March 31, 2007

My Gimp Finger

This is my gimp finger.

Once upon a time when I was 11 years old, my phys ed class was doing dodgeball in the gym. I was having fun up until the point when someone hurled a ball right at my face. Instinctively, I put up my hand to knock it away.

My little finger was the first officer on the scene and was frankly no match for a spinning ball thrown with such force. The ball won the fight and my finger snapped to one side like a dry twig. I seem to recall the kid who threw the ball apologizing after I got back to school.

After the initial CRACK! moment it didn't exactly hurt, but I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw the way the finger was sticking off sideways, turning purple, and swelling up. The gym teacher came over and assured me that I had merely 'jammed' the finger, and helpfully gave it a few times.

I have the worst luck with random asshole men aggravating my injuries with brute force, don't I?

Anyway, his attempts to pop the finger back in place caused the actual pain to kick in, and because I was a socially retarded little psycho-boy, I didn't know how to tell him to fucking quit it. He finally allowed as how he guessed it might not just be jammed after all, and sent me to the school nurse.

The nurse took one look at the finger before she cursed my gym teacher's stupidity and promptly called my father to take me to a doctor. By the time he showed up on his motorcycle (which was our sole family transportation in the years before the infamous Yellow Rolls Canardly), the finger was nearly twice its original size, dark grayish-purple, and sending jolts of spectacular pain up my arm. The ice packs, they did nothing.

The doctor took a few X-rays and then informed me that (gasp!) my finger had been borked to the sky and back. He made comments regarding the unexpected severity of the fracture, and then set me up with a cast.

Not a splint--a plaster cast that bound the broken finger to its neighbor in a sturdy half-Hook'em-Horn gesture and went all the way up to my elbow.

I had to wear the damn cast for weeks, and I frankly loved it. I think every lonely kid wants the glamour of a cast, even if only your blood relatives ever actually bother to sign it. I was irritated that they wouldn't give me a black one like a boy at school had, but at least it wasn't PINK like my sister's had been when she broke her arm.

Anyway, after a while the glamour of your very own plaster cast wears off. I think that's right around the time the vinegar smell of unwashed arm-sweat starts to overwhelm your person.

I lost a copper penny down the side of the cast at some point, and was unable to retrieve it with pens or chopsticks. By the time the cast came off the coin had oxidized and turned a circle of my arm green. It was awesome.

Anyway, long story short: the finger healed, but was not fixed. To this day, it sticks off as if to point out the direction that long-ago dodgeball had been spinning.

My gimp finger is not anchored to the other digits and does not follow their rules. It has decided to do its own thing and screw the so-called convention of symmetry.

Not only that, but it also has its own soundtrack! The knuckle makes what my friends and family have described as a creepy and/or disgusting TOK TOK TOK noise whenever I bend it. The sound is accompanied by mild pain from the finger joint, which I stopped noticing long ago, but which has recently become problematic enough to warrant my renewed attention.

This past January, when I was down in Omaha watching my Mom die and be turned into a garbage bag full of ashes, I took to wearing her favorite cheap-ass ring on my left hand. I'm not big into jewelry, but meh.

Anyway, I noticed that whenever I'd wash my hands, Gimp Finger would hurt like the blue blazes when mashed together with my ring finger. I figured the excruciating burning sensation meant I'd hit a nerve or something and resolved to be more careful in the future. Nothing in the world feels as horrible as that escalating burning pinching feeling you get when you fuck up a nerve.

Well, it's now almost April, and I haven't worn a ring in over a month. But still, the pain is getting worse and worse. It's isolated to this area:

All it takes to set it off is touching the outlined area. If I pick anything up in that hand, I have to watch that it isn't touching Gimp Finger, or else I'm apt to drop it from the blaze of agony that follows. It also hurts like a bitch to press on the knuckles, but only of Gimp Finger.

A case of bonsai arthritis, maybe? Seebs suggested it might be bone spurs, but I know next to nothing about the phenomenon.

Splinter Thumb (you remember him, from last February?) and Gimp Finger are now in direct competition to see who can be the most irritating minor injury to my left hand.

I just wish I knew why, all of a sudden, Gimp Finger has betrayed me. I've been nice to it. I spent years indulging its eccentricities with nary a complaint. And now it is a COMMUNIST FINGER, rejecting all my values and hurting like a bitch when I try to put on my seat-belt. Down with the bosses!

Anyway, there's the story of Gimp Finger. Look out for flying balls, kids. D:

Chicken Soup for the Soulless

I went to the gym this evening only to find as I approached the building that I'd left my key card at home. Thanks to the extra travel time this added to the evening, I was a tad too slow finishing up my workout and had to quit early due to shaking and weakness.

