What The Fuck?

Seriously, you stop watching Mtv for a couple of months and you miss on brand new stupidity. Mtv being the stupidest channel on tv is no news, it really has no content, nothing you can learn from...or nothing worthwhile, the days of Beavis and Butthead, Aeon Flux and Unplugged are gone, all we have left is the minimal effort of what they call reality tv... The Music TeleVision channel is now trying to create hype to....MENUDO in a show aptly...(or ineptly) called....Making Menudo....basically its a making the band where all the cast are latino kids, and they are all...latino looking, and mix spanish with english...but more to the point....in this generation where pop stars fade like a dream in naptime WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT MENUDO? God, i think i was 5 when they were ending their careers...and the only song i know my mom used to sing to me it went something like..."subete a mi moto..." and then i added "comete los mocos"...after that the powers that be have continued to try to recreate menudo, even calling it MDO but it never sticks....like grase on tefflon, so now we have another bad "reality" (and yes you can picture me doing the hand gestures) show.

I still dont get what all the fuzz is about with this completely mindfuck of a shoe "The Hills", im sorry but if you watch the hills you deserve to be called a complete idiot, i dont know who the fuck would watch like a zillion seasons of the same shit. I personally think that after like 5 seasons those bitches would get tired of talking about cars, hairdo's restaurants and clubs and start talking about life, politics, religion and philosophy. But it serves me right for believing the world's a good place.

Mtv should just cease to exist.(period) really, with all the fake reality tv shows and "the real world" thats just as tired as my great, great grandmother carlotta, and dont even get me started on the dating shows "next" "parental control" "room raiders" and the other show where the guy is being tested with a lie detector...if you believe thats real as you watch it...then you're stupider than i thought. I really do think that mtv is whats wrong with this generation...Mtv has been putting shit into america's youth and put it into a state of deep thought lethargy...and taught us that all that really matters is the stuff thats on the outside...money, houses, hairdo's, fitness etc.

Jai Guru Deva Om

It's October, we're already 3 episodes deep into heroes and its starting to pick up, House is kicking so much ass its impossible and last friday i saw perhaps the most beautiful and visually engaging movie i have seen in a while: Across The Universe.



Across the universe is this musical about the lives of a group of friends during the '60s...their loves, their triumphs and losses, all with kickass songs by the beatles. This movie is about love, love above all things and overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles, yes its not the type of movie a very cynical and jaded S.O.B. like me would watch, but once i saw the trailer for the movie and all that beautiful psychodelia i knew i had to go watch it. I was very surprised by it.



Now, when watching a musical one has to analyze the acting or should i say the singing? because what these characters say when they're not singing is just...stuff thats between the lines, the message is conveyed always in the song (to my opinion), but just the characters singing is part of it, for the message to be fully conveyed and interpreted by me (or the audience) i have to look closely to the dance scenes...yes the coreography...its amazing how interpretative this dance moves can be...and last but not least...the props, the stage everything...its all part of the magic...and this movie had it in spades. I think Julie Taymor is indeed a visionary, she brings the best elements of theatre to movies...and she brings stuff that was cool in FRIDA to this movie. Across the universe is a visual orgy of tantalizing wonders (my critic's word for this movie) and i wouldnt be surprised if i see it again

Altered Perceptions

Every so often i talk about drawing. Why? im not that good at it. I can't reach out to people...there are so many things my drawings don't do...kinda like that hot chick (or guy) you wanted, and he(she) ends up being the worst sex in your life. Well, the why is...there is no why (smashing pumpkins)...actually there is, the why is i love the challenge, and more than the challenge i love creating without responsibility or impunity, creating shit that makes no sense (to anyone but me), tenderly hurting and loving mercilessly what i create. Little despot me, ruling over a world of cartoons, and making backsotries that will never be.

This entry is not an incursion into why i draw what i draw. My drawings are not complex enough for that;though if i were to think about it, i'd say there is a certain kind of Modernism that borders on mad Dadaism with just a little hint of the impressionists of old...or you could say and i would consider it a very accurate answer that my drawings, even superheroes or cartoons are an expression of our times, this whole POP frenzy that has dumbed us down. This entry is more directed to me (or any fellow artist, if any stumble into my blog). My most recent reflections on creating is...do we have to...or more accurately, do i have to stick to just one style one way of seeing things? or can i (more likely) dare i? try and change shit around. All this while ive worked on creating this super cool-looking faces, powerful expressions...chick guys wanna fuck, and guys chicks think of marrying and taking home to mom (after he saves or destroy the world)...im still up for that lord knows im a vain motherfucker...i just wonder can i get the same values i try to attain from one style to the other? the sexyness, the tenderness or vulnerability...can i convey the same message even if its a whole different proccess?

