3:30am and I am in the process of making bread for the first time in my life for no good reason. An activity I'm sure I will regret having pursued instead of sleep, when my child awakens in three hours.
Finished one of the TSG covers and newsletter went out a couple hours ago.
Paul McAuley: “Staying alert to the happening world helps rather more, I guess, than trying to follow trends and fashions in fiction that aren’t a good fit for what you are interested in. Drawing on the here and now, which is crammed with the weird and wonderful, and changes driven by science and technology, rather than reworking previous instances of science fiction.”
This is why the best artists in any field are always going to be the ones exposed to things outside of their field. Filmmakers who only watch films aren't as interesting as those who also read fiction. Comix-makers who only read comicbooks aren't as great as those who read history or frequent art galleries. Musicians who only listen to music aren't as interesting as those who survey the news. Fashion designers who only look at fashion designers aren't as interesting as those who backpack around the world.
#journal
Post office run earlier today. Wise choice because presently a violent thunderstorm roars overhead. Assembling TSG08/#9 right now. Will break for cooking and exercise before starting on cover pencils. Very much behind on all the things this week due to Hurricane Beryl. Won't get to newsletter-drafting before tomorrow which is cutting it way too close.
Inbox 5, RSS 44.
#journal #work
There was a time many years ago when I spent about a week in a small oasis town in Egypt's west desert. It was probably spring and way too hot to be there that time of year, but I recall the locals had a smart way of going about it: they had switched their schedules: sleeping during the day, rendering the place very much a ghost town during those hours, only to emerge in the evening, and that's when the place became bustling with all manner of activity.
As a morning person, this was at odds with my typical circadian rhythms but very much made sense given the circumstances.
It strikes me as very odd that places like Houston don't enact similar schedule changes given the unbearable summer heat. But then again, nothing in Houston is the result of a culture that slow-cooked and simmered over hundreds or thousands of years. It is colonized in every sense of the word; outside ways of being, building, planting, and existing forced upon the landscape. This is one of Western civilization's greatest evils, an insistence on subjugating the natural world rather than working with it, even worse that it is done in a one-size fits all approach. We should know by now that such subjugation never truly works, and almost always tends to backfire (the over arching theme of TSG I s'pose). It even makes capitalist sense: Imagine the exorbitant energy bills that would be drastically cut in all those air-conditioned glass-case office buildings that wouldn't have the beating rays of that high-noon sun to contend with.
Wardrobe change enacted: sandals, cotton tank tops, linen pants and shorts, the occasional loose-fit shirt, and big hats. I've never been much of a hat person (or sandals person for that matter), but you do what you gotta do to cope with a scorched Earth.
None of the measures mentioned above have been enough. I may have to also enact a drastic haircut.
#journal
Despite busting my hand in the process of moving all my patio plants back outside (storm passed over, all is fine), I decided to start the process of installing my newly purchased blackout curtains (do not be fooled by the white color) because temperatures are soaring again. This also involved installing curtain rods, the chosen style of which is a 2-person job. Another downside of this particular style of curtain rod is that apparently the only way to remove the curtains is by completely de-installing the rods themselves, firmly bolted into the walls. Which basically means these curtains will never be washed. Oops.
Look at how beautiful those curtains look though.
In all actuality, the nitpicker in me really wishes the curtains were properly ironed and just a tad shorter.
#journal
Brought all patio plants and furniture inside after receiving four tropical storm warning alerts in less than 24 hours. Winds are expected to pick up to something like 70mph.
This has resulted in furry house guest obtaining a new favorite laying spot, which also doubles as a stealthy hiding spot, from where she likes to pounce on what she assumes are unsuspecting victims. I refrain from telling her that her stark black and white coat is too much of a giveaway from as far as the eye can see.
#journal
Just read Paul J. McAuley's GENE WARS in THE BIG BOOK OF CYBERPUNK and fell in love. I am however ashamed to admit that this is the first of McAuley I've read. The story is pretty out there, but certainly much less out there than the time it was written (1991). Which leads me to believe that Paul J. McAuley possesses a mind of incredible foresight. To determine this from just one story may seem ridiculous, but you have to read it and then you will understand! He is clearly concerned with ideas far more than over-indulging in the soap operatic turmoil of fictional characters, which is very much my shit.
#reads
Solo month with the child has commenced and I am loving it. All pages for TSG 08 (#9 in the print installments) are inked and scanned. Next week I work on the covers.
Other things to get out of the way next week:
– Adjustments on cover art for another thing (can't even remember the code name I had assigned it prior so will no longer bother).
– Poster design for the next Zine Fest Houston.
– Draft next newsletter.
Other things I'd really like to do but doubt I'll find the time:
– Install blackout curtains (generally never been a fan, but this Houston summer heat is winning the battle against my AC system).
– Pot a couple new plants.
– Update Ganzeer.com.
Can't keep my brain from thinking about life post-TSG. I know that's a big no-no, and I really ought to focus exclusively on the thing sat on my drawing table right now, but I just can't help but think ahead sometimes.
#journal
“While Anglophone publishing is intensely concerned with comparative titles and where a novel fits into the landscape, contemporary Arabic publishing largely is not. As such, there is no fixed terminology used for cli fi (climate fiction) in Arabic—though there is fiction that looks much like cli fi in English.”
— Speculative Climate Futures in Arabic Literature
Personally, I think genre is bullshit and one of Western civilization's most detrimental inventions for culture at large.
#journal #reads #research #press
Warhol's MY HUSTLER cost $500 to make. Its first week at The Filmmaker's Cinematheque in New York brought in $4000 USD. The year was 1966.
It's hard to imagine being able to shoot an indy film today and make a profit after screening it in no more than one movie theatre, for months even let alone a single week.
Where did the world go so wrong.
#journal #reads
Andy Warhol sold one of his largest flower paintings to Isabelle Collin Dufresne (who would eventually adopt the moniker Ultraviolet) for today's equivalent of about $5,000 USD. Hardly comparable to some of the sums fetched by today's top working artists, but here's the thing; his rent for The Factory, the legendary space that was his art studio, production house, and entourage hangout was no more than $150, the equivalent of close to $1,500 today.
For context, the Factory was 5,000 square feet and located in Midtown Manhattan. It was by all accounts beyond dilapidated, but still a massive centrally located space in America's densest city. The best you could hope for for that kind of money today is little more than a closet and chances are it wouldn't even be so centrally located.
Another way to look at this is: The sale of one painting could cover the cost of over 3 months' rent.
#journal #reads