To-night I have to read Ben Jonson's The Masque of Blackness and twelve pages of something else left unidentified by the syllabus. I really ought to've gotten on this days ago, but my energies were elsewhere.

I didn't end up ordering Lost Highway online, and I'm glad I didn't because I picked it up at Fry's for twelve dollars. Never underestimate Fry's.

I sort of want to do a big, illustrated analysis of it, but, despite its notorious inscrutability, I think Lost Highway's actually been pretty thoroughly figured out. I'll almost certainly make icons, though.

Of course, I haven't even watched it yet, and I'm not sure I'll have time to-night. Last night, I watched part of Red Sonja, which I'd never seen. Mostly it's just incredibly cheesy, but it's kind of cute, too. And what the hell is up with Ennio Morricone doing the soundtrack? I mean, we may be seeing a gaggle of "priestesses" in negligee, holding their swords like picket signs when they're supposed to look like they're fighting to the death, but meanwhile there's top grade music happening.

I'm so glad I'm able to download movies for free now. It's even nicer when it comes to anime--I saw Haruhi Suzumiya at Fry's, and four episodes cost twenty two dollars. At the cheapest place in town. So I guess you can underestimate Fry's.

While eating dinner, I watched "The Cardboard Box" episode of the Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes series because I read that a young Ciaran Hinds was in it. A line at the end struck me because it reminded me of a recent post by Elizabeth Bear about existentialism. From the original story;

"What is the meaning of it, Watson?" said Holmes solemnly as he laid down the paper. "What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is ruled by chance, which is unthinkable. But what end? There is the great standing perennial problem to which human reason is as far from an answer as ever."

A Sherlock Holmes' work is never done.

So I'd better get to reading. Here're a few pictures from Second Life;


"Life under the sea is better than anything they got up there!"


She who covets pearls must beware of turtles.


I found this place when I did a search for "Ginza." It was quite creepy actually. The region was deathly quiet, I thought it was deserted, but then I realised there were people inside two of the buildings. I think they were . . . at work. Is this the future?

I did end up getting a lot done last night. I drew two maps while listening to Paul Schrader's commentary for Taxi Driver, and now I've drawn all the maps I'm going to need. They're all maps of entire nations or continents. I thought about doing maps of towns and cities, but I figured I oughta leave myself a little room to be expressionistic.

Then I had a glass of Jameson and spent time digging music posted by Moira. So I downloaded Ella Fitzgerald's Complete Songbooks. Am currently listening to the first Cole Porter section.

I don't have too much else to say, which I think is a sign of how much my head's finally settling into my work. Everyone's sharing YouTube music lately, so this might be a good time to reciprocate. But my imagination's flatlining to-day . . . Um . . . Here's another Haruhi Suzumiya clip;



Oh, I think I finally understand iambs. Paul Schrader mentioned "Travis Bickle" is iambic and, after having several classes where the concept was taught to me, I only just now get it. I so fail at poetry.

Despite instructing myself to do no work yesterday, I still tried to get some things done. But it was just as useless as I thought it would be. I mostly just sat, waiting for my brain to boot up and it never did.

I spent a lot of time in Second Life. I actually talked to people, and at 3:30am, after months of trying, I finally found people to play chess with me, and spent two hours on a game which I of course lost. But I enjoyed every minute. I used to play chess all the time when I was a kid and I've really missed it lately.

I also had some new clothes to sort through. There was a dress with a bodice I liked with shoulder ribbons I also liked, but the skirt was sort of awful, so I was trying it with skirts from other outfits;



I don't think I've really hit upon anything yet. The one on the left is a little too busy and the one on the right is better but maybe a little too solid. The red tights with the red shoes I happened to see while in the middle of switching to another combo and stopped. My instincts say, "No, no, it's wrong!" and yet, I can't help feeling it works in a weird way.

I also watched Red Beard again last night. It's certainly not one of Kurosawa's best films, but I do love it.

Anyway. I think I'll go to Tim's now, as has been my habit on weekends lately. Hopefully I'll get some work done later to-night.

Maids of some kind were here, putting a cap on my sleeping time, coming in at . . . six hours? I think that's right. I can't remember if I got to sleep at 7am or 8am. I do remember a lot of time spent starring at the ceiling. Oh, well. Lucidity's overrated.

I'd pretty much already decided yesterday that to-day needed to be something of a day off. Which is good, because I don't think I could get anything done in this state.

To-day's Blog Against Torture Day. I doubt I'm awake enough to be cogent on such a sensitive topic. So I'll just say; don't torture people.