Upon trying something new (i hate the word changing my style, because i can do different things) i have been critiqued (as opposed to criticized) by a jury of my peers and recieved mixed reviews, some like the new stuff and welcome it, others say its cool...but weird, and some people tell me i should not sacrifice details like that...its not about the people that see the art (though i love being critiqued or criticized) its about the level of catharsis, of release i feel when i think outside the box. When i approach something in a different manner. What i say is if it doesnt frustrate you or if it you sometimes dont hate it enough to change what you're doing then maybe...just maybe is not worth it.
...Art...or maybe drawing or doodling is painful bitch!

Regarding X-Men

It comes as no surprise, but im one of the biggest X-Geeks, or X-nerds out there. I love the book and i love the cast of bizarre characters and their interactions and convoluted storylines and their passions. I loved this book ever since i was 12 and i spent money that should have been spent on John Livingston Seagull on 4 different X-books: X-Men Classics, Uncanny X-Men, X-Men and the way popular (back then) X-Factor. Who could resist a cover of some guy in a yellow and tan uniform coming straight at you with claws in his hands???...could you?, or when you open a page and see a guy with a cool uniform shooting laser beams out of his eyes. Or my favorite image, a black woman with white hair, almost naked with impossible proportions and startling beauty commanding the elements? it was too much coolness for my 12 year old brain to proccess.

Aside from its coolness, i distinctively remember reading the comic with a english/spanish dictionary by my side and trembling at the introductory line "Sworn to protect a world that hates them and fear them, they are the Children Of The Atom..Stan Lee Presents...the X-Men" i recall being bothered by it. No one is that good, and that is why i kept reading, because for these characters it was tough to go on protecting and dreaming for a better world, and in the end all they had is each other to get through the hard times. Even if they are always fighting and bickering amongst themselves. X-Men is about beautiful people spouting ideologies, fighting naked (with a suspicious cast shadow on their genitalia) on some futuristic landscape you never thought existed until a writer put THAT disturbing idea in your head (i mean, the Savage Land? the Shi'ar Empire? the Astral Plane? different planes of realities? Citadels?, Genosha?...i concur), people making love, being married, facing being different and a very recurring theme in X-Men...the loss of people they love. Death. The title has it all.

I think the genius behind marvel titles, X-Men in particular (that is to say the genius behind Stan Lee...who ironically x-men is his least favored creation) is that they feel like real people, them having powers is just a diversion. A way to make something already interesting...irresistible. Upon reading other marvel titles i have noticed the toughest challenges these heroes face is themselves. Peter Parker struggles with his life, he's middle class american, trying to keep a steady job and be there for his wife and aunt while also protecting the innocent. The Fantastic Four, is another perfect example, Dr. Doom is a window to a world of action and unprecedented technological vistas, where Galactus hungers forever and the Silver Surfer spouts nihilism on the Milky Way; the real treat of the F4 is the family interaction. Coming together as a family to save the world. The X-men encompasses all these topics and includes more (that was mainly thanks to Chris Claremont that re-defined the X-Men). X-men plays with racism, with multi-cultural exchanges, religion etc. always in a new and interesting way.

During my 14 year love affair with X-men i have seen the title change, go to new heights and dismal lows while writers come and go and breathe new life into the title, unafraid (or maybe too afraid) to change the status quo. My favorite X-Men Story is, and will always be "Fatal Attractions" that starts in X-Men 303 perhaps the best written story out there, the team is lost, the dream is shattered and xavier is defeated by his own grief over his impotence to save Illyana Rasputin from death. And Magneto resurfaces again as a fiery messiah announcing a new dream for mutants. After that there have been other great stories, "Phalanx Covenant" (though it felt like a sixteen part hype story to introduce generation x, that at the time was Marvel's best response to Gen13), and of course, the unforgettable Age Of Apocalypse, a look at a world without dreams or hope, a dystopian landscape where only the strong can hope to survive. After that X-Men became dull and boring, the writer of that time Scott Lobdell was dragging (and continued to do so for more years, i mean...Joseph? Bastion?, the 12?). so X-men kinda died for a copule of years...until Grant Morrison re-enviosioned, Re-vitalized, and of course re-hyped the franchise along with Frank Quitely. Only Morrison could do something so different yet stay true to what the Children Of The Atom are all about, this brings to my mind the second best written story of the X-Men Out there: the second part of the "Imperial" story-line, where Jean Grey Opens the school to the human media, and shows them the Xavier Institute Of Higher Learning as a place of hope, of undistilled wonders, a paradise for raw talent to be exploited. After Grant Morrison's departure the title fell into murky territory again. Chuck Austen came on board and did some very horrible stories, and Chris Claremont brought the worst aspects of his run on x-men to the new run (jamie braddock, psylocke, the fury...eeewww). The only thing that kept me going was Wheddon/Cassaday's Astonishing X-Men, that felt like a homage to the now nearly legendary 2-year Morrison run.