I got off the machine before I could faint, ate some rice crackers I keep in my ManlyBag(tm), and was able to stand up straight and/or drive home safely after about five minutes of trashy magazine flipping. Got home and, as usually happens when I crash, I attacked the first thing my brain interpreted as food. This led to me eating a piece of bread with peanut butter and three squares of Ghirardelli chocolate, folded over into a sandwich. Toasted.

So then I thought to myself, I should make something good to eat because this has been a travesty of a meal. But what to make? Soup, replied my brain with not even a hint of concern about how long such a task might take. We'll eat soup.

So I chopped up the carrots and peeled onions, potatoes, celery, cabbage, zucchini, broccoli, cauliflower and chicken breasts. Because a good meal is nothing if not quick and easy to prepare, right?

Browned the onions, added a family-size can of cream of chicken soup as the base, added water and chicken bouillon, simmered the vegetables in order of toughness, lightly braised the chicken under a blanket of marjoram, garlic, peppers, savory, and various other herbs, diced in firm tofu, threw in a cup or so of heavy cream I found in the fridge that was getting near its expiration date, and let the entire mess sit just under a boil for however the fuck long that took.

Meanwhile, I'm over here boiling up two cups of Minnesota blend wild rice in chicken broth to throw in with the finished soup and add texture 'n shit. While the various ingredients are simmering, I clean the workspace and unload/reload the dishwasher so the kitchen will be nice and clean.

When Wolves of the Calla broke the fourth wall so hard the credibility of the last 3 books in the series shattered right along with it came to an end, I switched over to another playlist and chortled along with Al Franken's Oh, the Things I Know for the rest of the cooking session.



Hey, it's overcomplicated and I'm still itchy from workout sweat that should have been scoured off ages ago, but at least I don't have to do this again for at least a week.

March 30, 2007

Battlestar Galactica Finale

Okay, show of invisible hands. Who else besides me and Rain has had trouble getting All Along The Watchtower out of their head all week?

Because seriously, holy fucking hell. I think the uneven quality of Season 3, which tended to jump from spectacular to worthless and back with astonishing speed depending on the writer that week, put me me off my guard. I was not expecting the finale to be so awesome, and so it ended up blowing my mind.

And that SONG!

Anyway, if you're in the same boat as me, this might help. It's an MP3 of BT4's amazing Watchtower cover, taken straight off the show audio. It includes the dialogue, which means spoilers flying hard and fast for such folks as ain't seen the finale yet.

This little snippet of joy will tide me over until August comes around and the soundtrack for Season 3 goes on sale (BUUUUY IT). I like the dialogue in the clip, though, so this morsel will keep me happy for now. That, and re-watching the second half of the finale over and over and over again until next January.

And to think I was almost ready to give up on Galactica. Hoo boy.


March 29, 2007

Harry Potter Book 7 Cover Released!

Fair warning: you won't be seeing much of me in the month surrounding the release of Book 7. I plan to spend the time holed up all alone in my room with nothing but my squirming anticipation to keep me company.

It'll be a sweet sweet hell.

March 28, 2007


Most every evening Goldilocks
Snacks from Kitty's litterbox.
Then on command, she gives her missus
Lots of little doggie kisses.

The Deavers' errant pit bull, Cass,
Bit the postman on the ass.
Her lower teeth destroyed his sphincter;
Now his walk's a bit distincter.

A naughty St. Bernard named Don
Finds Polly's Kotex in the john.
He holds the blood-steak in his jaws,
And mourns her coming menopause.

Dachsund Skip from Winnipeg
Loves to hump his master's leg.
Every time he gets it up, he
Stains Bill's calves with unborn puppy.

Each night old Bowser licks his balls
Then falls asleep til nature calls.
He poops a stool and, though it's heinous,
Bends back down and licks his anus.

-David Sedaris, "Poems About Dogs"

I love this man. I love this man the way cheese loves other cheese, the way little blue things love the little green things you poke them with.

March 27, 2007

Update Post

Er. Forgot to mention it here because I was falling over with tiredness, but the new pages are up!

My Father's Art

I'm chewing through these pages at a breakneck speed. They'll be up tomorrow, thank god.

Meanwhile, here is a slightly blurry but decent photograph of one of my father's largest and weirdest paintings. I just realized I've never shared any of his stuff on my blog, and I really ought to (even though we're estranged). It was painted when I was very little, about two decades and a million burned bridges ago.

I can see a lot of my style in his work, which isn't surprising since he's the one whose work I studied the most. Like father, like son, I guess. Except I am not schizophrenic (yet, and hopefully not ever) and I only wish I had his talent for painting.

