Doodle / Update

I doodled this while waiting for a video to load.

It's absolute shit. But I didn't want this post to be just one sentence.

I have finished the second draft of my novel.

Huzzah!

Painting: Gizmo (And Novel Stuff)

Thought I'd throw up my latest completed painting. I wanted to try some straight forward representation so I figured, "What better subject than Gizmo?" Here he is:


Click for bigness.

I was tickled pink with the result, and decided to get brave and try a painting from life (instead of a DVD cover). I asked Peewee to sit still for about five hours and, after some cajoling, he acquiesced. I still have some finishing touches to put on it, but expect it here in the next few days. Maybe a little longer. I have my novel to finish.

Specifically, I have the second draft to finish. What you are seeing is my method for grasping the sequence of the novel in its entirety, since my mammalian brain can only call together small stretches of it (insofar as how they interact directly through the mode of presentation, chronology, etc.)

It's color coded and juxtaposed spatially to help me visualize the shifts in perspective and time. I got the idea when I read about how Robert Rodriguez writes film scripts, via writing each scene on a notecard and then swapping them around until he gets an order he's happy with. I elaborated on it and adapted it to my purposes.

The effect is pretty damn cool. It's like building a truck with your eyes closed and then popping the hood. It's very interesting to see the underlying order of things, the rhythm of the story which I think would be there whether I paid attention to it or not. More on that later.

Hope to have the 2nd draft done in the next few days. Then I'll try to figure out how to bind the damn thing to get people to read it for me.

Music Sharing

I sometimes find time between bouts of angsty introspection and furious masturbation to listen to music. A lot of what I listen to is supplied to me by my current pop culture guru, but one of the greatest pleasures in life is stumbling upon brilliant art one's self, organically, however that may occur. I found Pomplamoose in this way, and I think I can very easily say they are two of my favorite artists in existence. They being Jack Conte and Nataly Dawn. All of the instruments, vocals, harmonies, etc., are done themselves via looping. I think that's what it's called. They also pioneered the Video Song, a form in which no lip syncing is ever used, and every sound you hear you see being made at some point in the video. It's fantastic. Watch!







They're fucking brilliant. And they're sexy. And they're awesome together. What's not to love? Check out the rest of their shit at http://www.youtube.com/user/PomplamooseMusic or check them out on itunes: http://tinyurl.com/PomplamooseITunes

Should be around more soon

I'm moving in with me parents here really soon and thus shall have access to internet and be much more likely to post.

Why, you may ask, am I moving in with someone- my parents, no less- when I've so enjoyed my solitude? The answer is mainly financial. I was surviving fine on my meager income but they're screwing with my hours at work and my basement apartment was developing a bit of a moisture problem. Thus, I could either find a better (and thus more expensive) apartment and risk starving/not having rent some fine month or I could fill the vacant room at my parent's house. Fortunately, my parents are very cool people and I don't anticipate any feeling of being a child again, as they freely recognize my autonomy.

The plan is to accrue enough funds to purchase a vehicle (since I have discovered this world hopelessly oriented toward them) and develop a solid financial base/buffer before venturing out into the world again. Hopefully the situation at work will improve and I'll get stable hours again, or eventually I'll find a better job. (Or sell my novel/win the lottery.)

I did successfully finish the first draft of my novel, sooner than expected, with a much better length than expected. It is currently fermenting outside my consciousness, but the self imposed six week waiting period is almost up, at which point I will dig it out and rework it.

Then...TO THE MOON!

I have not died.

I've got an apartment by myself now, and I don't have internet.

It is the best decision I have ever made.

I am working on a novel that I have high hopes for, and plan to finish the first draft in a little over a month.

I've created a new system for logging my daily word totals and writing times to keep myself responsible. It seems to be working well. Having concrete goals, a definite destination, and tangible evidence of advancement toward that ideal is refreshing and saves on sanity.

Now I'm doing more than dieing and it feels fantastic.

Please email if you are so inclined.

That is all for now.

The ocean and life on Earth.

Please watch this video. I realize it's kind of long, but it's worth the time. If nothing else, page through it and watch pieces, make sure you catch the graphs showing large fish populations and their decline. (90 percent, if I recall correctly, from 1990 to now. Meaning only 10 percent remaining.)

Environmentalists are often accused of prizing the Earth and its ecosystems over humans themselves, and shunning technological progress. Sometimes this is true, but we can't deceive ourselves into viewing human progress and conservation as conflicting.

I, more than most people I know, am in awe of our technological abilities and the nearly incomprehensible rate with which we advance. The sheer potential of what we could accomplish in the next few decades, let alone the next century, is a blinding orb I squint upon with an almost spiritual reverence.

But there is a difference between utilization of our boundless ability to make our lives better and abuse of the tools we could be using to that end. Immortal personal health and comfort is meaningless on a barren planet.

Alarmist? Alarms serve a purpose. It is not a prank to pull the switch when you gaze upon the flames and feel your lungs fill with smoke.

We are in one of the most high tension epochs in the history of our species, perhaps the highest. We dwell upon the threshold of escape velocity, the point at which we must either explode as we are or ignite into the atmosphere, soaring so high the apes below us appear as insane and primitive ants. We stand to lose nothing short of our existence, and gain no less than offwhite paradise- perhaps not perfect, but enough to pass a Turing test.

I am not just speaking of the Oceans, and I am not just speaking of the Earth. We are at a vital position, and every individual must choose to help or hinder. I would say history will look back upon us and judge us good or bad, but the reality is that isn't an issue because there may very well be no one to look back, and thus even no history.

Little things can help, just as we can be poisoned by quiet complacency. When I was a child, I first wanted to be an artist, then a writer, then a marine biologist. Any of these could directly affect the issues at hand, but I am none of them completely. A person of more fortitude may have been able to tolerate the insanities of our social systems and held onto their core being long enough to become such, and many do every day, but as an independent abstainer I can only limit my contribution of damages and do my best to facilitate the heroes of the coming [r]evolution, should we survive to that point.

This is one of the reasons, in addition to many much more selfish, that I will be abolishing the personal automobile from my daily life, and while I ride along on my bike, tip my helmet to every conscious person I meet.

There is a disease on this Earth that may kill us all. It holds a greasy gape mouthed grin, drives cup holders on wheels, and slurps down words from fatter men who lie for butter. I will not be a part of it.

Poetry:

Lying in clothes with the light on at night is the greatest hobby.

The bug
              flies
around
              the light
as I watch
on my back
on my bed.
he
              circles
in
              spirals
toward
              the light
in crazy
              orbits
like a firework
that never
              explodes.
Sillysad
              bug
doesn't understand
you can't steer
by a light
so close
or even
              that
it's an artificial light.
He doesn't know
what light is.
I start
to feel dizzy
the room circles
and I think
I'm looking down at
              me
circling that damn light.
Sillysad bug.
I think you'll never learn.