And now, the title is yet again soaring sky high thanks to the new messiah of x-scribes, Mike Carey, that started writing out for Vertigo's "Lucifer". The guy is a genius , the "Endangered Species: one shot is truly a wonder, in this title the X-Men face not only their own mortality, but thanks to M-Day, they face the prospect of extinction as a species, the title has that certain despair of fighting a hopeless battle, and he's continued with his stories on X-Men, digging into the characters as best he can, and so far succeeding...to see beast bargaining his wonderful intellect with Marvel U's prominent baddies (Dr.Doom, Red Skull, Arnim Zola, Mr. Sinister, Sugar Man, and the unethical Dark Beast) all just for a glimmer of hope to prevent the imminent extinction of mutantkind has become a rare gift for me. Again, this is a character so ethical and so correct forced to betray his own morality for what he thinks is the greater cause...excellent.

All right, so my little uuhhh...introspect view of x-men is out of the way, i can rest easy now, knowing i expressed my wonder to the title.

Of The Unknown

All my life i've been drawing in black and white. First it was pencil only, because i thought i really excelled at it, so i never ventured outside of what i've known. Always sticking to what i thought was my strenghts,God forbid i try something new, or i fuck up a drawing (as if i have a deadline). This i dont know what to call it, reasoning, logic, whatever it was kept me from discovering other things in drawing, or art in general, so i never gave a chance to some other things, until i started thinking, "well...it's flat, it doesn't stand out". That's when i started trying new things.

Now, now im not afraid of fucking up for the sake of something new, that's how i gave inking a chance. I wanted my shit to stand out, and have that kind of marvel comics look, or those heaviliy hatched Jim Lee look. Sometimes trying new things is the way to improve, like looking at the world with an altered perception of realism, or switching from quill pen to brush, or using both to get what you want. Anyways, my inking still sucks...but it can only get better...right?

And after a while of just inking, i see my drawings lacking, they dont look lively, they need something else, so i started reading tutorials online and dusted off my trusty old pal photoshop cs2. To say it was uncomfortable is an understatement, after all, we will always be wary of stuff that we are unfamiliar with, so at first i treated Photoshop like that friend of a friend that hangs out in a different social circle, and quite probably i wanted to leave my project half-way and say to myself "thats what you get for thinking you can do this"; but my father's voice came into my head, nagging and always comparing and findind my defects and somehow magnifying them so i look and feel vile. That's when i decided to stick with it, to have one over the old man. So it was still tough to go on, but i like to think it's not Photoshop's fault, but my own demands of what i'd like to see, and i somehow can't get it out of Photoshop. When it was finished i felt satisfied that i finished, and i liked how it looked, but im still pissed that i couldnt do some of the other stuff i had enviosioned.

Rest In Peace

Holy shit! Mike Wieringo passed away...actually died of a heart attack i dont know why comic art community puts passed away as if he died of old age, no the guy died at 44...and it seems such a short time for such a great career. Man, it was his artwork (and mark waid's stories) that got me hooked to fantastic 4, and i confess, mike wieringo's departure from the title affected my decision to keep collecting the book...so he left and started peter parker spider-man and he also proved that he can draw spider-man with such artistic frenzy as fantastic 4 (you can tell these things because when the artist is replaced by another you suddenly lose interest). But now he passed away, and i was hoping i would see him again in some other project i dont know when down the road, it is kinda sad when i think of the possibilities of some unknown project out there that never got to be made.

Anyways, the guy was a great artist. In the world of comics there are those who stand out, and those who mimic those who stand out. For example when Jim Lee became legend everybody was doing the Jim Lee thing, even my favorite artists, the Kubert Brothers. Then when Joe Madureira became the next messiah of the comic book world everybody started emulating his style...and i think people in america also discovered manga (or were more open to it). Not to mention another artist like Bryan hitch or Steve Mcniven...also a matter of time before people begin to emulate or copy their styles...anyway...in this world of comic books where everything has been seen or copied...Mike Wieringo created his own style, and made it original, fun and bouncy...and very dynamic his action scenes were always intense, and his establishing shots and backgrounds flawless...all filled with HIS uniqueness...i admire that, and i kinda hate that he died before i got to see more of what could have been...well, there's nothing i can do

To Be A Cynic Is To Be An Artist

Last time i checked a survey about the best kind of employees, or about what type of qualities make an employee an asset in an enterprise i was very surprised to read that it is not based on skill. What makes anybody an asset in the workplace just boils down to "interpersonal relationships" (by the way, last time i read a survey was like 2 years ago for my psych class). Interpersonal relationships are basically the way you act and react not only to the environment around you, but with the people that interact in said environment.