The canvas of this piece (whose title I've forgotten) once had to be repaired after my mother's lover Mark (they were poly in the early 80s) freaked out on acid and stabbed the alien figure right in the big spooky black eyes.

March 26, 2007

Late Late Late

Corel is FINALLY fixed (again) and I'm getting it reconfigured (again) before I start coloring the pages.

Last time I tried to fix all my settings as I needed them, and the comic took about four times as long as it should have. The process left me near hysteria at various points.

So: Three pages tonight or tomorrow, and four MORE pages on Sunday. Remind me to never install Painter ANYTHING again.

Outside, it is like 80 degrees. Uncomfortably warm six or seven days after the last flurries of snow. All the green plants in my part of the yard have started sending out shoots.

The cops finished their evidence gathering yesterday. The shrine in front of the house is about double the size it was the day before. If I get some time to myself today (meaning, if I can get away from Corel for twenty minutes) I was thinking about walking down there and taking a photo. That's something about myself that I find intersting-- I have to have pictures of everything important that happens in my world, or I die.

March 25, 2007

Thin Ice

Winter is over.

All hail spring!
Somebody posted this over on Stupid_Free in response to a random fucktard, and it's too groovy not to share:

Not to be a sexist pig or anything, but I'd be on her so fast our clothes would still be standing in the living room without us, talking about the weather.

March 24, 2007

More Crime Drama

Things have been unreal on my block ever since yesterday. There's a shrine in front of the victims' house with teddy bears and candles, and people are just standing around watching the cops work the scene. The street is lined with parked cars for blocks. Everyone and their mother came out to enjoy the nice weather and free show.

They had the entire area blocked off all day yesterday processing the scene. Seebs saw them towing a vehicle with a police escort, and every two minutes another car was using our driveway to turn around. News vans went by every now and then, and I even saw one of those bubbleheaded reporter ladies walking around near the yellow tape in an ugly News TV skirt suit.

I couldn't make out much detail of the scene with the naked eye so I used my digital zoom (which can read the frickin' license plates on the cruisers, as it turns out) and took photos instead. I didn't think I could take walking down there to gawp with the rest of them. I guess I secretly feel like my rubbernecking is morally superior or something.

They had officers at the perimeters waving people through and watching for trouble, but since they took the tape down that's probably not happening anymore. Still no arrests. The story keeps getting grislier as details are released, but they swear it was no random slaughter.

Here's the latest report.

We're locking our doors and keeping the blinds drawn. I had trouble sleeping until I brought my hunting knife into bed with me. And even then random noises made me nervous. I'm no coward but the vibe around the neighborhood right now is fucking intense and, well, unreal.

Deleted Painter, but Corel's still borked. The brushes will load, but there's a short freeze of the program that I'm not willing to settle for. No progress on the comic so far today because of the chaos.

I got to hit Como Park with the roomies and play catch for a while, so that's nice. I looked at people's dogs and tried to think of what I'd like to get once I'm ready to adopt.

In other news, I have become absolutely addicted to banana cream pie. HOW can it be so DELICIOUS? It is bananas!

I'll go mess with Corel some more, then hit the sack early I think. Tomorrow's gonna be a big day.

Sometimes Daria Speaks For Me

Online Videos by

Oh, LOL. A world of LOL.

March 23, 2007

The Song That Never Ends


The only things I've installed lately are Painter Essentials and The Gimp. Last time it was Painter Essentials, just. The verdict: Painter makes Photo-PAINT jealous.

And today I got my first ever blue screen of death on this system. Rebooted to find Avast! spazzing out that I had picked up a trojan from IE.

Tomorrow I gotta fix Corel and that could run long. Which means this week's update is probably going to be late. Yarghhh.

I'm gonna go to bed so I'm fresh for the computer torment tomorrow. Until then, have some hair porn! The rat's nest has officially hit knee-length.

Another Beautiful Morning in St. Paul...

I just got an email from someone who knows where I live, wanting to make sure I was all right. I checked the local news, and there was a triple homicide down my street while I slept this morning.

The killer is still at large, but the cops don't seem to think it was random. The whole thing happened two blocks down, but if I go outside with my glasses on I can see it from the yard.

EDIT: Oh, fuck me. The survivors are saying it was a robbery. They didn't have enough money so the guy blew their heads off.

March 21, 2007

Progress, Yes I'm Making Progress

My calves finally say "So who's up for that hike?" instead of "I'm casting MAGIC MISSILE!"

I am throwing these on here because I think it'd be fun to keep a record of how things are going at the gym.

March 19, 2007

It's A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood...

This is Dude. Dude likes to shove women around. Here you see Dude pushing Girl down over our fence with the weight of his body while she struggles and yells. Not pictured: Dude carrying Girl into the middle of the street for the cars to swerve around. Everyone wave "hi" at the lunatic!

