It’s cold tonight. Not just a little chill, but a deep kind of cold that’s made its way into my bones. The joints all feel heavy and frozen like needing to crack my knuckles without the catharsis of a pop.
There’s not much out there tonight it seems. Despite drinking the heavier half of a coffee pot; sleep invades. Acquiescence nears, and I dream of warmth.
Soundtrack:
That’s pretty much self explanatory. Making Web pages is very difficult if you want them to look good but have zero Web coding or graphic design skills. This is why places like Wix and Tumblr are popular launching grounds. This is why there are many, many templates and platforms for websites.
See my other fun titles, like:
and
/rant
I’ve been listening to Strange Days and eating leftover pizza while waiting for the coffee to finish. I decided for a while to plug in to the Internet and catch up on some friend’s blogs, Twitter, etc. I realize that I haven’t sat down and put my thoughts into paragraph form in a while, and I think maybe I just don’t have the energy for anecdotes or witticisms more than 140 characters. My daily Internet usage has been whittled down to Twitter, Instagram, web comics, work stuff and whatever I decide I need to look up at any given moment. I suppose it makes sense then that my contributions to the Internet have been Tweets, Instagrams and a new endeavor in cartooning.
Snail Sez started as a sticker idea Ugis showed me that quickly turned into an instant gratification cartoon about a week ago. I’ve been thinking about cartooning a lot, but with my ability to only draw Hitler and cocks, I felt it was best to work on something mostly digital. The snail’s empty word bubble was so you could write whatever you wanted on a sticker and put it somewhere. So we dumped some funny, witty, angry or confusing thoughts into his bubble and threw up a Tumblr. In a few hours we have a thing that will update itself daily around midnight-thirty.
It’s the first in what I hope will be a few more comic strips from our dynamic duo. He is working on some art for a little comic I’m putting together that may or may not work. I already had quite a bit of respect for people like Bill Watterson, but I am really in awe of Calvin and Hobbes while trying to figure out the most effective way to write for a short 3-strip cartoon. It’s amazing how much character and wit he was able to consistently add to those three panels.
Anyway, I’ve also been working out thoughts on web design and a way to aggregate all of the one-off or weird projects that Ugis and I get up to and also archive our old work. I think we’re content to use Ulterior Porpoises as the moniker, and you can see my crappy beta button thrashing at UlteriorPorpoises.com which is still very much a work in progress. Only the home page is up because I can’t settle on a theme and have a habit of making things worse while trying to accomplish a specific thing.
Thanks to Warren Ellis via Twitter, I know that the Russians lost control of a gecko-sex satellite and then regained control about twenty minutes after I found out. Jim Morrison’s voice fits nicely over the Sunday palette, and in the middle of it all I can only think of one thing:
Mental Note: NEED TO KEEP WORKING ON THIS!
Sketch art and characters are from my bittery dick of a pal at http://ugisart.com/. He also has these really funny comics for sale at http://futurelandfillpress.bigcartel.com
VII – Patientia
While the Curia Nocte sit gathered at the Apostolic See of St. Simon, Mother Death is escorted by Lord Hat through the catacombs to the chamber. Lord Hat has slowed his pace to match her frail speed. Neither the shadow man nor the Mother require a torch, and instead make their way through the darkness in near silence. It’s rare that the Curia requests her formal presence at their chamber, and the messenger was very vague about the purpose of their meeting. Whispers of the pope’s illness had already reached them, but it was clear the Camerlengo was concealing the true nature of events. Lord Hat was the first to step from the shadows and appear before the council. In the dim torchlight, he was nothing but the silhouette of a form as he addressed the Curia Nocte.
“Presenting Mother Death.”
She moved slowly into the light, first appearing as nothing but rags and shadows like her Lord escort. As the light filled under her shroud, the cracks and crevices of her exposed skull could be seen. Her hands withered down to the bone and grit of cartilage like the rest of her shrunken figure, but much larger than the rest of her frame. The deep sockets that used to hold eyes and nose stayed a shadowy void as if the light dared not enter. Her jaw remained, but had stretched unnaturally wide filled in with the rotting ivory stubbs of what were once full teeth. To the few cardinals among them seeing her for the first time, the shivering feel of decay seemed to emanate from those dark gaps staring forward at them like the void of death itself.
Mental Note: NEED TO KEEP WORKING ON THIS!