Yes, its a shock, in the end it does not matter how well you do the job what matters is how well you take it up the ass and smile as your boss and co-workers fuck you. Its a hard lesson to learn, it was difficult during my first job, but then you learn to appreciate how difficult the porn industry really is. Anyways, as with everything that is fucked up in this world, we cannot change it, we can only...adapt i guess.

We all struggle in a job, and its sad that its come down to smiling as you know your boss is driving an imaginary phallus deep into your imaginary rectum, but hey, we deal with it, because we need to, because lately having a steady job sounds more like an urban legend than the truth. We all put up with it, and i want not only to congratulate myself, but also to congratulate you if you sometimes feel like an abused spouse who mistakes a spit in the face with love...(lets take a minute to contemplate on something as fucked as society's values of what gets the job done). But what we cannot and what we should not permit is to sell our principles, our ideas or our very souls to ingratiate ourselves with our bosses. That means let's not be the workplace whore, you know who im talking about, that guy or that chick that never does any real work, but makes it his/her sole purpose to be on the boss' good side, the one who asks "so mr. such and such how's the wife and the kid?" or "hey mr. such and such, i brought you coffee, extra sweet 'cuz i know you like it that way" and makes even stupider comments like "man, you must have had fun in the bahamas mr. such and such" or even worse "i bought you this cap, 'cause i know how much you like the yankees!" i mean... WHAT THE FUCK? its not like we care, your boss is and will alway be that asshole that doesnt pay you enough or steals all your good ideas and he/she ends up looking better to his/her superiors, and now our bosses expect us to what? kiss ass? since when did that become an entry in our resume? and who gives gifts to the boss? i mean they get paid more than we ever do, and they are the first to object when we ask for a raise, so come on! one thing is to have interpersonal skills, another is to sell our dignity to some asshole for scraps off his/her table...what im trying to say is if we give our dignity, our self respect...what will we have left for ourselves?

Happy Birthday

It's August 19th, the day of my birthday, and since my blog is not about analyzing the world one lie at a time (because im not that plotical, polemical etc) or since what i write is not a look a t life through sexy eyes and a touch of misantropy (though in my case it would be the opposite: Misogyny) im all for the self-celebratory kind of obligatory pat-on the back to myself: so basically, im writing to congratulate myself on 26 years of life...(kinda sad innit?)

It is: i didnt do shit, just watch the whole naruto marathon...funny because i hate naruto...not anymore...though i recognize is the same kind of mental-fuck-of a show, i mean...its done before, dragon ball, saint seiya etc, just with ninjas...and more perverted...still great fight scenes...oh and i bought Afro Samurai (actually it was given as a present) i have still to see it.

Anyways, my thuoghts on 26...are the same as when i was 25...a year changes shit...just makes you realize that the clock is ticking faster, you're not getting younger and you're not half-way to where you wanna be...Man, gimme forward momentum...or a sign...angels beaming sown from the heavens with gold trumpets and ribbons made of light and all that stuff so i know where to go.

A Life Very Ordinary

Well, what is life?, yes many repented whores, and turned to christianity drug-addicts and chronic masturbators will tell you that life is a gift from God, and everything that happens in it (from waking up, to taking a shit or finding a lucky dollar in the soles of your shoe) is a miracle. What do these people know? when they're pissed at you, instead of saying fuck you they always resort to the very hypocritical "God bless you" (which we all know is a very decent, yet rather bland fuck you).

I will tell you what life is. It doesn't matter if you think you and me live different lives, we're all trapped by the same jailer, it's called routine...you may think you have more exciting stuff going on, but...well...its only exciting because its new...then it turns into routine, then its the same shit over and over. Like ordering the #2 at McDonald's. So life? routine. Sex with your girlfriend or boyfriend? at the beginning is everyday and its an earth shattering experience that includes role-playing (with deep, intricate plots), toys and costumes, then its only reserved for wednesdays at night, and instead of the crazy marathon of poses and contorsion it becomes an exciting 15 minute romp on the missionary position and her telling you "well, are you gonna come or what? i dont have all night" so...routine, and i can go on and on talking about this...oh, and do me a favor...dont mention the gym as a routine breaker, as a escape from the mundane. Sure, you're hot with your new pecs, biceps, triceps and six-pack (if you're a guy) if you're a girl you're hot anyways, but a taut abdomen, perky boobs and thick legs never go amiss...but that is not the point...if you're in a gym you're even more trapped by routine...hell you have routines in the gym, its mondays today's yoga/pilates, cardio and biceps and chest-day.

