a bullshit thing my hair does to torment me, and my argument for a society of brains in jars.
has made stickers
from my very own prints
CUSTOM REMIXED
thankyouthankyouthankyou!
thank you for your kind submission, mapclub. you made me feel like i was IN mapclub.
the best thing about the previously posted portrait is that it was for a party with a decade theme i’ll let you guess. my “real” period dress was on underneath my accidentally consort-matching clothes, and consisted of docs and striped stockings and an army of darkness shirt and a ton of eyeliner. this became exceptionally funny when i found myself totally lost, the only person on a bus in the middle of the night, with a non-english speaking bus driver trying to extract from me where the hell i thought i was going. not thinking, i just told him the next intersection on the walking directions i’d written myself. he said a whole bunch of stuff i didn’t understand but finally made it clear that if i just got out at the next stop, i’d be close enough. so i finally got off the bus at midnight, and then just about lost it when i reached the intersection i’d told him and realized that i’d asked him to take me straight to the graveyard.
Went down to the water this weekend. (Taken with instagram)
I wonder what happens if you tilt-shift me.
earlier somebody asked me about mocca and i said it was a little like just being in a mall — which was a somewhat nicer version of my actual not-very-nice feeling, that for an indie- and diy-centric event it always seems startlingly homogeneous. i think the fest’s domination by artists who clearly have a formation education in animation (or similar) means you are looking at work from a lot of people who have, subconsciously or otherwise, already adopted the house style of a major familiar studio. this year i thought, jesus, it’s like being in a room with 200 kids who all grew up exclusively on nickelodeon’s Doug.
my apology for this sentiment comes in the form of my endorsement of rich tommaso’s perfectly lovely Pete and Miriam. this graphic novel, collecting a series of episodes in the lives of two best buddies, could be easily mistaken for a foreign edition of icehaven, or it’s a good life if you don’t weaken if seth gave a shit about the 70s, or late vintage brunetti, or any number of other totally familiar standards. still and all, it’s totally serviceable and anybody oughta have a good time reading it. maybe some review panels later.
