that.
May. 4th, 2005 @ 11:38 pm
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| » "A Golden Bird that Flies Away..." |
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Well, what way to start one of these than to quote Cake?
No suggestions?
Okay, let us proceed.
About a month ago, I think (Time to me is like a great pit of shifting sand), a guy named Colby, whom I had just introduced myself to a week before, asked me to join him and six other web-comickers in making a continuation comic: one person draws a page, and then the next person picks up where that person left off. It's an awesome idea, but I'll admit, at first, I didn't think it would work (Sorry, Colby). I just didn't see how these people (who have VERY different styles) could make something that had a uniform feel to it. I mean, I was honored beyond belief but still skeptical.
I guess it's just my solitary nature. In high school, I HATED working in groups. I always ended up doing all the work. My motto was: Other People Are Idiots, and so on and so forth. Plus, I'm kind of a perfectionist. Those late comics? Yeah, that's where they come from. If something is below my expectations, I TRASH it. I would rather not have a comic than have a crappy one.
So, back to what this has to do with this subject: If I'm not totally in charge of something, I get jumpy. It's not ALL up to me. Even if I do a stellar job, it could still suck, because there are other people who could potentially screw up. At least if I do it by myself, and it sucks (which is usually the case), I can blame myself. Long story short: I don't like working in groups.
Well, this obviously isn't about how I wished I never agreed to do this project...
Turns out, it's great. I'm not in just a group of webcomickers. I'm in a group of the best webcomickers out there, and the results have been hilarious. In fact, I'm struggling to keep up. I'm the weak link (which is expected, but not hoped for). Ha. I mean, I consider myself a bizarre person, but they've come up with some stuff that I would have never thought of in a million years (foxes with mullets, golden penguins, blinging apples) and, well, it's GOLD.
God knows I have too much to keep up with as it is. I mean, look at the update schedule. It still says Monday, Wednesday, Friday. That's a laugh. So, you'd think that his extra bit of work would just be a drudge to do, but it's not. It's fun. You've got these other six people to bounce ideas off of, encourage you, and laugh at your jokes. It's exhilarating! I just might have seen the light on group work.
So, this is my personal apology to all those guys and girls for doubting them and the whole project. This is also an apology to all those weirdos back in high school that were so stoned they couldn't sit up straight but got stuck in my group and I had to do all the work: I'm sorry I did it.
Anyway, Check out GOLDEN or else.
Apr. 10th, 2005 @ 09:14 pm
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| » Spring Break: To Do List |
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Well, Spring has Sprung, and like I mentioned in an earlier forum post, I am using my Spring Break to catch up on some of the stuff I've been meaning to do for a LONG time. (If you just said, "There's a Forum?", slap yourself and click here)
Anyway, here's my official to-do list. Some of it obviously won't apply directly to Flatwood, but hey...
Buy a Present for a Special Someone</b>
Update Flatwood Three Times This Week:
Flatwood 1
Flatwood 2
Flatwood 3
Make Two Elite Eights (at least):
Elite Eight 1
Elite Eight 2
Update the About section of Flatwood:
General Info
Website Notes
Author Bio
Cast Page
Other Stuff
Do stuff for School (I won't bore you)
Read a 900 Page Novel (Not realistic, is it?)
Look for a New Apartment
Find a Job for the Summer
Finalize Plans for San Diego Trip This Summer
Have Fun (Ha!)
Days to Accomplish This:
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
Sunday
I guess I put this here because I NEED MORAL SUPPORT! Make me stick to it! Encourage me! I'm needy!
I think it's impossible, but we'll see.
And check back to see my progress. Thanks for listening.
Mar. 30th, 2005 @ 12:02 pm
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| » Christ-Mart |
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Whee, Doggies. It's been a while since I've done one of these.
Lots of ups and downs between there and here, too.
So, what should I rant about today? I know.
CHRISTIANS:
CANTO I
You know, I never really thought I'd ever say this, but sometimes, I'm ashamed to call myself a Christian. Don't get me wrong, I'm perfectly sound in what I believe in and have no problem telling other people about it. The problem isn't Christ, it's the other people who call themselves Christians.
What are these people thinking?
This whole thing was brought about by my visiting a local store called CPO (Christian Publisher Outlet). I mean, the name alone is fraught with laughable presumptions: Christians are into big business (money, money, money), Christians are big-time publishers (Apparently, there's a need for everything BUT the Bible), and Christians are super thrifty so they need an outlet (Hmmm...whatever happened to the poor). And I shouldn't be pointing fingers, but, hey, I'm pointing them at myself, too.
My biggest question is: When did Christians become so dang commercialized?
Christian T-Shirts
Christian Music
Christian Bumper Stickers (Jesus, save us)
Christian Mints
Christian Comic Books (Preserve us)
Christian Toilet Paper
Holy Roller Engine Oil
I buy into it, too. Rather than going to WAL-MART and giving them my money, I buy a Christian CD or two at the Christian store. They really do have a good argument for themselves: If you're going to buy it anyway, why not give your money to God's people? If you've got to wear clothes, why not wear clothes that advertise you're a Christian? If you're going to chew a mint...