So is it hopeless? are we doomed to a life of routine?...well...yes but what are ya gonna do? its late already in the history of planet earth to try and re-invent the wheel and find a way out of stress, job and routine, so what can you do? well, its the little things...its kinda like a legal loophole on the face of routine, for example: i work from mondays to fridays at my college, its always clock in and start working and saying "yes ma'am, thank you ma'am" or "yes, sir, i'm sorry sir, thank you sir". So what you do to get out of the mundane is...when something new occurs...like say...conflict...blow it out of proportion and make it a rosetta stone discovery event, include tears, a little of yelling and door-slamming and a couple of well placed retorts (be a man grab your balls every once in a while, just to feel you power, the alpha male plus power!!!!) and give that slimy provocateur, that little burlesque king (or queen), that little conflict tease, that attention whore more attention he/she bargained for, and et voila! you have been freed (if only for a couple of hours) from routine, and you also free other people if there happen to be espectators, because they will talk and spread this story around.

Another thing you can do (and this is a closing line) is do something completely stupid and take it from there, for example let's say you're walking down a street, depressed as hell because theres nothing new, and you happen to see a pile of shit on the road (probably left by some dog), instead of evading it, step on it! and make the priority of the day to successfully remove the dog shit from your shoe, and then to try and ignore the stench.

Sin Tetas No Hay Paraiso

Its my 3rd day of sickness and it looks like the fever that was once tormenting me has decided to slacken its grip over me...not that im complaining. During my sick period with no cable a friend happened to lend me some dvd's...that meaning the complete set of the colombian soap opera "Sin Tetas No Hay Paraiso".

I hate soaps. I only watch them so i can laught at them, at the bad scripts and unlikely situations, at the unnecessary plot twists like a character finding out he has a long lost twin brother, or even better yet, the boyfriend that cheats on her girlfriend...with her twin sister producing the ever famous "im sorry cassie, how was i supposed to know that it was maddie...your twin sister???" line, and of course you gotta love it when a character falls from the stairs or has a badly choreographed car accident and ends up in a coma or with amnesia. Well this weekend i was proved wrong by this soap. "Sin Tetas No Hay Paraiso" is a very compelling story of an ambitious girl that loves easy money, and the only way she knows to get out of poverty is to fuck as many druglords as she can so they can lavish her with gifts and money. The only problem? druglords like girls with big tits and Catalina the main character...shes as flat chested as they come, so whats a girl to do? well, she has to fuck a druglord that will finance her operation...but its easier said than done. The impossibility of Catalina having her tittties done obsesses her to a point where she associates big breasts as the answer to all the problems in her life and she transforms herself into a horrible person.

The soap opera never loses pace, its always fun, smart, sexy and poignant, all through the hour long episodes we get glimpses of this characters' take on their meaning of what is love, what means to be free to pursue your dreams, and what matters to them (though as misguided as it may be). The acting is superb, id be hard-pressed to find better acting even at some of the stuff that passes as hollywood movies today. And though it is a look at the Colombian Sub culture, at the world of drug lords and money launderers,of high-paid hookers and the poverty in some parts of the city, it also tells a story people know: The price of getting ahead. What some people do to get out of being poor, of being in some slum. So in other ways is not hard to relate at all.

And you gotta love the opening of the show, some guy assembling the hookers like barbie dolls with oversized breasts, trying to assemble a perfect woman and putting them in a rack, ready for you to buy them...if you have the money.

Sick

So im sick, i have a cold, and my head feels like a piñata, except if you hit it candy wont fall out, but a thick viscous amount of phlegm and mucosa. My voice is so fucked up it sounds like a distorted microphone, and i feel like the ghost of myself staring through the looking glass.

My convalescence period sucks, theres no tv, and the only good thing about being sick is that you can watch the morning shows like jerry springer (my husband is a transvestite prostitute!) or maury (help me find my baby's daddy!!), and after that you can have a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of soap operas: one life to live, the bold and the beautiful, as the world turns, general hospital...they're really the same shit, only with different beautiful people, so take your pick.