This is Officer Manly. He likes to pull his car over in the wrong lane. He most definitely does NOT like Dudes who are rough with Girls. They argue for a long time. Because he has a cooler name and access to various deadly weapons, Officer Manly wins.

This is Officer Huge. He also dislikes Dudes who push Girls around. He helps Officer Manly do his civic duty, and then yells at Dude's Friend to "Get out of here!" once the intervention is complete.

These are the most common sights in my part of town. Not in frame: the crack house Dude kept trying to drag Girl into while she yelled "Let me go" and swatted at him with her purse.

Did Dude and Girl get arrested? Will Dude's Friend ever learn to speak nicely to officers of the law? Am I going to regret letting them know I was calling 911 on them?

Stay tuned and find out!


I just had to call the cops on some thug-4-lyfe-baby looking piece of shit for beating a girl up and pushing her against the fence while his friend sat in their car and stared. The cops were there about 2 minutes later, which was nice. The dude was chasing her around and dragging her into the road and crap. I said he had 3 seconds before I called on them and they just looked at me. Like I was speaking Martian or something.

Just what I need. A gang-banger in a violent part of town, pissed off at me for calling the cops on him.

Season's Bleedings!

Looking outside lately, I can tell that spring is definitely nigh. I'm ready for it, even though I really like Minnesota winters.

The interesting thing is that, when I think back, I can't tell whether or not I dodged the winter depression bullet this year. I feel like I must have, because otherwise how the hell did I not spend the past couple of weeks huddled in a corner crying like a little kid?

Such amazingly fucked-up things have happened since Christmas. How can life cram so many opportunities to kick a person when they're down into one short season? If I weren't me, I'd be offended on my behalf.

But since I am me, I've decided to cope with one emergency at a time from now on, and let the rest go. Because seriously, fuck it. No disaster is worth several days of heart palpitations and insomnia.

And even now, whenever the phone rings I panic for a split second thinking it's someone calling to tell me another loved one just died. But really, losing another relative after Mom would be like a really bad sequel to the scariest movie ever made. I'm trying not to be all macho and scream "Bring it ON, bitches," though. One thing 2007 has taught me is that nothing is safe. It can always get worse.

And yet, I feel good. I very defiantly feel good. The only way I can really describe it is that the more I get kicked when I'm down, the more I love looking at the rocks I'm lying on.

I never knew I could be strong before, and I never wanted so much to make every minute of my life count, so I guess I got something for my trouble. It's not much, but still. I want to be out on the road again. I want to get dirty on hillsides and listen to shitty music with the windows open.

I want to go back to school, go for walks, become a really good cook, improve my comic, grow my hair, get on meds for my mental nuisances, think about whether to transition and how far to take it. Stuff that I care about is so much more important to me now that I have actually touched death and loss.

So yeah. I love snow, but let's hear it for the spring.

March 18, 2007

Kagerou Update Post

Three new pages here!

I am so pleased with this update. I'm going to go roll in it for a while.

Meanwhile: my knee has become one big pathetic toothache. I'm still deriding myself for leaving that drawer open when I went to bed. But at least it kept me sitting down in front of the computer so the update would be on time, so it all works out in at least one way.

I will now attempt to keep myself awake until 10 pm at the earliest so as not to bork my newfound diurnality. Pray for me, for tomorrow is... MY DAY OFF. I've decided to force myself to take off the day after I update the comic, no exceptions or working allowed. Actually enforcing this has been spotty, but I'm working on it.

Calvin & Hobbes with my stupid leg propped up sounds like heaven right about now.

Plague Dog

Plague #1 Swelling and intense pain in left smallest finger. This is the crooked finger that was broken during a game of dodgeball when I was 12. I think something's wrong with the nerve. I wore one of Mom's rings on that hand for her funeral and the fingers got mashed together, which hurt like the devil. Apparently it hasn't recovered yet because picking up a plate sets it off again half the time.

Plague #2 Knees just plain sucking. Wore the wrong shoes for some high-impact exercise this week and was rewarded with a double scoop of broken glass in the joints. It faded after a couple of days and I'm hoping the new shoes will avoid a revisitation.

Plague #3 Left wrist taking its turn in the agony spotlight. Resting my head on that hand when I read has caused a flare-up of my lifelong wrist pain. Now it gives out if I lean on it at all.

Plague #4 Bit the inside of my cheek just before breakfast this morning.

Plague #5 Ear infection. My jaw hurts like a whore on the right side when I open my mouth.