Okay. Time to make the eyes . . .

Ever since I cut my hair, it's been writhing about my head at the speed of plant growth. I'm like a time lapse gorgon (incidentally, one of the main characters in my new comic is a gorgon). Now big pieces of hair are curled forward on my cheeks like ram horns. I kind of like it.

I was kind of amazed that the last time I posted doodles, all the people and creatures in them were facing left. Completely without my conscious intention--I have no idea what it means. Maybe I'm just such a deeply ingrained liberal.

Anyway, here're a few recent doodles where I've made a conscious effort to have people, if not facing right, at least looking right. See? I can do it! Throwing in a few recent Second Life pics because. I will.


"The right soufflé."


Some dame.


Yet another of my bird people. This one wearing complicated pants.


Another dame.

Speaking of dames, I've decided Toubanua's a Hitchcock blonde;

In some ancient Norse area.

Also, in China;


She's not always blonde, though. As in this adventure when I typed "Morrissey" in a search and something actually came up;

It's just a really cheap little club. But here's more excuse than I usually have to post;



And the Sandie Shaw version while I'm at it, because it always makes me smile;



There was also a Tom Waits poster.

Oh, very well;

Here's Morrissey's Vauxhall and I album in the form of YouTube clips (minus "Used to Be a Sweet Boy" and "The Lazy Sunbathers", which seem to have no clips whatsoever). You didn't ask, but you didn't refuse. This is how people ask me to communicate.

And you thought I'd let a couple days pass without posting another Morrissey video!

Plenty of distractions so far to-day. Productive again last night, though I had class and some reading to do. We're reading John Donne now.

I'm determined to write a real, medieval history. I mean, fantasy world histories tend to be about evil empires versus good nations, or good nations with a few bad apples. And that can be great. My basic model here is the Silmarillion, which I love, but it's generally hundreds of pages about the few exceptions to the rule that the elves are perfect and have irrepressibly beautiful thoughts. And that's great, but I want executions of heretics and bizarre codes of behaviour based on a sexually repressive deity. I want the truth lost or twisted after fifty years, plagues, and civil wars based on misconceptions of history or religion that was itself based on false pretexts anyway.

It seems like every time I think I'm starting to get too dark, The Norton Anthology of English Literature backs me up. From the introduction to John Donne; "Donne was distantly related to the great Catholic humanist and martyr Sir Thomas More. Closer to home, a Jesuit uncle was executed by the brutal method of hanging, castrating, disembowelling, and quartering, and his own brother, Henry, arrested for harbouring a priest, died in prison of the plague." Yep, I'm on the right track.

Again, I love Tolkien. The Silmarillion's great, and I don't think a history needs to be realistically brutal to have meaning to a reader. Though I'm definitely a proponent of Tolkien's idea that his Orcs were previously Elves, who were tortured and mutilated over hundreds of years. I imagine perfect, innocent creatures having their psychologies turned around after--I mean, just imagine it--spending so much time in a place of shadows and fire. The heat, the ever present choking stench, the physical punishment incurred whenever one's habits turned toward more wholesome thoughts, the derision of, I presume, the Balrogs. Stretch that shit out over an unimaginable length of time. Tolkien handles it with one, maybe two paragraphs, but just think about the long, grinding, repetitive existence of pain that would be required to make a good, noble, graceful Elf into a mean, puerile, sadistic Orc.

Happy, I am, to have brightened everyone's day, so now I'll go to more of the Lord's work.

So, to-day, eleven years after it was in theatres, Lost Highway was finally released in the United States on DVD. Not that you'd know it by walking into any of the DVD stores at the mall. I finally found it buried in the Thriller section of Suncoast. It was twenty dollars--not even on sale like most new releases. I see it's fourteen dollars on Amazon, so I think I'll order it there. It's not like I was going to have time to watch it to-night, anyway.

I was productive last night and I mean to be so again to-night. I did wander Second Life for a couple hours. Toubanua's now sporting a kind of goth flapper look;



Seen here auditioning for the role of green fairy.

Right. To work with me. May the Force be with you.

There are several translations of the lyrics online. This one was my favourite;

Even if we could map out all of Earth's mysteries,
I still wouldn't be able to go anywhere.

I spent my life with anticipations and hopes,
But no one is there to grant them.

Until the end of time, Boooon!!

With a warp, this looping feeling
Swirls everything together and destroys them.

