Saturday, September 20, 2008

Culimnation



Here I am, at the cusp of another eleven week quarter. Things have finally (and I do mean finally) started to slow down a bit. Within a few days, I'll be sitting pretty in my short sojourn of a vacation. I'm planning to start on some side projects that I've been meaning to begin. In the meantime, a drawing. Just for you. 
More shortly.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Apologies 02

It's another quarter, ladies and gentlemen. Meaning, I won't have much time to post new work up here. Plus, I need to re-intsall everything since my hard drive died. Be back soon!

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Whore


Whore

n.
1. A prositiute.
2. A person considered sexually promiscuous.
3. A person considered as having compromised principles for personal gain.

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/whore

I've become an avid user of the word, lately. I use it, not just because it's funny, but because I find it to be an accurate means to describe a startling boatload of the people that inhabit this place. Whenever I see chicks complaining about how cold it is, and then come to find that they're wearing a sad (and by sad I mean ridiculously short) excuse for legwear, I can only think wow, she's a whore. In this context, I would safely assume that she's a whore by definition...this third definition. She has, without a doubt, compromised principles for personal gain. Lots of women (and some men, too) dress as if they're prostituting themselves in the Red Light district of Amsterdam. Even if you are attractive, dressing in such a way is most unbecoming. It tells me that all you are interested (and this may be one or more of the following) solely in: Sex, Drugs, Money, and any other superficial crap that may exist in the vain world we live in today. Now, as much as I would enjoy most of those, I live for things finer than those. I'm not going to list them, since we all ought to know what they are, already.
It's sad, really. I'd like to think better of you, but I just can't. Seriously, a bearded woman in blue jeans will be more appealing to me than that harlot of clothing. Of course, I am more inclined to think such, since I have this strange fascination with beards.
On the other hand, saying "whore" the way I say it just sounds funny to me. It's really awesome, since you can really draw out the pronunciation of the "wh" in "whore." But that's besides the point. I'm getting off topic here. Apologies.
As for the textbook whores, there's little to be said about them. And there shouldn't be much said about them, either. They are what they are, and I could give a pork's butt (Cow & Chicken?) for caring. So for those of you, in those short-short shorts and skirts, complaining that there's an uncomfortable wind displeasing you, I laugh. I laugh maniacally, complete with lightning and thunderbolts behind me. I'm that evil. No, not that evil. That evil. You know, the kind of evil that loves to put a cat hair in your water glass. By the way, if any of you get that reference, you totally win one hundred points that don't mean anything.
Perhaps this rant can transcend the purview of what I (and Dictionary.com) define as a whore, but to the subject of society today. I don't get it, nor will I try to get it, because everybody's different. Everyone has different views, tastes, religions, suspicions, conflictions, and opinions. Let's face it, I'm one of them. And all in all, this means little in the eyes of others. In fact, I'm not surprised if said whores would attempt to defend their positions [(which ever one that may be *wink*)(I didn't make that wink symbol because two parentheses next to each other looks weird to me)] and lambast me for the things I've said. Whatever. I couldn't care less. I'm a jerk, enough said. And if you know me well enough, you know how the word "jerk" is defined in my context. By the way, if you're thinking that's some allusion or hint to masturbation, you're wrong. Asshole. If that, you clearly don't know me well enough. And at that, I wouldn't care that much to know you, either; seeing as how you've thought up such a dirty thing. But then, I had thought that by the mere mentioning of it. Oh well. Wait. No. I can back this up. But it's 3 something in the fucking morning. I'm tired. I'm cranky. And I just hat you right now.

P.S. - The missing 'e' was intentional, but you don't care and neither do eye.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Matthew Bellamy


My rendition of one of the most talented musicians of this century. I'm just going to keep painting and painting, hoping to get better every time.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Old Snake


Huzah! My first Corel Painter...painting. I always wanted to draw/paint this Solid Snake poster I had. I'm really loving the layering options for the program...

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Hummingbird

My hear beats with the strength of 100 pistons
I tremble, I shiver
To every word, I merely quiver
Like an arrow, bolting hither and thither
Soaring high, soaring fast
Feeling happy
For as long as it will last

Dream 01

I once had a dream that took from David Cronenberg's The Fly with Jeff Goldblum. In it, he didn't become a fly creature. Rather, his baboon had fused itself with some DNA from Goldblum's character "Seth Brundle." I was following Brundle through the hallway leading up to his studio when we hear a loud banging on the door. He opens the door to find the baboon jumping wildly about. Bug eyed, Brundle puts his hands out and attempts the calm the crazed primate.
"It's okay, it's okay," Brundle says.
I merely stand by watching in amazement. In the dream, we have assumed that Brundle hasn't spent clearly enough time with the baboon. This leads to Brundle pulling out a deck of cards. He slaps the deck in the palm of his left hand (with his right, of course). He pulls a table up and calls for the baboon to sit across.
"Alright. You wanted some buddy time? You got it."
He pulls a stool over and sits himself comfortably atop the metal seat. He spreads the cards out on the table, preparing the cards for a round of Texas Hold 'Em Poker. The baboon screams wildly and jumps up and down on his appropriate stool. In the meantime, I'm off to the side...observing.
I'm telling you, this was one weird dream. BUT! It was AWESOME! I mean, c'mon. Jeff Goldblum...doing his thing...in my dream. It didn't make much sense to me, but I couldn't give a baboon's ass as to who cared.

That's it.
More dreams to come. I'm still waiting for that Liam Neeson dream...