In the absence of entertainment from tv, and because i already read harry potter and my father stole my one hundred years of solitude (cien años de soledad, lo cual leo en español, por que leer a garcia-marquez en ingles es un insulto comparable con leer tolkien en español...o como llamarse seguidor de tolkien y no haber leido el silmarillion) i turned to my own abilities as an artist (questionable at best), its been coming from a while now that i wanna do some sort of follow up to the drawing i posted here of the guy with the tigers...except with some other animal...except nothing comes up...i hate being blocked like this...and all i do is keep drawing more out of frustration because i feel i should nail this Alas! it is not to be, but i guess i cant stop until i have something on paper, that sort of express what i wanna draw...in general, i guess today sucked because i cant turn nowhere for entertainment

Undilluted Geekery

This weekend i have outgeeked myself in every aspect i can think of. Let me elaborate: on friday, at 12, i accompanied one my best friends to get the final harry potter book (not for me, because i had already pre-ordered from amazon.com). So i stayed for nearly an hour and a half wating in line for a book i wasnt even gonna buy, on a very hot night, i was drenched in sweat, and a little bit tired because i was with my backpack...and i carry half my world in there. Anyways, my friend got his book and i was along for the ride...i gues it was a cool night.

On saturday i went out to get a haircut and buy my comics (i havent read them yet), when i went to the comics i stayed there with a group of artists and pretty much chatted for like a an hour or two about comics, and comic-making, it's funny i was in a ditch with a drawing i wanted to make, and uopn talking to them they pretty much gave variation of what i had in mind (same angle and everything), and i saw clearly what i had to do. now its all about finding the time to sit down and draw it.

On saturday as well i recieved my copy of Harry Potter and The Deathly Hollows, and i just finished reading the book (2 days, cooped in my room, no tv, or videogames), it sucks....yeah right! this book is the perfect way to end the potter saga, no complaints from me, J.K. Rowling said goodbye with style, i love her writing style and her rich imagination, she always outshines herself in every book and gives this characters (who started out very simple) so much complexity and feeling. This book is filled with action, fun, and a lot of drama, it may be the toughest book to read in my opinion not only because of the finality of it, but there's a lot of deaths of very beloved characters...i swear, at the end i was just numb i was already used to some character i love getting offed (dont get me wrong i still suffered, but it wasnt as much of a shock). Im surprised for some reason i thought this was gonna be some lame-o ending but it wasnt, this book is by far the best potter book ever, even better than Goblet Of Fire (that was the most action packed) and yes even better than my previous favorite The Order Of The Phoenix (which was all about rebellion, friendship and family). There's so many plot twists that one can get dizzy (and they are all good plot twsit not the M. Night Shyamalan plot twist that you always expect at the end of his movies). At the end, it does sort of sucks that this is it, the end of the road for one of my favorite books...a book that challenged my imagination after Lord Of the Rings...oh well, i guess its back to dragonlance books

Multiple thoughts

It has been a very interesting week, i've seen new movies, including Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix, i saw a movie called "Driving Lessons" and Factory Girl (sort of). I also defeated Zodiark in Final Fantasy 12 (and that is no mere feat), and finally spend some time inking and drawing and all that good shit.

Now, about the movies. Harry Potter 5 (and the order of the phoenix) kicked ass, maybe my opinion is a little bit biased because book 5 is my favorite HP book. Heyi was in denial when the shit hit the fan. It had excellent acting (ralph fiennes rules as Voldemort, cant wait to see 6, since is basically a Voldemort movie). It had better editing thatn the 4th one (Goblet Of Fire) that i felt lost with so many changes of scenes, and so abruptly (though i understand, having read the 4th book, perhaps the longest in the HP series, it must have been a bitch to adapt to a 2 hour 30 minutes movie), and we get to see that Dumbledore rules. and yaaaay for Thestrals in 5, i felt cheated when the sphinx got the ax in HP 4.

Driving Lessons is a british movie starring Rupert Grint (ron in HP) and Julie Walters (the lady in Billy Elliott). The movie is about Ben (played by rupert grint), a shi christian and how he develops a friendship with a retired actress who is very eccentric, and puts the son at odds with his overzealus, religious and judgemental mother (who is a piece of work). The movie is basically about a journey of self discovery, great acting, i really love movies like this, because you think you know all there is to know about the character and then they end up surprising you.

I won't even get into Factory Girl, the only good thing about that movie is Sienna Miller's tits, and is it just me or Hayden Christensen really, really can't act??