On a particular sunny day,
A happiness greater than magic
Will pour down endlessly? Isn't that impossible?
When we meet again tomorrow, I'll be laughing
As I collect all the world's information.
It's easy, there's nothing to it.
If chase after them, I will catch them,
But I observe the big dreams from afar.

Anything is possible in the future where nothing is certain,
But if I process the information, I can predict it.

Hanging above the thick clouds and shining brightly,
The stars are different from hopes.

Because I can ride time, Byuuuuun!!

Even at the cheap and cool age,
Loneliness and shyness always get in the way, right?

If we hold our hands together,
We'll be in another dimension at our destination.
Impossible things are reflected in those sparkling eyes.
If your tears dry just by looking up,
"Those must be fake . . ."
Shout from the bottom of your heart but it's futile.
Break off running but I'll still be behind.
Let my heart beat faster, okay?

Boooon!!

With a warp, this looping feeling
Swirls everything together and destroys them.

On a particular sunny day,
A happiness greater than magic
Will pour down endlessly? Isn't that impossible?
When we meet again tomorrow, I'll be laughing
As I collect all the world's information.
It's easy, there's nothing to it.
If I chase after them, I will catch them,
I want to have big dreams too.

I feel kind of good. To-day's so far been the day I meant Saturday to be; I'm getting a lot done, in other words.

Sunday I went with my mother and sister to see Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day. As movies that I'm forced to see with my family go, this is the best I've seen in years. On its own merits, it's not bad. Plenty of faults, but plenty of virtues, too.

Once again, I have to insist that Amy Adams is a good and charming actress, able to bring subtle hues of weight to otherwise shallow characters. But even better was Frances McDormand, who here brings nuance to a character in a screwball comedy that reminds you of how important character depth can actually be in such films, and how much that depth needs to come entirely from the mannerisms of the actor or actress.

Also excellent on that front is Ciaran Hinds, whom I've noticed in a number of movies (most recently There Will Be Blood) and have always been impressed by him. Here, I have to agree with Richard Roeper, who notes, "he actually gets to play somewhat of a romantic lead in the story with Frances McDormand, which I thought was so sweet and gave this film just a little bit of gravity."

An enormous part of the movie's appeal for me was also, of course, the 1930s clothes and hair, which were gorgeous.

I thought my sister and I might watch a movie at my parents' house, though it's never a guarantee that I can convince her to watch any of the movies I bring over. This time, an odd, inexplicable instinct prompted me to put Picnic at Hanging Rock in my bag. When I turned on the television after coming back from Miss Pettigrew, I saw that IFC was showing Picnic at Hanging Rock. Apparently IFC thinks it's an Easter movie, too. Who am I to argue?



My sister actually ended up watching it with me. It was oddly fitting, and its drowsy atmosphere kind of jived with my sleep deprivation.

In a much better mood now. But still massively tired--which sort of works out, since I have to be up early to-morrow. Here are two Morrissey songs from his Your Arsenal album;

I'm just about too tired for a post to-day, or a proper one, anyway. I guess I'll let my lobotomised drool have the floor. I only had five and a half hours of sleep, and a very rude awakening which I don't feel like hashing out.

I suddenly got very angry with myself last night. I wanted to get a lot of work done to-day but I don't know how much of value I can do with my brain like sludge. Fuck. There are a couple things, I suppose. Fuck. I'm going to get something done to-day or I'm going to kill someone trying.

I want this played at my funeral;

Last night was the best episode of Bill Maher I've seen in a long time. Almost the whole thing was worthwhile, from Maher's interview with CNN's Michael Ware to Barney Frank's take on Obama's pastor.

But, as much as I like Maher, the episode's strengths were definitely in the guests, particularly Barney Frank and P.J. O'Rourke. And of those two, particularly particularly Barney Frank. I'd love to just see him and O'Rourke arguing without the middle man, honestly. Watching Frank smack down O'Rourke is all the more satisfying because O'Rourke seems intelligent. This clip features one of my favourite bits;

I had an interesting dream last night. It played mostly like a movie I was watching--at night, a guy drives in a white flatbed truck to a house in a regular suburban neighbourhood. Julia Ormond answers the door, I think she's her character from INLAND EMPIRE*. The guy's wife thinks he's cheating on her, and he tells Ormond all about it, unburdening himself. Ormond listens patiently and offers comforting words.

Then, Ormond starts talking about her own problems; apparently her husband had been some kind of interdimensional traveller, and, before he'd died, he'd left all sorts of possessed objects and goblins in their garage. The guy listens intently to Ormond, but doesn't seem to have much to say. Finally, it's time for him to go. Ormond sees him off at the door, and when he walks around to the passenger side of his truck, his wife springs from some hiding place and stabs him to death with a butcher knife.

