7.17.2010
7.16.2010
Meadowlarks
A night of slightly strange coincidence. As I stepped out of my side door around 9:30 for a stroll I pressed play on my iPod. Just as the opening strains of Fleet Foxes' Meadowlarks started in my ears I turned to see a lovely crescent moon; there are moments I wish that I had a recording device for my brain; my lame attempt at a muse blog really can't translate this experience to anyone, but I hope I can hint at it. It wasn't particularly spectacular. But it made me smile widely and start off walking at a brisk pace, glancing over my left shoulder at the moon every few moments like I was walking beside a new lover.
I turned when I could to follow the moon west. The air is warm and not as humid as it has been, and the peaceful lamplit streets here are as fine a lone walk in this city as any. Another strange moment: coming along an empty street my mind drifted to recent events in my life; a package containing my credentials has been sent out today by fast flying machine to the other side of the world, there to be received by foreign men who wish me to teach at their school. I am afraid to leave home, and am afraid to do things, so I am grateful that an intervening weekend will allow me a few days of forgetfulness before I am required to set more wheels in motion. As this thought crossed my mind I had that wash of awareness some call deja vu. I experience it fairly often, and always make a note of it. The relief two days brings me was amplified, extended to infinity as it were between two parallel mirrors. I felt certain for a few seconds that I was experiencing what I hesitantly name synchronicity: I don't actually know what synchronicity is, but I felt like all moments in time were that moment, and I almost dared to ask myself what will become of me, where I will be in the end, and more personal, selfish, and specific questions. I didn't quite get the answers I'm afraid. Well, I may have caught a glimpse of them, but it remains to be seen. Anyway, as I reached the end of the block the spell was broken. I was just walking down a street again. I can't say deja vu has ever quite made me feel this way, but I generally do have a large smile plastered on my face, and this case was no exception.
I walked to a local park that once was a test track for an automotive company. As I passed the fence and mounted the track a whiz of wheels and muscle could be sensed approaching. I girl of about my own age or a bit younger was using the track to roller blade. A bit at a loss I stood still waiting for her to pass, having given up on the internal debate of whether I could get across the track before she collided with me. As she passed we smiled at eachother. And all I could really think was "I will never see her again." Life presented me this one chance to collide with a girl on roller blades, and I have passed on it. I wasn't very regretful, don't take that away from this. But it reinforced the notion that everything only ever happens once. And of course, the great mystery is that I may very well meet the girl again. Perhaps nocturnally at a track, or somewhere else. But it will never be this time again.
The demon I wrestle with myself, the hope that I could one day reclaim what I lost so quickly once, never really is put to rest. Which blows. But I don't really want to kill my demon, frankly. And so he bites me, and I strangle him. It is an unhealthy relationship.
I turned when I could to follow the moon west. The air is warm and not as humid as it has been, and the peaceful lamplit streets here are as fine a lone walk in this city as any. Another strange moment: coming along an empty street my mind drifted to recent events in my life; a package containing my credentials has been sent out today by fast flying machine to the other side of the world, there to be received by foreign men who wish me to teach at their school. I am afraid to leave home, and am afraid to do things, so I am grateful that an intervening weekend will allow me a few days of forgetfulness before I am required to set more wheels in motion. As this thought crossed my mind I had that wash of awareness some call deja vu. I experience it fairly often, and always make a note of it. The relief two days brings me was amplified, extended to infinity as it were between two parallel mirrors. I felt certain for a few seconds that I was experiencing what I hesitantly name synchronicity: I don't actually know what synchronicity is, but I felt like all moments in time were that moment, and I almost dared to ask myself what will become of me, where I will be in the end, and more personal, selfish, and specific questions. I didn't quite get the answers I'm afraid. Well, I may have caught a glimpse of them, but it remains to be seen. Anyway, as I reached the end of the block the spell was broken. I was just walking down a street again. I can't say deja vu has ever quite made me feel this way, but I generally do have a large smile plastered on my face, and this case was no exception.
I walked to a local park that once was a test track for an automotive company. As I passed the fence and mounted the track a whiz of wheels and muscle could be sensed approaching. I girl of about my own age or a bit younger was using the track to roller blade. A bit at a loss I stood still waiting for her to pass, having given up on the internal debate of whether I could get across the track before she collided with me. As she passed we smiled at eachother. And all I could really think was "I will never see her again." Life presented me this one chance to collide with a girl on roller blades, and I have passed on it. I wasn't very regretful, don't take that away from this. But it reinforced the notion that everything only ever happens once. And of course, the great mystery is that I may very well meet the girl again. Perhaps nocturnally at a track, or somewhere else. But it will never be this time again.
The demon I wrestle with myself, the hope that I could one day reclaim what I lost so quickly once, never really is put to rest. Which blows. But I don't really want to kill my demon, frankly. And so he bites me, and I strangle him. It is an unhealthy relationship.
7.15.2010
Briggs and Ladders
So here is the title page used for this "webcomic" on Bookface. Briggs and Ladders, a delightful game of chance, featuring Ezekiel's Angel! Sean lazes about with coffee not realizing that he leans upon an oversized titular letter! Isabel Briggs Myers has discovered a ladder! Where does it lead? Perhaps heaven? Or maybe right to where she began. All of these questions and more will be answered in time, possibly.
