Cranky this morning. Little sleep and little accomplished to show for it. Ordered new computer in futile attempt to save me from this machine's taunting ways. Doesn't arrive till next week and will have to put off a few tasks till then.
Never a good idea to spring straight from bed to work. Will now attempt to gave day its proper start: shower, shave, breakfast, coffee, proper clothes (underwear and t-shirt at the moment), and then back to dialoguing this thing.
Inks on current chapter finally complete, but it is not yet time to celebrate as there is still scanning, lettering, the addition of tones, and even color on a number of pages ahead of me. Battling cold for a couple days now with the aid of ramen, Irish coffee, and phenylephrine.
Youtube's algorithms decided to stream the Depp/Heard trial for my background listening, which has provided for some rather unexpected entertainment. The way each party attempts to portray themself as a saintly angel with the other being the monster is of course expected, but quite fascinating when the cross exams come into play and reveal otherwise. The entire fiasco is spawning a bajillion other biased “opinion clips” siding with one or the other, but watching the trial in its entirety rather than just the “highlights” reveals that both are quite terrible but Depp in particular is clearly very ill and quite possibly borderline psychotic. Genuinely flabbergasted by the strategy employed by him and his
lawyers thus far, because all I'm seeing is a man digging deeper into what will inevitably become his own grave.
Attempting to get any work done today proving to be futile. Will instead read and think and laze around and swallow more meds in hopes of complete rejuvenation come tomorrow.
Whenever a particular architectural feature catches my fancy, I make note of it, just in case I'd like to put it to use if ever in a situation to build my own abode (which likely means the thing will end up looking like an eclectic nightmare). In this particular case, it is the glass brick floor sections in a single screenshot from a new Gerard Depardieu film that Warren Ellis made note of on his blog for completely other reasons.
I run the image through my Rollo Wireless, a thermal label printer (I typically use for shipping labels) which automagically gives it the kind of stark black and white treatment I wish my drawing looked like, and stick it in my journal (no glue necessary, the label is already a sticker).
Inbox and feed-catcher both at zero. A cool breeze gently huffs through the office window on this bright sunny morning and a red jay announces its arrival at the birdfeeder outside. On the docket today are two TSG pages worth of inking, a couple emails, and beet kofta to cook later in the afternoon. Must also remember to step away for a little exercise in addition to a quick stop by my chiropractor, who is a short 10 minute bike ride away.
Already at the drawing table with cappuccino in hand and generic “coffee & jazz” instrumentals playing the background. It's that kinda day.
Since posting about my “journaling” practice (it's not actually journaling, not in the traditional sense), many have wrote to tell me how they'd love to take a peek through some of my journals (sick voyeurs). I am but here to please; here's a look at my journal from November 2017 to 2019:
Rome, September last year if I recall. Laura Mega conceived and curated this project in collaboration with Maurita Cardone and Chiara Mannarino. They called it DREAMERS and it included the work of over 40 artists in projections set up at multiple locations around the world.
Only now just got around to uploading a couple pics to Ganzeer.com, because I've been graphic-noveling and thus braincells are switching off too many too soon.
“Sabul had ceased to be a functioning physicist years ago; his high reputation was built on expropriations from other minds. Shevek was to do the thinking, and Sabul would take the credit.”
And then later:
“Shevek's career, like the existence of his society, depended on the continuance of a fundamental unadmitted profit contract.”
There's a high concept nugget of a story there. An analogy for the rebellious independence of a small nation state from the tentacles of colonialism told through the microcosm of a post-graduate “rebellion” within a university setting.
Le Guin's story isn't that, but that would be a story worth telling, as it is my understanding that much of how universities operate is in need of complete reimagining.
I wouldn't be the one to tell it though. This would require the expertise of someone neck deep in university life and that ain't me.
After a few days of thick impenetrable air, the skies have finally opened up this morning and the sun shines through. Though I am inside with two TSG pages worth of inks on the docket for today.
I am however resolved to step outside with a book at some point, and maybe even fit in some exercise and a visit to my chiropractor (it's been a couple weeks, not cool).
I need to get into the habit of treating my day the way I would a physical space. Like say, a closet or piece of luggage. It has a very particular capacity. Stuff it too much, and it just won't work.
Mystery Spring Packs packed and out to the post office. It is just after 4:00pm here, a little dead as a result of starting my day at 7:00am despite ending last “night” at 3:00am.
I've been graphic-noveling.
Prison Chart (a method I only recently picked up from Dave Gibbons' WATCHING THE WATCHMEN) tells me I am 7 pages away from wrapping up inks on this chapter.
But then there's scanning, lettering, and even coloring in some parts.
But after that I will only be 3 chapters away from finishing THE SOLAR GRID for good.