Ormond comes back out of the house, like she's just remembered something else she needed to tell the guy. She's half singing, half humming some kind of ballad-like song about wives, and stops when she's shocked by the sight of the guy's wife standing over his bloody body. Ormond turns into a massive, green, oozing creature and kills the woman, and proceeds to go on a murderous rampage.

A new scene begins, and I'm standing at the end of a metal pier on a foggy morning wearing a trench coat and brown fedora. I'm thinking about what other monsters lurk in Julia Ormond's garage and I'm looking at a square area of water that's been partitioned off with walls floating on buoys. Inside, I know there's an invisible film crew working on a Steven Spielberg monster movie.

After a while, Joe Pantoliano, dressed in a blue windbreaker and a lavender knit cap, approaches my pier on a small motor boat. "You can't be here," he says. "Mr. Spielberg made it very clear he doesn't want anyone near his monster movie."

"Okay, I'm going," I say, but just then, a wind takes my hat and drops it in the water.

"Don't worry!" says Pantoliano. "My dog'll get it for you."

"Er, that's okay," I say, picturing the teeth marks that'd make the hat ruined anyway. But the extremely happy looking golden retriever's already leaping into the water and before long he's paddling up to me with the hat in his jaws.

"Thanks," I say, and then I woke up.

I spent loads of time in Second Life again last night. Here're some pictures of some of what I've acquired recently. Aside from the Fashion Fair, this blog's been really useful for finding quality items lately.


"You won't hurt me, will you, Ms. Rabbit?"


This is probably the most normal Toubanua will ever look. The hair and shirt are actually both freebies; the hair comes from a Japanese designer called Sugarcube who actually has a tonne of amazing freebies, especially if you're a newbie, including decent skin, walking animation, and shoes. The shirt came in a pack with several versions in different colours from a designer called Sey.


Here's Toubanua in Krakow, wearing the black version of the free Sey shirt. The hair I bought from a Japanese designer called Seu--it's extremely well made. Flexi (which means it moves like hair), and it doesn't poke through her stomach with certain movements like lots of long flexi hair does.

Krakow'd been pretty empty on my previous visits, but it was really crowded last night for some reason.


A better shot of the same outfit in a more secluded location--or so I thought, until a guy in sporty orange shirt flew up to me. Female avs never seem to want for attention in Second Life, which is sort of amazing when you consider there seems to be around thirty females for every male. Though most of the female avatars look sort of like the same malnourished woman with a massive caboose and a tutu.

The corduroy pants, by the way, were purchased from a designer called Celestial and the boots are from--ack, can't remember the name. I think it's Metreiya.


Scary skinless cow!

The dress is from ICING in a really amazing shopping area called Mischief. I don't remember where I got the shoes, and the hair is one I picked up ages ago and also don't remember from where. The stockings are part of the Bossa Nova rosalie underwear set Toubanua's wearing in the first picture (also the stockings of the aforementioned keen seam).


This picture was taken at Capital Hill, a place meant for discussing American politics. Only one other person was there, a guy with an "Obama supporter" group tag who studiously ignored me. I wanted to get pictures of this outfit in some vaguely Spanish setting, but the Spain I teleported to was crowded with people speaking--wouldn't you know it--Spanish. A guy in a Bob Marley t-shirt immediately appreached me; "Hola."

"Hola," says me. "No hablo espanol."

One of the few things I remember from Spanish class--that, and "Que mala suerte!"--"What bad luck!"

The dress and flower in the hair comes from ICING. The hair, if I remember correctly, is by Ingenue. It's called "Kitten with a Whip" after, I suppose, the Ann-Margret movie.


A little more obviously on Capital Hill. The dress and hair come from the same person as Kitten with a Whip. The shoes I bought at a place in Caledon, the name of the designer escapes me, but the place has lots of nice thinks. The glasses are by ICING, and came in a big pack with both transparent lense and sunglass versions of several frame colours.


"Are there any objections to the bill as presented? . . . I didn't think so!"

The outfit's by Avid (even the shoes). The hair, my favourite on Toubanua, is by Smoka, and is simply called "short hair" or something. I got it one of the big, cluttered, Asian bazaars.


"You've been naughty, too, Madam Speaker!"


Capital Hill is too much fun.


"A deer. A female deer!" Another outfit by Avid.