Changing the subject, i've continued to delve into the murky realms of inking and by doing so i can finally refute the famous Chris Rock line in Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back "if you a inker, then you a tracer". Inking is not just about tracing, there are certain things in inking that one has to consider in order for a drawing to stand out, inking is kinda like making choices. There are drawings that call out for a very... i dunno for lack of a better word aggressive, dynamic inking (lots of black blobs, and heavy hatching), whereas there are certain drawings that go for a lighter more delicate approach. When is it too much hatching? or When do i need more?, Should i go with the brush? or the quill? i never expected so many decsions, but great inking can only make my art stand out, so ill keep on that pony

Back To Basics

Man, ive been drawing a lot recently, not only drawing but inking and i guess experimenting new ways to adapt what i see into paper, make it look more dynamic.

Lots of it has to do with the fact that i'm starting a comic...but it has been a while since i have done this, so im out of practice, and maybe i have read too many comics and i am overthininking on stuff that i should do, asking myself, "does this panneling serve a better purpose this way?" or check, double-check and triple check the arrangements of the figures so it follows a more....uuuh seamless storytelling...i know, too much work for something i'm not getting paid to do, but i just want it to look good, leave a lasting impression.

Anyways, what kind of man would i be if i didnt have the same hubris as the greek gods who nearly destroyed themselves pursuing their mad passions? the answer is NO MAN AT ALL! A FUCKING MOUSE, A MOUSE!!! (i read somewhere and its a bit off topic, that men could never understand the feelings of the gods, only because men have only an inkling of an idea of what a real feeling is...as opposed to the gods who allowed themselves to fully understand their pettyness, their passions and lusts)

anyway...amborsia to the greek gods, may it warm the ichor, and may they live in the hubris that brings downfall...and for me? beer for me, may it intoxicate me and make my brain rattle like tic-tacs. Oh and may the muses fall down from olympus (i need all of 'em) so i can continue drawing

The Chumscrubber

Well, before i start i feel it is necessary to commendate Al Gore and Live Earth for their valiant effort (God, i feel like a 60 year old man saying that word) to raise awareness and funds that go towards global warming. God i wanna be there to enjoy great music...anyways, we all need a little awareness.

Well, anyways, im not writing about Live Earth (though i still think it's a bitching idea). Nor about dreams, lately i cant remember what i dream, and im getting at least 5 to 6 hours of sleep (which is the average of hours a normal person gets, so we all suffer from not getting the appropriate time of rest...8 hours) and well, im trying to be less forgetful and disoriented...so so far so good.

I saw a movie in HBO called the chumscrubber and i really liked it...enough to write about it, i still question HBO's rating system, it only gave it 2 stars out of 4, but it clearly is a great movie, and they gave the amanda bynes move almost 3 stars. This movie is like a dark comedy about the lives of the average dysfunctional family in a rich neighborhood. The main character Dean (played by billy elliott's jamie bell) is a depressed teenager that finds his best friend commited suicide, and now a bunch of drug dealers are chasing him because his friend owed the dealer's a lot of merchandise. To make things worse Dean's father is a self abosorbed psychologist that instead of listening to his son he analyses him so he can write new books and instead of giving his son love he gives him a new batch of pills to make Dean numb.
The plot thickens when the drug dealers desperate for the merchandise decide to kidnap Dean's little brother (played by either kieran or rory culkin), but, they kidnap the wrong kid...and still hold him for ransom. This part of the movie is kind of sad, because Dean goes to the kid's parents but the mother and her new husband are too busy with their carrer and selfish bullshit to even notice that their own son has not been in the house for at least 2 days. So the movie revolves around the kids left to their own devices and parents not giving a shit what their kids do.
The movie is clearly an exageration, but i often ask myself how much of an exageration can it be? sure, the situation might seem outlandish, but not the concept it is grounded on. The chumscrubber is an insightful look at people crying for help, whether is teens commiting suicide, or suffering from depression, or even the parents of these characters that are unhappy in their lives, in their marriages and live a farse and transform these frustration into indifference for their own children...ok now im rambling...but it still is an awesome movie, im glad i stayed awake til 5 A.M. and watched it

For a moment it seemed that it was over. It seemed that i wasn't having anymore dreams, just a case of insomnia or what i'd like to call an "overabundance of creativity best expressed at night". But like in any good horror story, shit happens when you least expect it.

It was the 3rd of july (more precise, the 4th of july at 3 am) and maybe i dreamt because i saw transformers (though the dream wasnt at all transformers related...or maybe it was). Anyways, this dream is a recurring one, its not the first time i dream about stuff like this.