Plague #7 Knee pain revisited. Having celebrated the fact that the previous knee pain was gone, I went and ran into an open drawer in the dark. I whacked the corner a good one with the same kneecap that took the impact that time I was walking to work in the snow and fell on a concrete drain cover. Now I get intense shooting pain whenever I put weight on the leg. Great, more down time...

I haven't had THIS many mysterious bodily dysfunctions at one time since I was ten years old and being checked for juvenile arthritis. Since all of them are caused by different things, though, this time I'm chalking it up to one long run of just plain bad luck. And hey, at least the thumb with the splinter in it has stopped hurting...a year later, but still.

I'm going to just stay indoors, away from heavy machinery, and wait for the Gods to forget whatever it is that I did to piss them off this week. The last thing I need right now is for the next plague to be Mexican Hamster Flu or something.

Other than that, things are going really well. Comic's scanned and looking good, donations are coming in at a decent pace, and Rain has pointed out a program that saves Youtube videos to your iPod. We went out for corned beef and cabbage to celebrate Irish Drinkohols Day and had a great time.

Still, I kind of think I better just go back to bed. This first attempt at waking up with a smile on my face and a spring in my step has clearly gone the way of the Eskimo hunting ethic.


March 15, 2007

It's Gotta Be The Shoes.

Thing One - Black Snake Moan was an excellent movie. Like I've said before: if I like a film with a romantic plot, it's good. The trailer had me expecting a completely different film--the real thing turned out to be a bit different and a lot better. I was surprised to find the movie was as deep and moving as it was badass and hilarious. Definitely recommended, especially if the idea of a half-naked Christina Ricci bound in chains turns you on. Rowr.

Thing Two - Disney, having recently pleased me greatly by bringing back 2-D animation, is now attempting to seduce me back into its clutches with sweet whispers of an upcoming Frog Princess movie, which will be set in New Orleans and feature *GASP* an African-American heroine! Read about it here.

Does anyone know about athletic shoes? I need some good walking/jogging shoes because the ones I am wearing right now give me sore toes and don't absorb any impact. Only, I don't know the first thing about shoes, so I'm not sure what to get. I once tried to ask a shoe clerk to direct me toward the walking/running shoes, but she set me up with some wicked lame, overpriced bits of leather whose special function I have never been able to uncover. They sure as shit aren't for moving around in.

My price range is basically below 60 bucks, unless someone knows about a miracle pair that cures calf hernias, adds speed and/or allows me to fly. That would be cooool.

Beyond that, all goes well. Today is pencilling for Kagerou (3 page update this week) and then I think I'll turn in early.

March 14, 2007

Luka Gets Steamed

I just burned the christ out of my index and middle finger of my right hand. Turns out reaching through a cloud of scalding water vapor is a poor way to turn off the steamer, but really effective if you seriously want an instant sunburn.

In other news, and I can't believe I'm saying this: I am SO ready for spring. The 5 foot wall of snow along the side of every road in town is melting and everything is soggy and gray. No more big blizzards? Gimme something green.

I'm gonna go eat some pain pills and hit the sack. I got a lot of comicking to do for the weekend.

EDIT: All is right with the world again. I just had a slice of my experimental dark chocolate coconut cream cake, and it is heavenly. Roomies, try thyselves a chunk. But be sure to let it soak a while first in the coconut sauce.

On Hating

I'm a pretty meek person in the real world. I'm the type who lets other people walk on them and then beats himself up for it later. Over the years I've made progress, but I'm still not what you'd call assertive.

Being on the Internet's given me a lot of opportunity to make up for that. On the computer, you pretty much can't shut me up about things that piss me off, exactly why they piss me off, and on and on and on. In some ways I like this about myself. I like being able to put words to things that drive me crazy.

And sometimes, if I feel like I haven't quite hit the mark, I go off on the same topic repeatedly. Some things that I've done this with are racism, poverty, weight issues and gender. Some slightly less important things include the dread Indigo Child, Jack from Lost, even politics (though not as much as before).

It doesn't matter to me how important to the world the topic might be. I do admit that from reading a lot of my old writing I get the distinct impression that it meant a lot more to me than I remember it meaning. My trouble with establishing perspective is a deep flaw in my writng craft, which kills me to admit, as does the fact that I still haven't quite gotten control of it.

For what it's worth, I've been calming down a lot. The burning diatribes of 2004 make me a little ashamed, because they seem somewhat undignified and maybe a little fanatical. I still feel things strongly and still bitch about them on my journal, but I like to think I'm betting a better handle on the difference between a tantrum and an essay.

Having an audience when I do so has both complicated the situation and made it easier. On the one hand, it's pretty badass when other people participate and I get to find out I'm not the only one who thinks X topic is absolutely stupid. The downside is, however, that not everything I write about is sufficiently removed from the real world and the people in it to be harmless to them.