Binge
So, four days of this now. Ten comics produced; more rattling around in my insides. I thought I would like to produce in bulk at first, so that, should anyone like to read them, they will have a little selection. I personally love to binge-read 20 or 30 webcomics in a sitting. Soon it will come to a point where I really need to try and promote this or something. To quote one of my fav authors "art, like sex, can only be carried on solo for so long."
I made some sort of Bookface group for it now. The pictures actually show up better in that medium presently; I need to learn to manipulate Blogger more cleverly. The comic is now temporarily named "Briggs and Ladders." Snakes and Ladders + Myers-Briggs if you're interested. I wanted to call it INTP, but then I realized that I would be ripping off XKCD soooo hard. If I could do better art than this, then by god, I might do it (if it didn't take too much effort, that is). But this is what the world gets. And I think I will bring a more intuitive insight on the psyche, religion, and things ethereal than XKCD. That comic is brilliant, but very firmly rooted in what I term "dull fantsy pantsy rationalisim," at least on some level. Not that that's all bad, but I think that the extroverted, objective and the rational people only have half of the picture. We all blunder through life in a haze of subjectivity afterall.
I made some sort of Bookface group for it now. The pictures actually show up better in that medium presently; I need to learn to manipulate Blogger more cleverly. The comic is now temporarily named "Briggs and Ladders." Snakes and Ladders + Myers-Briggs if you're interested. I wanted to call it INTP, but then I realized that I would be ripping off XKCD soooo hard. If I could do better art than this, then by god, I might do it (if it didn't take too much effort, that is). But this is what the world gets. And I think I will bring a more intuitive insight on the psyche, religion, and things ethereal than XKCD. That comic is brilliant, but very firmly rooted in what I term "dull fantsy pantsy rationalisim," at least on some level. Not that that's all bad, but I think that the extroverted, objective and the rational people only have half of the picture. We all blunder through life in a haze of subjectivity afterall.
7.14.2010
7.13.2010
7.12.2010
A Blog for All Seasons
Today is a monumentous day for the people of the world. Today is the day that I sort of start a blog. A blog created under the working title of "The Chirp."
If you are reading it, you might be my close friend, or perhaps a bored acquaintance. I hope you aren't my mother. You could be someone random from the world, although at this point that seems unlikely. Maybe you're in love with me, maybe I'm in love with you. That is all beside the point: I know one thing about you. (And it's pretty good, frankly.) You are the sort of person who thinks that it is a worthwhile thing to give up some small portion of your life to the reading of pretentious ramblings on the internet. I don't know why you're doing it, but you are. I've been there too. I dig it. And I'm going to take advantage of it while it lasts.
If you keep reading the words I enter into the "world wide web" by means of small plastic buttons and a series of magical artifacts (like router boxes, tube rooms, power bars, electronic brains, etc.) you can expect to encounter certain things: I will likely complain about some things, but I'll do my best to keep that to a minimum; I just might try to start a series of failed web comics in the "bad art stick figure" style. If I can figure out how to work the magical tools at my disposal I might try and share my, frankly spectacular, musical taste. And who knows. I may "publish" any bad songs, poems, short stories, novella or travel brochures I happen to whip up in my spare time.
My personal goals for this "blog":
-stop overusing quotation marks for emphasis.
-find out what blog means.
-meet a beautiful English girl who will marry me.
-teach someone basic Latin grammar.
post scriptum: the first two statements of this entry are unrelated. Each day is marvelously monumentous. Alliteration.
post post scriptum: it's called The Chirp because for certain reasons I go by the name Seantehcricket on, like, five internet things. My real name is just Sean, and I am not a cricket, or into crickets in a big way. They're not bad.
If you are reading it, you might be my close friend, or perhaps a bored acquaintance. I hope you aren't my mother. You could be someone random from the world, although at this point that seems unlikely. Maybe you're in love with me, maybe I'm in love with you. That is all beside the point: I know one thing about you. (And it's pretty good, frankly.) You are the sort of person who thinks that it is a worthwhile thing to give up some small portion of your life to the reading of pretentious ramblings on the internet. I don't know why you're doing it, but you are. I've been there too. I dig it. And I'm going to take advantage of it while it lasts.
If you keep reading the words I enter into the "world wide web" by means of small plastic buttons and a series of magical artifacts (like router boxes, tube rooms, power bars, electronic brains, etc.) you can expect to encounter certain things: I will likely complain about some things, but I'll do my best to keep that to a minimum; I just might try to start a series of failed web comics in the "bad art stick figure" style. If I can figure out how to work the magical tools at my disposal I might try and share my, frankly spectacular, musical taste. And who knows. I may "publish" any bad songs, poems, short stories, novella or travel brochures I happen to whip up in my spare time.
My personal goals for this "blog":
-stop overusing quotation marks for emphasis.
-find out what blog means.
-meet a beautiful English girl who will marry me.
-teach someone basic Latin grammar.
post scriptum: the first two statements of this entry are unrelated. Each day is marvelously monumentous. Alliteration.
post post scriptum: it's called The Chirp because for certain reasons I go by the name Seantehcricket on, like, five internet things. My real name is just Sean, and I am not a cricket, or into crickets in a big way. They're not bad.
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