In this dream i am myself, and i am in a normal scenario, in this case i was at my job talking to my boss when i spit up blood. It fell scarlett red on my black and white shirt and it shines technicolor, like a clue in a detective story, but my boss...she doesnt notice, so i ignore this little incident and continue talking...the more i talk the more the blood spills from my mouth, and the more i ignore it the more it smells. I continue talking, until i feel something rolling inside my mouth, made of jagged edges and with a very pulpy feel, i dont know what it is, so i stick my fingers inside my mouth and try to find the problem..after not much digging i find it is a tooth that has fallen (im not a dentist but i can venture to say it is a canine). Terrified i spit the tooth out, and as it fell i can still see pieces of gum and nerves clinging to it. My boss, she continues talking and talking. It pisses me off she cant notice that i spit out a fucking tooth...and she doesnt even acknowledge that my blood stinks!

At this point my boss is pretty much having a one-way conversation since i have become engrossed with the events ocurring inside of my mouth, this time, i jab my finger at the hole where my tooth (canine) used to be, and i feel a little bit of pain, desperate about this gaping hole in my mouth i procced to check out another one of my teeth. As soon as i touch the other tooth it starts dancing, threatening me to fall off. But me, being the stubborn son of a bitch that i am continue to prod, until the other tooth falls off. Then i move to another tooth, and another, and another, and as soon as i touch a tooth, it falls and there's more blood. my shirt is now red, and my desk is covered in gums, blood and teeth. At this point my mouth is like a newborn baby's just a roof made of pink-red gums and no teeth whatsoever. I dance my tongue around the cavities where my teeth used to be...it feels so damn real, this is where my mind begins to proccess i have no teeth...at all and i can feel a change in the temperature outside of my dream...i begin to sweat...and its at this moment that i discover that everything i touch with that finger...falls off, so i am abot to touch my eye when i wake up in a sweat, i rin off to the bathroom and open my mouth, and for a minute i cant see any teeth in there, i have to calm myself, close my eyes, take some tylenol (just to self-medicate, because i have no headache) and go to the bathroom again, there they are my teeth, complete in a row, not as white as a pearl, but clean enough, i brush my teeth like a fanatic and gurgle some lysterine. and try to go back to sleep.

Starting Off

Let me start this off by saying that im ok. well...as ok as a mildly depressed 26 year old guy with no bright future can be. But this blog is not about about me whining or bitching about how i don't have the job i feel i'm supposed to have (at least not yet). This blog, this little space of...what? information...technology? i'm not even articulate enough to come up with a breath-taking metaphor that can express how i feel, no matter...this blog is not about me being verbose either (though i sooo desperately want to be). What this is, is like my cluttered little room with all my comics thrown over my bed and desk and floor battling for territory, battling for supremacy (and so far winning), this is a place where i can post most my fears, for i am afraid of everything, or where i can actually write something if i feel the feeling is choking the life out of me.

Back to being afraid...you see, im afraid im losing my mind, im afraid i am going insane...for the last 2 months i have been suffering from insmonia...and in those little slivers of indiscretion...where i wrest sleep from the clutches of insomnia i dream. Dreaming is not the problem, the problem is waking up. When i wake up it becomes so tough for me to find myself, my identity has been replaced, and it feels that this person i pretended to be during the dream (or maybe when we sleep we get to be an alter ego, we get to be some other person in different planes of reality...where everything is possible) has come throgh the planes that divide reality. Yes it seem confusing thats why im expalining my last two dreams...this was just last week.

On thursday i woke up at 5 am (after going to sleep at 3) i had somehow woken up with a lingering after-effect of the dream i have had, you see, in the dream i was a spy and i told someone in vivid details all the lies i have lived and how deep undercover i went for the sake of the mission, yes it sounds cool...it was until i woke up...when i woke up i was still a spy and not the person who writes this stupid bullshit, i was so convinced of it, for a minute i didnt recognize my room, or didnt even recognize my own skin. And for the life of me i could not recall any minor details about my life (my actual life, with the dead-end job, and very few friends), but i remembered the lies, the mission and all that useless stuff. This lasted about an hour and a half when i couldnt remember my real self.

On saturday at 7 am (after going to bed at 4) i wake up, seems i was dreaming i was one of those killers, you know a slasher in a slasher flick? (freddy krueger, jason, mike myers halloween) and i had excised some guy's testicles and yes, the other guy...the victim? it was also me. This dream was tedious because i couldn't escape or hide...and at the same time i couldnt find myself to finish the damn job and forcefeed the victim that was me my own testicles! so when i wake up its the same story, i dont even know who i am, o where i am, i feel like running out of my room and there are two thoughts in my mind...escape...kill...and this took me about 15 minutes to get my heart rate down...and then to slowly pull memories from my brain.

And this way i spend most of my nights...and im afraid that with every night that passes i remember less and less of the person i am. Yes it seems stupid. To me it isn't because i feel my actual sanity slipping away