by ishtar's furry dugs and crom's flaming member!

i used to read the savage sword of conan voraciously in the eighties. every time my mother would drag me to the grocery store, long experience had taught me that complaining she never did her goddamn grocery shopping while i was at school and didn't have to come with her and be bored never seemed to do any good; and i had already learnt that, so i would instead look forward to escaping her altogether and make a beeline for the magazine rack.

marvel comics has consistently let me down with almost everything they have done (to death) except for this comic. i've been reading my way through all 165 issues (i'm somewhere near seventy), having gotten access to them through another comic book fiend not unlike myself, who also grows faint at the sweeping displays of crosshatching and penned scrumtrilesence.

the whole reason i draw the way i draw right now is probably due to this comic. the displays of anatomy are amazing (although the women look largely the same, of course), but the backgrounds, the fetishy dungeony settings, and the glorious lack of color pretty much make me chew on my own rapidograph in delight. it's like reading a series of engravings.

i used to sit in class and try to draw conan; it's pretty much where i learnt anatomy. somewhere i have a notebook full of anatomically overgrown guys that are wearing fur or chain-maille grippies and big gauntlets, and somewhere in the middle of the notebook those guys change to really butch, half-naked amazonian women in bits of fur and coin mail, not unlike red sonja, but probably more able to kick sonja's ass. never liked her as much; i always thought, why search for a man to best you in combat, and thus win your ass as well as your hand when there are so many hot slave girls running around in the fictitious hybornean age? conan would just grab the nearest--or most in peril-- one and by the time he scaled the wall outside the evil sorcerer's castle with the girl on his shoulder, she'd be in heat for him. i am sure the same could have worked for sonja. perhaps she wouldn't have been so constantly pissed off had she had a few slave girls to work that tension out on.

then again, you never knew when a slave girl was going to turn into a hideous yeti or something, either. or attract one.

i know something about love (not much)

i read a lot about love today, on twitter and some blogs and here and there, so i reckon i will follow the trend.

i know something about love. not a lot. i know it's a lot of things i have expected it to be, and i am not cool with what it actually turned out to be, sometimes. i know there's no such thing as 'true' love. love is no more true than the person feeling it, and if they are lying to themselves about it, it isn't true, is it?

i always thought the worst crime one could commit with love was witholding love. i now know that's not it at all. it's worse to try to create love when there isn't any...or to deny it when there is. to lie about love is worse than to not feel it, i think.

so is it fair to keep what was given in love, even if it was taken back with anger and hurt? like a name? or an icon? or a tattoo?

i think an icon, or a name, (or their tattoos) can sometimes be the only thing we can love about a person. in which case, i think it is fair to accept when something like that has been given so completely that it is impossible to give back. we all change each other. i don't think it is wrong to let go pf the bad and keep hold of the good. even if there is no way there can ever be good passed between two people again.......it's significant to not banish the good that has already happened. and important. and a big part of lunging towards any shred of happiness that we can attain, which is probably the only thing i can think of that we are even here for.

in the bell jar

so, i'm wondering why this stagnation. i still feel like everything is in place for things to start happening, but as yet they have yet to have to happen.

everyone's seeking change. every artist i know is in a place of quiet, not necessarily a dry spot or even a stagnant one, although it is that for some also, but a transition that isn't forthcoming, within a sort of quiet spot.

maybe tomorrow will be different. i've got business with a wisteria plant, for example, and there will be pics. the only reason i'm not photoing it tonight is because i'm going to photo the cigarette pack art....such as it is. it progresses, but slowly; i haven't messed with it since i have been doing the covers, but those are almost done......so more project stuff. i also have a trunk i am itching to modify and turn into a victorian steam trunk. that's going to be the shiz.

i am a fangirl

man its been awhile since i gave a crap about who made the music i listen to. of course my friend casey is there to present me with anything new i might like, since the radio won't, and i gave up radio play maybe ten years ago as useless, anyway. now that i have the iphone i can program stations on 'lastfm' and suchlike. i found a channel named after a band i like called 'vermillion lies' but who knows if the band programmed it or some fan; either way it plays music of that genre, although i do have to say i like vermillion lies a lot more than even amanda palmer (they are more the type of music i listen to anyway), whose show i discovered them at.

which of course is not to say i don't like amanda palmer, because i do, a lot.

but, i've discovered cabaret bands. of course it is getting called 'dark cabaret' and that's probably the name that's going to stick, but i have also read 'junk cabaret' and 'cabaret of irony' and some other epithets to describe some of the bands i am stumbling over.

basically, real instruments are back onstage, and girls (and some guys, yes, but who likes boys?) are singing ironic songs about themselves and not vague universal lovers and sentiments. i about died when i saw an accordion come out of the box, for example. and i had not seen anyone play a washboard since i was a small child, except the glass washboard my ex yelled at me for trying to play.

funnily, also, that damned forties pinup style seems to be drifting to the wayside (thank god, one more girl with black and pink hair and 'that' hairstyle asking me to do a betty page tattoo on her bum and i will retire--FUCK betty page, she wasn't even that pretty), and a strange, victorian-influenced, turn-of-the-century type sideshow seems to be popping up, and i couldn't be more delighted. it almost makes it worth being the only kid in high school who knew who jules verne was.

i saw a thing on tv today about a family who eats nothing but raw food. it all comes off their farm, which i guess is the only safe way to do an all-raw diet (you couldn't do it at the grocery store). they also let meat sit up for four or so months--they call it 'high meat'--and eat that, especially when they are depressed. they brush their teeth with butter and clay.

i can dig it to an extent. i love my meat raw and i will eat my weight in sushi if i can afford it. i rarely heat stuff out of the fridge but this family ate one cooked meal and the kids were vomiting all day the next day. i dig that bacteria is good and important....but i believe there are places that should be kept bacteria-free. and, i brush my teeth with baking soda.

i've tried to mind my diet. i've cut way down on soda because i can feel the difference, for one, and i know that i am better off with more water, from the way i feel. i've switched from showers, also, because i think the time in the tub without electronic stimulation is important, too (plus it makes my back and joints feel better). working out.......ive worked out minimally. it's no fun, and i get bored with the repetition. i will never be much for working out, but i have gotten out more and climbed rocks and walked and been more active, which is the same thing, really.

i try to draw SOMETHING every day. i got away from it to an extent during my last relationship--hell, i got away from it completely. in part that is because i tried to add someone to my process, and i find that that is impossible; unless i edit myself, i just plain won't be edited.

there's just so much to worry about. if you eat one thing someone will tell you that that thing would kill them (and you) and the opposite is best. if you dress in one genre that defines your style, you find yourself expected more solidly to conform than if you dress with no genre at all.

i feel like everything is new, and all set up, but has yet to start. i know that will come when i add some sort of more rigid schedule; like it or not i need to work at least part time in order to feel like i know what day it is, for example, but i do like the anti-structure of making my own hours, and going from project to project for my pay. i've never had that luxury before.

might as well plug

no sense in trying this again without beginning with a shameless plug. cover art by me, of course......














it's the cover of a book called dungeon crawl, by william mason. amazon sells it for the kindle; here is a link:

soon to come are the covers for two short stories, which i will also post, with links to get the stories. one is a lincoln/time travel story, and the other a detective story. i am hoping the dungeon crawl book will develop into something of a series, or at least have potential for more illustration. i enjoyed doing this though; we're hopefully looking forward to more projects in the future, as well.

forgot i had this thing. so, more to come.