Thursday, March 22, 2012


So, while strolling through Google+, I come upon this thing, and apparently the folks who do the Kidthulhu books are looking for an illustrator.

I don't think I'm good enough to toss my hat in that ring, but if you are, or know someone who is, send'em a message, yeh?

Also, it turns out that Zombie Roomie is looking for some filler strips as well, so I've had John and George, and for some reason, hindu-zombies, and Cthulhu running through my head for the last 2 days.

So, hindu zombies and something about cows and Cthulhu mixing in my head and I wonder.. would a hindu zombie suckle the teat of terror that is attached to Cowthulhu?  A quick google-image-search shows me not much in the way of  "cow cthulhu" here's my Bovine Star Sleeper or whatever.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Oh, le sigh

I have a general loathing about not knowing the cause, reason or generally the 'why' of something.
So when I get into these weird funks it really bugs me.  I don't know what brought them on, how long it's going to be until I can claw my way out of the rut or better(and worse) yet, how to just jetpack myself out and away from said hole.

I've been in a funk for a few weeks now.  I snap at the people who try to tell me it's "just a side effect of the season change" or that it's the equinox or some other thing that affects other people.  That crap doesn't bother me, quite the contrary, I tend to enjoy the changes, well, except for the onset of winter, but give me a good, heavy, crisp and deep snowfall and that changes momentarily.

I am a large proponent of fairness - true fairness and equality, and I must really be some kind of masochist because there is not now, ever was nor will be "fairness" or equality in this world.
Taking stock of my life and my friend's and family's lives doesn't help a whole lot either.  I could read the crap out of the Book of Job and it doesn't offer any solace, just a kind of sympathy with the guy.  Granted, my life's not as bad as his is chronicled as being, though there is a large amount of time that sometimes I feel like the Psalmist writing about the lonely animals, owl in the desert, sparrow alone on a housetop, something like that.
"My friends stand aloof from my sore" ...well, my "sore" is my singleness, I suppose.
Aside from my roommate, I'm the sole single person in my social circle.  I've no spouse or children, two large commonality-gaps between myself and my friends.

A number of years ago a friend of mine who was attached - and miserable at the time - bemoaned how great it was that I was single and how I should enjoy it.  Foolish words that beg for knuckles-on-jawbone action.  Then again, unlike some folks I know, I don't like to settle.  I make my mistakes and try to move on.  And when it comes to relationships, to that ever-important lifelong companionship that I would like, "settling" is not an option.

Small comfort.

And when your friends are married, they tend to hang around married people, and all my friends are either too afraid to try and set me up with anyone they know, or they just don't know any single people aside from me (well, single women).  The ones who are afraid of "losing a friend if something goes wrong' make me want to puke.

I've even tried the odd dating site once upon a time, hell, lots of folks meet their nigh-perfect-for-them other half through the internet, so why not give it a shot?
Because I like to hit what I'm aiming at, and routinely missing the target frustrates the hell out of me.

But that's not really what's bugging me.  It might be a part, a larger part than I care to admit, but there's more.. a lot of little things.  Anyone who tells you not to sweat the small stuff is a fool.  Every single big thing is made of countless little things.  Michaelangelo's Statue of David wasn't done in one shot.  It's not even a 'big thing', yet it still took hours upon hours of years of training and failed sculptures and work before the skill was attained to make that.

Little things. I sweat'em like they're important - because they are.

Sweat... "body tears" - have I mentioned I don't cry?
That's a frustration in itself, given how cartharctic a good cry is supposed to be.

I don't think I'm depressed, even though most of the thing I usually enjoy just seem to be either a chore or a frustration for the time being.  That's supposed to be one of the signs of depression, but the other stuff I like to do is still enjoyable, so I don't think it's that.

It's just this damnable rut/hole/funk...thing.

Fuck it, this thing'll go away eventually.
Just gotta keep on keepin' on in the meantime.

Anyhow.. art - simple and quick slapped out through Corel Painter Essentials 4.

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This work is created by Dan Shipton unless otherwise noted, and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 Canada License.