*Just four days until Lost Highway's released on DVD! The suspense is keen as a needle!

Mella's recent post about a ghost reminded me of something in the first part of this video. The latter portion of the video deals with issues with American animation I've discussed before (twice, now). Here we see that the bulk of the animation work was already being outsourced to Japan in 1989, when this video was made. But unlike most shows to-day, we see that this American director actually commuted to Japan on a regular basis and had a working relationship with the Japanese director. The world would be a better place if more American series directors didn't seem to regard Japanese animation studios as sweatshops for cyborgs. Animators are artists and oughta be treated that way.

Featured also is a rather frisky host who seems a bit like an eight year-old on a sugar high in the body of Wolf Blitzer. Yes, this one video addresses all these issues and possibly more. Enjoy!

A great deal of time was spent by me in Second Life last night, as well as about fifteen dollars. But I sure got a lot of nice things.

The clothing festival thing I talked about is the Relay for Life of Second Life - Fashion Fair hosted by a group called Rezzable. Apparently this was about raising money for the American Cancer Society. Most vendors had special items or entire outfits designed exclusively for the event, the proceeds from which were entirely donated to the ACS. And a percentage of all the profits were donated to the ACS. Looks like they've raised over 11,000 dollars so far. In one day.

I don't know much about the ACS, but I do like to think I know good clothes, and trust me, there are plenty there. And lots of exclusive free clothes, too (freebies), a lot of which were actually of very good quality. Mostly free things in Second Life end up being things you're embarrassed to wear.

I didn't take any pictures because I spent so much time just sorting through everything. Maybe to-morrow.

Anyway, I'll now say again I really like Caitlin R. Kiernan's writing. She needs money these days, for medical expenses, and, I presume, to combat this wicked world. And I'm starting to get the hint that she wants people to post this in their blogs.

Here's where you can buy some of her best books, and if you do, you'll be glad you did;

Daughter of Hounds

Silk

Threshold

Low Red Moon

Murder of Angels

Tales of Pain and Wonder

Anyway, I only just realised that Easter is almost here. My favourite Easter movie? Ikiru;

I just had a happy little experience. Some of you might remember the angry neighbour who got on my case for the speeding he imagined I was doing last year. I hadn't heard from him since then except for one note--red marker ink on white paper--left on my car; "Slow down!"

To-day, as I was coming down the street, I noticed he was in his driveway, so I sped up from 15mph to 20mph (the speed limit's 25).

When I got out of my car, I immediately heard the big fellow yelling at me;

"Why don't you slow down?"

I paused a moment, knowing who it was, but still slightly surprised. I finally replied, "Will you stop sending me love letters if I do?"

"Wh-why don't you slow down?" he said again.

"I'd miss this dialogue! I feel like there's something really special between us," I said.

"I could hear your engine speed up when you went by."

I poured pathos into my voice; "I saw you and wanted you to notice me."

"You need to slow down! I'll tell your grandmother and your parents," he said.

"It's okay. You don't have to say it. I can see it in your eyes."

"You need to slow down!"

"It's okay," I said, like I was telling him it was okay to allow himself to cry.

He said, "Whatever, man," and turned away.

Only six hours of sleep last night. I've done worse, but for some reason I'm really feeling the lack of sleep to-day. So far. And, no, it's not because I was on a bender. I actually only had one glass of whiskey yesterday and it was pretty early in the day for me; I took a bottle of Jameson over to my parents', where I had lunch (dinner for them) for Saint Patrick's Day. My sister was the only one willing to have some Jameson besides me, and she mixed about a finger with about a gallon of 7-Up. I don't understand it, really. Jameson tastes practically like milk to me, it's so damn smooth and subtle.

I brought over my copy of Darbie O'Gill and the Little People, which managed to hold a lot of attention. I thought about watching Miller's Crossing or The Secret of Roan Inish last night, too, but after writing some more history, I ended up spending a lot of time in Second Life. There's some kind of clothing festival going on. I'm not sure how long it's going to last, but for a few days, all my favourite designers, plus a score of equally talented others, are gathered together. I suddenly wanted a lot more time and money. I mainly just picked up landmarks last night and gaped (landmarks are notes you keep that'll teleport you places when you choose--in this case to the main stores of the designers whose booths I walked through).