Take for example my tendency to mock weight-related subjects. For example, pro-anorexia. It drives me crazy that people are casually adopting a mental disorder as a form of diet, egging each other on, and writing bad poetry about it when their parents catch them and try to put a stop to it.

The famous tendency of the pro-ana crowd toward treating fat people like crap because they are afraid of being fat themselves doesn't help me think kindly of them, nor does their "pity me for a week" flirtation with someoene else's deadly disease.

The media doesn't help either. As a great big fatass, I'm personally affected by anyone's reinforcement of the idea that no one can ever be perfect, that anything in the world is better than gaining ten pounds.

Take for example the concept of encouraging beautiful women with exaggerated minor flaws (such as "I have freckles" or "my breasts are only C's") to convey the originally profound message of "Love yourself no matter what you look like." It erodes the message and smacks of Mary Sue-ism.

As another example, I recently read that Kate Winslet is still considered plus-sized, and is being lauded in the news as an overweight woman defying the norm. This kind of bizarro world logic makes me turn actual colors. It's just wrong.

I go overboard with it sometimes, but I can't pretend my culture isn't just plain crazy. And that's where I'm coming from.

This anger is one of the things I like about myself. Is the outrage enough to make me write crappy poetry of my own? No. Okay, not anymore. Is it enough to make me bitch on my blog for half an hour? Yeah, sometimes it is.

I'm offended by what I see as an unacceptable aspect of our culture, and prone to tirades against pretty much anything that offends me. These things happen; for the greater part, they happen to good effect. I've been told many times that people find my rants cathartic (if poorly written or less than articulate at times). The thing is that not everyone agrees with me, and not everyone is outside the damage zone.

One of the bad things about taking a stand is hurting the feelings of people who have issues related to whatever I'm bitching about. Sometimes "No, what I'm saying is ____" doesn't cover it.

When a person tells me I've basically dragged their emotions through the mud and backpedaled or changed my story to make it all better, there's no explanation I can give that will answer the basic problem. And if there's one, there are others who felt that way and said nothing because Luka enjoys mocking people who say stupid things, and for all they know I'll see their point of view as fodder for more attacking.

While we're over here being honest, I am going to admit that yes, I do feel jealousy toward thin people. Not just because I covet a body type that's stronger and capable of doing awesome things, but because I covet the ease. That's something fat people hear a lot about--how easy it is to be thin.

I do feel jealousy. How can I not? I've been told to try harder by people who don't know me at all. People who, while claiming to be concerned about my health, undermine and cause harm to the dignity that makes me want to change for the better. Like my body belongs to the assholes of the world.

This vulnerability is hard for me to cop to. It's something I've only shared with told two people in my life. I'm weak and whiny and occasionally feel preyed upon. It's not the basis of my anger or a secret motive to hate on skinny people, but it's a part of why I care. I'm affected by the same bullshit attitudes. Nothing is more frustrating than being played and knowing it.

Yes, it matters to me when I'm insulted. I try to be hardcore so people can't get to me, but there's never going to be a time when I'm completely uncaring.

Being told by my culture that I have no right to live my life in peace without justifying myself to strangers has been a burden on my self-respect for years, and sometimes the first thing you do when you finally take control of your emotions is unmask and banish your demons. I'm working on it.

I have remidned myself time and again to be careful and not resort to shaming people I see as being better off than I am. I don't think they deserve it, and never have. But I am bitter. Sometimes I'm too bitter, and it casts a tone on the entire message and I end up making the wrong sort of statement entirely.

So: I'm sorry. I'm sorry I make fun of weight issues and insulted those living on the other side of the coin. I'm sorry that I neglected to call to account the people who, in agreeing with me in any particular rant, added that "real women are like THIS and the rest of you are not worthy," thus continuing the cycle of fat-hate versus skinny-hate.

I'm sorry that I failed to walk the line between loving the person and ridiculing the attitude. I was trying to, but I didn't do as good a job as I'd thought.

I'm sorry I defended my argument with explanations and qualifications that came off as cavalier or insincere and thus failed to undo the hurt. I'm sorry I made people of any size out to be bad or stupid for being victims of the same bullshit mentality. I'm sorry that I have made people feel like shit. I'm sorry I never got around to leveling my angry gaze on the Fat Pride movement, which is something I needed to do for the sake of being fair and explicit.

For what it's worth, I don't humiliate others on purpose. I get no pleasure from empty and meaningless revenge. I know from experience that it leaves me feeling hollow and hating myself more than ever. It is not what I'm about.

My intentions have always been good, but wherever and whenever that intention has ended with someone being hurt and keeping quiet out of desire for peace, I take responsibility. It doesn't matter if my offense was due to perceived insult or actual abuse--the sin is still there and I acknowledge it as mine.