And then my brain kicks in. If money is the root of all evil, do we really want to make ourselves more evil? If these things are going to be changing people's lives left and right, shouldn't they be giving them away? Why not give the bum lying in the ditch one of your "A Bread Crumb and Fish" shirts? Really.
And if a "Made in Taiwan" T-shirt is the best way of telling someone else what you believe in, give up now, please.
CHRISTIANS:
Canto II
Obviously, I wasn't too disgusted by my own realization of Christian Commercialism, because I finished my shopping. I always browse the shelves of Christian "Novels" (if you can call them that) for something original or at least thought-provoking. No Luck. Granted there are some Christian authors who are actually GOOD WRITERS and make you think (Frank Peretti), and let's not forget the late greats: Lewis, Tolkien, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky. But as for the Christian "Literature" market of today, it sucks. I found about ninety books that had some goosey-eyed heroine on the cover with some strong-jawed man looking perturbed in the background. What the crap is this? It's a Harlequin romance novel with all the graphic sex description taken out of it.
I've honestly given these Christian Novels a chance (not really the Romance ones. I can't stand to touch those), and I've had it.
Breakdown of Christian Books:
You have your Not-really-Romance novels, as I mentioned earlier.
There are these "action" stories that always take place in some exotic locale. Most of the characters in these are lucky to have one dimension to them. They're always fighting terrorists, and are A) Running from God or B) Such Unbelievably Strong Christians that they never doubt themselves or C) the Child of B. And in the end, all the terrorists get saved, the whole town gets saved, the dog gets saved. Sure, that would be great if it happened, but c'mon toss me some realism here.
There's this one series about Amish women that's so predictable that you can look at the cover and you can tell how it ends.
There are about 9,000 books where somebody clones Christ. Nevermind, that the other 8,999 books have the same premise, write another one.
And don't get me started on the "Left Behind" Series. *shudder*
What I'm saying is that Christians are either A) very stupid and enjoy reading this kind of crap or B) just reading it because it has a fish symbol by the publisher. I'm leaning toward B, and I think that's sad.
Hopefully, someone or something will come along to make Christians realize that their target audience shouldn't be themselves, it should be the people who aren't Christians. Take the money you would put into a fish symbol for your car, or a crappy Holy-quin Romance novel and give it to someone else who needs it more than you do. Isn't that what the whole thing's about anyway? I dunno.
And if Christian artists wrote something GOOD (which a few have), it might find its way out of their self-created, capitalistic box and affect someone who doesn't have a fish tattooed into their hand.
Notes:
A little googling on "Christians" brought up this image. Positive, isn't it?
Mar. 28th, 2005 @ 07:44 pm
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| » New Wallpaper/Poster Thing |
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Well, I got this idea the other day for some reason when I saw this poster:
Since I'm a Star Wars nut and I've always loved the cheesiness of that poster...
This came about:
If you didn't like Beatrice before, guys, you'll like her now.
Alex has been hitting the gym as well, it looks like.
Cheese. Cheese. Cheese.
And it's availabe in Wallpaper format if you like
HERE
That's it.
Tell me what ya think.
I'm going to try to make it into a poster that could be sold... to my mother...
Feb. 22nd, 2005 @ 08:28 pm
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| » With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility |
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The other day I was talking to my little brother (we're about on the same mental level), discussing his favorite topic: X-MEN. Actually, it was more like he was babbling on about the vastness of the mutant prowress, and I was trying to remember why I bother to come home anymore. But, anyway, just to break up the routine a bit and hear someone else's voice for a change, I declared that my favorite superhero when I was his age was none other than Mr. Peter Parker, himself.
When all I received was a blank stare in return, I realized that I had neglected an important part of older-brotherhood. I pretty much grabbed him by the collar of the shirt, threw him into the car, and plowed down to the movie store. Two Spider-Man movies later he was effectively indoctrinated.
I had to keep from snapping his neck during certain intervals of the movie, when comments like, "This sucks" and "Jean Grey is so much cooler than ___________" were spewed forward. I mean, I love the little guy, but I will kill him if he refuses to like Spider-Man.
By the end, he was effectively on the Dark Side. He declared that Spider-Man is very cool and he can't wait until the next movie comes out. I can rest easier now. Unfortunately, he's still talking non-stop, but at least now it's about Spider-Man. Hey, he's Twelve.
It should come as no surprise to most of you that I would be the kind of person to talk philosophically about a character who wears red and blue spandex and says things like, "You light up my life" when he throws a super-villain into a power cable. I can't help it. So, here goes.
I think my generation has reached the point in our lives when our cultural references come to a screeching halt. No longer are we obsessed with What's New, but rather What was New Back Then. The best way to get a conversation started between my friends and I anymore is to mention Vanilla Ice or something called a "Popple". Fascinating topics, huh? So, I'm justified to talk about comic books even though I'm nearing twenty-three years of age (WHICH WILL OCCUR ON FEB. 24TH: HINT HINT).