While I slept, I downloaded The Smiths' Strangeways, Here We Come because my copy has gone missing. And I also downloaded Serial Experiments Lain, which I hadn't watched in several years. It must have been at least six years ago that I last watched this series--and I stopped after about eight episodes. What started as a mildly intriguing, rather pretty show grew increasingly dull until it was not so much a conscious decision to stop watching it but finally a complete death of will. However, a couple friends of mine have recommended I give the series another try, so I watched the first episode after waking up to-day. I have to admit I now find the first episode an even more empty experience than the first time I watched it. It's just so damn banal. The plain oatmeal I was eating had more flavour. A show I considered to be more style than substance doesn't even seem to do much for me in terms of style anymore.

But I don't know. Maybe it's just because I didn't get much sleep. I'll stick it out for a couple more episodes. I do like the theme song quite a bit, though it doesn't quite mesh with the show. It's substantially better than most anime series themes, but the general rule holds true here that one should never judge an anime series by its theme song. I've noted few exceptions to this rule; Excel Saga, Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei, Azumanga Daioh, Urusei Yatsura--okay, there're quite a few. But if you think you can judge Evangelion, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, or Code Geass by their theme songs, you're in for a surprise.

I was sorry to hear Arthur C Clarke has died. I must admit, I've never read any of his books, but Kubrick's 2001 is a movie I never, ever get tired of watching.

For some reason, Morrissey's voice in live performances from 1999 to about 2001 doesn't sound as good as it does before or after. I think this 2004 performance of "Irish Blood, English Heart" is my favourite;





Though, this is one case where the studio recording is better than any of the live performances.

The most fascinating thing about looking through all these videos, though, is seeing Irish versus English arguments in the comments;

rnrbishop: "Why feel shame? Every country has its past and plenty of other countries have done far worse to others and to themselves.

Be proud to be a citizen of a country that has had a massive social, political and technological impact on the world. If anything our greatest gift to the world is our language which helps all nations to communicate with eachother.

Despite the skeletons in our closet I feel England has largely been a positive influence even if our motives were sometimes misguided."

cal8976: "thats very touching

you gimp"

For the Jools Holland performance;

richieakasopp: "kamelion yr an example of pure britis ignorance dont think the irish went 2 england 2 work 4 da brits cause we liked u its a thing called recession nd we dont have a choice and superior???sorry mate we did have a little thing called the famine 2 contend with!!stupid english cunt"

bolemburner: "you my freind are a bit of a twat.... because both of his parents were irish and he was conceived in ireland and they moved here like a month before his birth so he in himself is effectivly irish so i think he probably knows that....
meh"

Even this Final Fantasy X fanvid someone made featuring the song (no idea how it relates) has;

Fluffypear: "*is bored and browsing* You still sound Irish..."

I've been wandering around a bit in Second Life lately. Here are a few glamour shots of my girlfriend, Toubanua Tairov, aka, me. I'm so funny!


Dig those seams!


Relaxing at the place where I bought that cigarette holder. I'd been looking for one for a long time.


Dark thoughts by minty cushion.


"No, Mr. Bond. I expect the mama tomato to say, 'ketchup'."


This was supposed to be some kind of art gallery. Pretty unimpressive, if you ask me.

Slept until four to-day, which I think is a bit late. I'm not sure what time I got to sleep. 6:30 or so, I think.

I've been settled into a pretty consistent schedule lately, and it kind of bugs me. I work on my project until 2 or 2:30, then I play Knights of the Old Republic, or, now, Knights of the Old Republic II while drinking (gin last night. The first drink I had in a couple days, though). At 4am, I eat dinner while watching something, last night it was the last hour or so of Out of the Past. And then I intend to go to sleep, but I usually spend about an hour looking at YouTube videos. Like;



I'm a big fan of Red Vines lately, myself, though I prefer the black ones. It's ridiculous how much better they are than Twizzlers. It's like the difference between absinthe and Tang.

This was apparently just uploaded yesterday;



In Knights of the Old Republic II last night, someone actually said "downloaded" when they meant "uploaded". And it was a computer that said it. Boy, it was lucky I didn't have an ion canon ready.

I love how the ion bolts are blue like in X-Wing and TIE Fighter. Yeesh, I miss TIE Fighter.

Anyway, I actually got quite a lot done yesterday. Four hundred eighty something words on the history thing, and I made headway on the character profiles for the actual comic. I've been thinking about them for so long, I figured it was time I wrote something down. Five characters, two boys, three girls. Trying to stay patient . . . But I've gone from rewriting the first chapter in my head to writing the first three chapters in my head.

Some of the doodles I've done in class so far.








A pretty decent drawing of Shinji from Evangelion, if I do say so myself. The Margery Kempe notes seemed oddly appropriate.