And I'm sorry.

March 12, 2007


I've been working on the latest pages for nearly 24 hours in a row*, but by the Gods, they're done and amazing.


*And that's only counting the coloring and stuff.

March 11, 2007


Corel is fixed, thank the gods.

Also, Rain and I saw The Number 23 and quite liked it. I'm nonplussed by the fact that its very existence will do for my favorite conspiracy in-joke what Sluggy Freelance did to ferrets and the word "nifty," but I was very relieved that it was at least a good film. Not "go see twice at the big theatre" good, but at least "go see again when it hits dollar theatres" good.

March 10, 2007


ARGH. Just what I need right now. A mysterious bug has appeared in Photo Paint 12 and now challenges my sanity.

I've reinstalled the entire suite three times already, but still the program behaves as if the tools have run out of ink. The eraser is fine, and so are the box, line and freehand tools. Clone and paint are, however, fucked.

This whole thing started about a week ago. At first the program would freeze up the first time I selected the paint brush tool, and after rebooting the system it would be fine. Now the paint tools have at least mostly stopped halting Corel, but now it won't do anything at all.

Has anyone else ever had this happen? I'm hoping it's not a Windows error, because backing up and reinstalling the entire system will be a lovely waste of at least two days of my life. But I've done everything I could think of and it's had no effect at all.

I'll do whatever I can to get the update done on time tomorrow. Eraser tool still works and can fake the pen tool if I can stand changing the background color every five seconds, after all. But it's likely to run a litte late regardless of my best intentions.

Anyway, I'm having a kind of shitty time right now, and rather than run the risk of having one more thing go wrong, I am going to bed early to dream about things that make sense. You know, like crucifying my roommate with bungee cords and flying her like a kite. Or having the soles of my feet slough off and hang limp and macerated from the tender, miscarried-fetus colored flesh beneath. Yes. Things that make sense.


A while back I stopped taking fanart submissions because my site was overloaded and my email backlog got so bad it was causing temper tantrums. But because of that, I stopped getting a lot of fanart, and that was a bummer. My favorite thing about having a comic online is seeing other people draw my stuff better than me.

Let's remedy the situation, shall we? If you have fanart to share but nowhere to post it, the Kagerou club on DA might be the answer.

Send an email to with (and this is very important!) the keyword fanart in the subject line. If you don't put that keyword in, your pretty artwork will be packed into a capsule by elves and fired into the sun.

For the submission, you'll need to include the following:

-The fanart itself, preferably not wider than 1000 pixels.

-Your nickname.

-Any commentary about the art that you want to share with the public.

-The title of the picture if there is one.

Note that this only applies to non-Deviants. If you have a DA account where the art is already posted, the only thing you'll need to do is send the club a note with a link to the work, and I'll +fav it.

March 9, 2007


Okay that creeps me out. Not as bad as worms in the eye, but enough.

A Song Of Waiting And Fanboyism

I've finally read all of the existing Song of Ice and Fire books. GODDAMN IT. MORE NOW. I was so happy ignoring fantasy as a largely derivative and ill-used genre that has hurrahed its last hurrah... until George Martin came along and washed it all away like the wily old god he is.

Oh sure, you long-time fans who've been suffering for years are probably laughing your asses off at the newbie. Go on and throw your little pebbles and snicker about my hairstyle while I, the whiny loser, shuffle to the end of the line to start waiting for the next installment.

Fuck y'all, just fuck y'all. And fuck you especially for being the one who did this to me, RAIN. You... RAIN FACE.

Love-bites aside, though, this post has a topic. Specifically, Chapter 2 Remix is now complete. Go read it! It's much nicer now.

March 7, 2007

"Galileo" by the Indigo Girls

I just bought this on iTunes so I'll always have it.

Public Service Announcement

Every time an empty-headed size seven tells the world defiantly that she loves herself no matter what, God puts on stiletto heels and stomps a baby panda to death.

That is all.


March 5, 2007

A Good Day. A Cake Day.

Ho shit son. I've had a headache for the past 16 hours, and it looks like I'm going to go to bed with it in a few minutes here.

It might be due to stress because I didn't take a day off this week and spent all of today going full-burn to get 14 pages of art scanned and digitally corrected for a project. So, I am going to do absolutely nothing tomorrow except fuck off and play video games. I'll still need to get those 3 pages ready for Sunday, but that can wait til Tuesday. So mote it be.

I baked five little strawberry cream cakelets. They came out much tastier than the previous experiment, though I ran out of cream and strawberries a little too early. Next time I'm going to do layers of coconut cream and possibly baked cinnamon apple and see how that turns out.

