The captain of this vessel is crazy. (But are you sure the crazy one's the captain?)
Fine. This one operates by the rules that define his reality. He follows the codes of conduct. He has no personal connection to the codes but they are time tested and have served others well. He does, for the most part, what is expected out of him. Most importantly, he keeps the vessel floating, for lately, the other(s) on board have been displaying self destructive tendencies.
He is dull but he is rational. He is silent. He keeps things afloat.
The captain of this vessel is mad. (You are certain the mad one's the captain?)
We are lost! We're going in circles! The directions they gave us are leading us astray! This one complains.
This one has no sense of realistic direction. He is guided solely by bursts of passion. He jumps from one extremity to the other, from seething hatred to wild bouts of exuberance. Yet he has goals, and they are ambitious. Most Importantly, he is the momentum that fuels the vessel, for without it, the vessel would sail aimlessly and make no progress.
Seldom do they work together, and when they do, neither are satisfied with the results.
They are lonely, these captains. They are eager for trade, for news, for company, anything besides the fetid stink of familiarity they hold with each other.
. . . .
This one, with his tools and charts and navigational instruments, always keeps an eye out for other vessels. In his travels he has caught sight of many but rarely do they interact. In the rare event that interaction occurs he makes an effort to maintain neutrality, speaking only when spoken to, never going off topic. He takes special care to keep the other captain aboard from intruding, for past instances with him involved brought about much ridicule and embarrassment.
Not many sail the same direction as he. Not many can deal with a vessel headed by two captains. This one feels if he were to subdue the other(s) onboard, he would have some kind of chance. But for now he is meek and cautious, fearful that the vessel will lose momentum, fearful of just how powerful the other and his minions may be.
. . . .
This one, fed up with other's debilitating desire for outside contact, no longer cares for news of these other vessels. From experience, he feels, nay, knows the outsiders are crude, vulgar, selfish, and controlling. And so from his mind, he created his own manner of company. He has shaped and refined them over time so that they are pleasing to his thoughts and pleasant to his eyes.
He realizes in a sense he is only stimulating himself with his creations and that once his well of ideas and experiences dries out, he will likely grow bored with them. He lets the other continue with his futile attempts, partly for his own amusement and partly to see what would happen if the other were to succeed.
Those crushes that formulate without so much a single word uttered.
Where eye contact is made along with the accompanying warm smile but not so much the briefest of interactions. (In this case, an exchange of sneezes and bless yous.)
Where I know and I wonder if she knows that maybejustmaybe something amazing could happen.
The last time it happened, I was in an airport in a different country.
Those crushes happen maybe once every three years. And since this one took place in a coffeeshop, practically on my doorstep, the sting of loss is ever sharper, ever closer, the moment, more incongruous. With my evergrowing contempt for society, these things just get rarer by the day.
Maybe in another three years I'll ask her just what she was knitting.
For now, more brooding, a sketch for the sake of memory and a way to integrate what I liked about her into yet another imaginary character.
in·gra·ti·ate (ĭn-grā'shē-āt') tr.v. in·gra·ti·at·ed, in·gra·ti·at·ing, in·gra·ti·ates To bring (oneself, for example) into the favor or good graces of another, especially by deliberate effort: She quickly sought to ingratiate herself with the new administration.
I win.
07:31pm 20/11/2007
Umm... for those people who work or have worked on comics. What are the page dimensions you work in? When designing the layout for a page, do you design your compositions based on the page, the story, the individual panels? I fail at all this technical stuff and any pointers you can offer would be appreciated. Thanks in advance.
Happiness..or rather satisfaction is too specific. Disappointment, too general.
Ours is the age of constant improvement. Always going for the the latest trends, fashions and technologies. Why don't you update? Why don't you follow the times?
There no longer exists any sense of appreciation for the things we have. Why use it, why place sentimental value on anything when a better, faster, stronger model will inevitably come out sometime in the near future? We notice only flaws upon which to improve upon the next time around. It has gotten to the point where nothing has meaning. It applies not only to material objects but every aspect of living. Artwork, relationships, day to day trivialities. My lines too loose, my computer too slow, my personality too irratic, my experience too limited.
The next girl could be less of a bitch, the next class could be more interesting. Penises could be bigger, cars could be faster, graphics more vivid, killing more efficient.
humongous art update coming...sometime this week....hopefully in the meantime, have a random pchat dibble dabble. lyla (folly) before she goes through her godslayer phase
Its been a while since I've done something like this.
Four terms in and I think it's safe to say I hate this place. Maybe I'm simply not cut out to be a student. More likely is that the whole well rounded university curriculum deal isn't the thing for me. Someone please explain to me why out of the twenty-five or so classes Art Center has assigned me, about five or so have been useful? Your instructors are very talented at letting us know we suck. And department chair, how "brilliant" you must feel , splitting up the illustration majors into five neat little tracks. I'm sure our uncertain little minds will feel greatly reprieved once you tell us our place in the grand scheme of the artworld. Nevermind that you keep tweaking and retweaking the program every term. We're happy to pay fourteen grand a term to be your guinea pigs. I mean, shit, you're the 'World famous' art center. I'm sure your rigorous programming will make us into the responsible well-rounded design-conscious virtuosos we all want to be and you just looove to promote. To hell with your name! You crazy elitists. You showcase your 'success stories' and hide your 'failures' under the sheets. If I were to leave you and somehow make a name for myself, you'll just go, 'Ah, that guy got his skills from us!' If I were to get a degree from you and I get stuck with some shitty office design job, well at least I have your prestigious name to put on my resume.
The point being, I could care less who you are. I came to you drawn to your name instead of actually paying attention to what you're about. I Know you have things to teach me. I have progressed enough during the past two years to prove that. I also Know that there's much I have to learn still. But honestly, I could care less about font manipulation, adobe illustrator, final cut pro and how to use a laser cutter. Modernism was interesting but more so to me as the topic of a high conversation than an academic subject. Getting your research right is nice to know but not enough to devote an entire fourteen week class to it. I have no interest in being capable of everything. Don't make me into a renaissance man. All you've taught me is how to bullshit more than anything else. And if that's your way of saying the world runs on bullshit, thank you for reiterating what I'm already aware of. Life is chock full of compromises but with that in mind, I still plan to go as far as I can. I'm the most selfish, egotistical fucker I know but at least I know what I like to do and I'm sticking with it. Even if I fail miserably, at least in the end I've reserved the pleasure of saying "LOL. well. fuck you too."
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
azn_incognito's journal
