Archive for January 2008
I actually got the radio station wrong. It is 103.9, and here’s the list of all the albums they played nonstop, back to back. I only have a problem with Linkin Park being in the top final ten, but otherwise the list is good and mighty. Many a favorite, and there’s some that I remember buying on cassette and listening to over and over and over (Nirvana’s Nevermind, The Offspring’s Smash, Rancid’s And Out Come the Wolves). Others I still own on CD and cherish them mightily (Beck’s Odelay, Jimmy Eat World’s Bleed American, Weezer’s Blue Album, Rage Against the Machine’s Evil Empire).
I always find it both funny and amazing how powerful music can be. Hearing some of these albums instantly triggered reactions in me. I remembered sneaking drinks from the bottle of rum I hid in my sock drawer while in high school as I danced around my bedroom to Bush’s “Machinehead”. I remembered seeing Live and the Counting Crows with Bitsy in concert, especially at the end when the two bands came out as one to do a special finale song that had them each departing as individuals. I remembered the first time I listened to Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees” and just being stunned by how evocative and new it sounded. I remembered falling in love with Soul Asylum, enough so that I went out and bought every tape they had and even did one final project on them for my English class.
I always find it funny when people say things such as “Oh, I love music!”
Yeah. How couldn’t you?
I wonder what things I’ll remember about the music I’m currently listening to in, oh, I dunno, ten years. Will it be the same, or is nostalgia only meant for the times before one became an adult and had too much to worry about? I can’t really see myself looking back fondly right now. Despite listening to the latest album (double!) from Say Anything.
BONUS PART: Can you name the bands and three songs in the comic? Don’t cheat!
Ah, the Phoenix Zoo. It’s a very nice place, filled with lions that ignore visitors, warthogs that suck up their lunch like vacuums, and tiny monkeys that poop all over the place. Oh, and otters! My favorite animal ever! There were two out that day, a mommy and her daughter who was being taught how to dive into the water properly. How fun! Maybe even the c-word! Here’s the only picture I was able to take of the speedy devils:
So, go ahead and name an animal. I’ll tell you why an otter is one hundred times better…
Don’t worry, people. Regular journal comics are forthcoming. It’s just that I had TWO nice, relaxing weekends in a row and so very little was drawn, but I’m not going to beat myself up over it. For now, I’m trying to get a bunch done at once so that I can be many ahead rather than one or two ahead. Ya know? Good.
Enjoy some sad/bad comics. Make what you will of ’em…
I’ve always liked drawing. My family can attest to this as they watched me draw cartoons and comics from a wee age all the way up until now. We’re not going to count that four-year grace period in college where I hated art and all things art-related. I found it only natural to read comics in the Sunday newspaper or my big collective trade paperbacks from the store (think The Far Side, Foxtrot, Dilbert, those kinds). I then found it even more natural to want to draw my own. And so I did. Meet Lucky Abby…
If you notice a distinct similarity to a certain comic strip by Bill Watterson called Calvin and Hobbes…well, you’re correct for noticing. That one is, and forever shall be, a favorite of mine. Plus, there’s no better way to show respect than through imitation. Calvin had an imaginary talking tiger; Abby had an imaginary talking dragon. Meh. These were drawn in 1998, making me…uhm…fifteen. I did what I could.
One thing I hope you’ll see is that…I DRAW THE SAME WAY NOW. That’s right, people. Stop waiting for me to improve. It ain’t gonna happen! Anyways, Lucky Abby went on like this for a couple more strips, bouncing back and forth from jokes already told by Watterson. In a hissy-fit, I destroyed the remaining ones.
The above comic is actually the one I still like the most to this day. Growing up, I had a best friend that every summer left for Ohio. Things got boring real fast, and I believe I captured that well enough with pictures.
I like snow. It was easy to draw. Kathy is named after my godmother. I sure was creative back then.
Hah, I’m almost embarrassed posting these! They are such ripoffs of the best strip in the world! But I guess if I let everyone know I’m just a hack I can move past this and not have skeletons in me closet. Also, Derron? Derron?!
Then, about three years later, I decided to try Lucky Abby again. This time, I went for a different style and more talky humor:
Ignore the speech bubbles in the last panel. They are completely out of order. The mother character is saying goodbye before Abby’s sister tells her she is leaving. Oi. What a n00b.
This one didn’t last long. Also, Abby’s sister’s name changed from Julie to Rinoa and I have NO IDEA WHY. I might’ve been drunk when I drew that. I got tired of forcing the strip and moved on to other things. But next time I’ll show you how Lucky Abby eventually became a comic strip about a talking duck with aspirations of becoming a world-famous magician. I kid thee not!
So go ahead. Call me a hack!
We’re a raunchy bunch. Please don’t get that confused with ranchy, which is delicious on a salad.
Well, look. Another weekend approaches. FYIF. Plans, people? I’m heading down to see my folks. Tomorrow I’ll be hitting up a comedy show…in a school gymnasium! Huzzah!
Hm, I added a picture to my “about me” section, but it is most certainly not a current shot. It is, in fact, one of my favorite childhood photos. As a kid, getting your picture taken was as simple as being yourself. Rarely did you have to stop playing in your fantasy land to smile and pose for the camera. More often than not, you were already extremely photographable (not a word) no matter what you were doing. When you get older, things change. You have to smile whether you mean to or not, you have to stop moving and stand still so that everything looks rigid and unnatural, you have to stop being you. You can’t just pass out against a 1980s-ish couch without a care in the world. You can’t do that anymore. A shame, really. Luckily, these sort of shots exist to remind us of the more carefree times, the times of Saturday morning cartoons and Saturday afternoon naps and Saturday evening romps in the yard chasing fireflies, the times when you never had to stop, not even if you knew you wanted to…