March 4, 2007

Obligatory LOST Commentary

So the Chinese on Jack's tattoo has finally been translated. Turns out it reads (in very poor Chinese) "Beware the bellowing ape-man who pushes women around." He got it by stalking and then physically forcing a female tattoo artist to give him a freebie. NOT smart, dude.

I know Lost doesn't really go for eliminating white people just lately, but still I wish they'd hurry up and kill off the slack-jawed little bitch. You know, like he was supposed to die in the original pilot.

It doesn't even have to be anything too dramatic. He could get eaten by a bear or drown in menstrual fluid or something. It'd be all mystical and shit, just like in the first season before the show jumped the shark.

But failing that, they could stop trying to portray him as some great tragic leader of his people when he serves no other discerible function but to manhandle and scream into the face of every lady who crosses his path.

I don't even like the actor anymore. I've come to associate his face with the expression a cat makes when it's taking a poop.

But then again, shame on me for even watching this show. My only defense is that I can remember when it was a spooky horror story about plane crash survivors, and I keep hoping they'll stop making shit up as they go along and that early goodness will return.

Me and Mulder, man. We both just want to believe, and we're both probably doomed to 8 seasons of pure and unadulterated garbage.

Shit. At least he got to bang Scully.

March 3, 2007

Update Post!

Two new pages are up on the site! Enjoy.

Snow, Snow And More Snow

It snowed for about 40 hours straight, on top of the 8 inches we already had on the ground. Jesse, Seebs and I all took turns shoveling as it continued to dump down on us, but our work was undone over and over again throughout the day.

It's still sprinking down in little bursts, but there hasn't been much accumulation since the big blowout. Even with wind gusts shaving off billowing clouds of snow, there's enough still piled up on the carport that we actually parked the cars down the driveway in case the roof buckles under the weight. It's a bit decrepit at the best of times and I can almost hear it bitching about the extra strain the weather's put on it.

I love snow.

Another thing that happened today is that Seebs brought home a big fuck-off 6X8 Wacom 4 and presented me with it. This thing is sweet beyond belief, a major improvement from my little Wacom 2 (which I've been using since 2002 or so). The old one was too small for me to draw comfortably and painting was a chore. This one actually makes digital inking comfortable and easy. Looking forward to playing with it in the coming weeks...

I got the Gold Chocobo and beat FF7 again. What an amazing story. The gameplay and translation were occasionally like being raped by a leper, but it was worth it just to finally understand what the fuck was going on with Cloud and Zack. The last time I played it through, I missed out on all the subtle shit and ended up kind of confused by the whole thing.

And the ending. Wow.

Going on in this vein, I have shifted from mild disdain to nose-wrinkling disgust on the topic of Final Fantasy: Advent Children. Talk about messing up the best ending ever by trying to tack on a postscript. Square may think they're just keeping a great party going, but really they're just the loser telling a joke and repeating the punchline five times to make sure everyone laughs.

Note to all you budding screenwriters out there: if you're ever offered a wheelbarrow of cash to churn out a sequel to what was essentially a complete story, please be aware that the man with the money is Satan himself, and respond accordingly with a kick in the whatnots.

I think the worst part was how everyone regressed for the movie and lost their hope so they'd be all angsty and dark again. I really don't want to see that shit, not after what they went through in the original story. I see why the writers did it, but just because a formula meets with wild success once doesn't mean a close imitation is going to be cruise control for win.

Then again, if the same people I roll my eyes at for cashing in on AC would just do the damned remake everyone's been whining about instead of eight billion tie-ins on different gaming platforms (a la .Hack//Shit), they would be my best friends again. I'm very fickle and will acknowledge this without reservation.

But enough about that. I have to get this update scanned and ready to color. I think I should probably make it official and move to Sunday updates, since that's when I post the pages most of the time anyway.

March 1, 2007

Death Of A Thousand Papercuts

I am currently fighting a horrible battle against a Serpent in FF7's Battle Arena. And by 'currently' I do not mean "I hit pause and came in here to write about it." No, I put a shoe down over the circle button and left the room.

Thanks to handicaps, I have a sword that only does 60 points of damage per strike, no items, no magic, no summons. All I have left is 'attack.'

I figured either the Serpent that serves as the final enemy in this battle would quickly put me out of my misery, or it would at least hit me one more time so I could unleash a limit break and kick his ass in one move.

No dice. The fucking Serpent has run out of magic power. It turns out he has no physical attack, which leaves it floating there attempting to use its magic to no avail, while I spend my turns chopping away at it with the weapon equivalent of a cocktail weenie.

I just looked it up. The Serpent has 14000 hit points.

Poor shoe.