Spider-Man has always been my favorite, for some reason. Maybe because he's the geeky, brainy guy who just happened to get bitten by the radioactive spider which just happened to endow him with super powers which just so happened to get him in good with the ever-lovely Mary Jane Watson. It's enough to make any Middle School dork drool. I can't believe there aren't more instances of intentional spider bites at the hands (or on the hands) of gulliable nerds everywhere. When I was at that age, I wanted to be Spider-Man. Screw Captain America. Screw Wolverine. And definitely screw Superman and Batman. Spider-Man was the best.
And still is.
(Feel free to argue with me, if you like)
Spider-Man 2 just proved that even more true for me. Maybe it was the coupling of my favorite Superhero with my favorite Super-Villain (Dr. Octopus). Most people claim that "Superman" is the best super hero movie ever made, but it's not. It could easily beat out the first Spiderman, but Spiderman 2 is just a dang good movie. Even people who don't like superheroes loved this movie. It's amazing.
But that's not the point.
Actually, I don't remember what the point was in the first place...
People on List to Meet in my Life:
Mel Brooks (better hurry up)
George Lucas (losing luster with each passing prequel)
Sandra Bullock (preferrably at our wedding)
J.D. Salinger (If he's even still alive)
Ursula K. Leguin (I've gotten a letter from her. That's close.)
Wes Anderson (He'd probably be boring, but, man, he can make some movies.)
And last, but definitely not least...
Stan Lee
I just think he's cool. I saw an interview he did with Kevin Smith, and even taking in account the amount of phoniness (See why I wanna meet, Salinger?) that comes with almost every famous person, he's the humblest genius I've ever seen. The whole time he was down-playing his whole involvement in HIS comic book company. C'mon, you're Stan Lee. You have to admit that SOME of the credit should go to YOU. But it's very commendable for him to be that way. Seeing that interview just reinforced by prior prejudice.
(*sticks out tongue*) D.C. SUCKS!
Why am I talking about this? Oh yeah, I'm doing a crappy Super-hero parody...
Here are some old, old sketches from when I was about my brother's age.
Like I said before, the Elite Eight (back then, I thought it was spelled "elete") was something I came up with in fifth grade. It's always been something that's found its way out of pencil throughout the years when there's nothing else to doodle. They were patterned after people I went to fifth grade with, but over time they kind of took on their own personalities, as they and the people they were patterned after got a bit older.
This is a picture of Marvel Boy.
I think he was always called that.
Jean Grey used to be called "Marvel Girl" (I think), so I just ripped off that idea and gave it to this guy.
Funny, he has the same height and age that I did back then...hmmmmmm...
Here's a cast shot.
Back then (not that much has changed), I never had an original thought. This is what they looked like. Is that Reed Richards? No, it's Brandon Something-another who's called "Stretcho". Lame, I know. For the rest can we say Poison Ivy? Nightcrawler? Namorina? Don't worry. The new Elite Eight have been tweaked. I can no longer be sued by every major comic book corporation known to man for copyright infringement.
This is breath-taking. Apparently, "Stretcho" *shudder* can stretch miles and miles, even out of the Earth's atmosphere. Amazing (just like Spider-Man). And don't you think that Scatterbrain is an original creation. Oh, No, No. She just bears startling resemblances to a minor villain from Excalibur (Another of my favorites): same powers, same costume, same name. It's Uncanny (just like the X-Men).
Here's a later sketch of Marvel Boy.
I seem to like drawing him more than the others. Hmmmm....
Narcissism? I didn't say that.
This is another guy I made up. You can tell my its amount of suckage that I did, in fact, create this guy from scratch. He belonged to another group of crime-figthers. Since I took the Elite Eight oh, so seriously, I had to make another group that was spoofish. They were S.Q.U.A.D. I don't remember what it stood for...probably nothing...it just sounded cool. Anyway, I thought this was pretty funny. Obviously, I knew nothing about weight. If you're a guy that weighs 120 lbs., you might see a Medical Doctor. I like his Origin. Hee Hee.
Here's one you've seen before. She's a S.Q.U.A.D. member, too. Complete ditzy, Earth-destroying powers, Sunny Disposition. I'm sure she'll show up in the Elite Eight somewhere. I still crack myself up. On a side note, every member of SQUAD (I'm sick of periods) worked for a mysterious man who appeared over a television screen (Charlie, anyone?) named "the Man". So, technically, they worked for "the Man." I don't think I even knew what that meant back then. Oh, well.
In Conclusion:
1.) I hope you enjoyed these pictures.
2.) Everyone should love SPIDER-MAN. After all, he loves you. So does Jesus, but he doesn't have cool web-slinging abilities.
3.) Maybe now you'll understand where I'll be going with the whole mini-comic super hero thing.
4.) Thanks for reading.
*Hissing Noise*
*Silhouette swooping between dark buildings*
Feb. 13th, 2005 @ 04:01 pm
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flatwood's journal