Sketch art and characters are from my bittery dick of a pal at http://ugisart.com/. He also has these really funny comics for sale at http://futurelandfillpress.bigcartel.com
Inside a small upper suite in a run-down office park between a fortune teller and crooked account, lies the hideout of the Revengirls. The Revengirls are a team of world-traveling assassins including Stubbi, the rambunctious young dual-amputee with her long-barrel Colt .45; the human tank, Third Eye, with deadly blades extending from her arms stronger than steel beams; and their leader N-Brace whose body enhancements turn her into a living tripod for a full-size minigun. By day they bide their time as providers of irregular medical aides for the disabled and disfigured. By night this deadly trio descends on the targets of those willing to pay for their services. The only force great enough to rival their sheer power is the spirit of revenge that binds them together – revenge on the one man who crippled each of them.
Adam is speeding down interstate 114 in his two-tone Dodge Dart, and his shoulder is killing him. The car’s powder-blue paintjob gives way a little more to the encroaching rust every year. The hood and roof look like a copper penny shoved through the center of a robin’s egg as it shakes it’s way down the road. The sun is setting, and he can barely make out the Lakeview exit for the glare. His normally slick and slightly curled hair is matte and dirty with the same dried blood covering his cheek and neck. His bed-head hairstyle is much more literal, resting on his face like James Dean wearing a mophead as a hat. His eyes are burning sapphire on the road as he snorts, taps the brake and forces the wheel to the right with his lip curling from the pain of the gunshot wound. As he squints to check for traffic, he sees Jenny’s ring on a chain around the mirror. He wishes he’d never gotten her involved in all this again, and he hopes he can get her out this time. His right foot hits the floor, and pain be damned, he spins out around the corner racing down the street.
Miss Mara,
I’m running the air conditioning today, but I hope the lizards in the desert don’t freeze in that snow. I don’t understand what sort of witchcraft could make it snow in lizard land, but I hope the little guys are safe is all. If there’s a vending machine anywhere, you can always resort to Combos and M&Ms. There are definitely worse ways to be stranded in the desert. Maybe you can find some shivering lizards and offer them combos and shelter in exchange for their lizardy wisdom.
“To new beginnings?”
“To new beginnings,” she said.
I wasn’t sure when we spoke the words, and now the weight of that unknowing is the ballast in my gut.
It’s Not for Me – Coming Soon
My partner in crime at http://ugisart.com/ painted this as the cover to a collection of stories. That collection is called An Inhuman Condition. The upcoming story It’s Not for Me is the last one I can write for it. After that I’m trying on some new clothes, getting a shave and really dolling up for the next bit. I need to get past this and move forward. I have to move forward.
To new beginnings.
In the hopes that I continue working on this soon, I’m posting a raw section of Synod Horrenda. Sketch art and characters are from my bittery dick of a pal at http://ugisart.com/. He also has these really funny comics for sale at http://futurelandfillpress.bigcartel.com
II – Fidgit
“Life is messy and people stink. Like diarrhea stains on the grundle of the world, we’re all just waiting to be wiped out. I think that’s why the end of days is such a popular trope. It’s comforting to think that all the pain, struggle and obligations will burn away, but I’m not so sure. I’ve dipped my dick in death, and for whatever reason I’m still here. I’m a walking example of all the ways a person shouldn’t act, and despite everything I’ve done, the sleep won’t come. I can’t help but laugh whenever I hear about tragedy: a happy family killed by a drunk driver, a fitness instructor getting an embolism at 45. And for all the suffering in the world, miserable cocks like us are free to run around unfettered sticking needles into our arms and our pricks into anything that wiggles and won’t say ‘no.’”
Fidgit moves his jacket aside and sticks the needle between a couple dirty bandages rust stained with dried blood. Wrapped around his chest and next to his heart, his ‘skin’ is a decomposing mess. The dirty wrappings covering his body contain the decay. The few cracks in the coverings let his spiked hair, rotting jaw and a single strained eye socket poke through. He squeezes the plunger and, for a few moments, finds a hypodermic heaven.
“And if you don’t like me, that’s fine, but you’d be blind to think we’re any different. If you even have eyes, I guess.” Read the rest of this entry »
The website is back and mostly working as it was in days past. If you end up at a non-existent WordPress.com site, just add “www.” to the front of the URL. I’m hoping it goes away after the Internet shifts for cleaning.
I have solved the hosting issue, and hope now to finally get on with The Important Work.
