Letters to Holly

Friday, March 13

Wow.

Ignore anything I might say and just watch this. This is incredible stuff.



Really Cool, New Sixth-Sense Technology

Thursday, March 12

New Work

The new one-page is now officially thumbnailed. I typed out my script at work with simple panel suggestions and then quickly sketched those at work. I measured out a miniature page layout at home played with panel details before going to bed. I woke up this morning, streamlined the designs, and drew the thumbnails on the miniature page layout. I can move to the full-page art today by drawing the panel grid. I'm already compiling my noir reference comics, including Sin City.

Your Sis was crashing hard last night, and the least little stimulus had her barking with cranky sleepiness. I think I might run tonight unless it gets really, really cold. Which it might.

We're sending spooky mind energy to you for the exams.

Oh, yeah. I somehow managed to pop my thumb out again and had to do the double-joint fix as I lay in bed. I worry that I now have a gimpy thumb. I don't know how it happened this time either. I'm not hanging off cliffs or thumb wrestling bears.

Picture of the Day
The inevitable sequel. I loved watching Welcome Back, Kotter on WGN, but it was always pre-empted by baseball.

Wednesday, March 11

Disarming

When we visited Mom Saturday, she told us she was going practice shooting with a neighbor. She took my uncle's gun after he died. She may have shot a gun once before. She said she was told that ammo is so hard to come by because people are stocking up in preparation of a suspected gun ban from Obama. I've heard this stockpiling story since November when he won the election. It's a common rumor; the same fear emerged after Clinton was elected. The local gun stores are running newspaper ads offering to buy guns, much like the ubiquitous TV ads offering market value for gold jewelry. I tried to tell Mom the whole thing is hooey cooked up by gun dealers and radio hosts. She again mentioned the dearth of ammo. I reminded her we're fighting two wars. Our supply is going elsewhere.

Since then, we've heard of Sunday's church shooting in Illinois, yesterday's Alabama shooting spree, and today's German school shooting. I appreciate the second amendment for basic gun rights. Hunters need guns. People protecting their homes need guns. No one needs an automatic rifle. No one needs more than two guns (one upstairs, one downstairs for robberies; an optional handgun when hunting). Of course, nothing can stop a determined crazy person. But we can make it harder for them to rack up a body count when they snap. Maybe the recent news can emphasize a need to reform gun control.

I admit, I've thought of owning a gun recently. I live in exactly the kind of small town that encourages the "gun culture" -- a loaded term I admit -- and, every single day, I fear a shooting spree at her school. I also find myself living next to a highway patrolmen, and I think this will discourage robbers. Your Sister can always throw a cat at a burglar, and the claws will ruin him if the ungodly feline weight doesn't crush his brain bones.

Your Sis made a blonde chili for din-din, and it was good. I didn't grow up a chili fan. More specifically, I was raised on canned chili, which is really ground meat in grease. This was much nicer. I also ran for the second time in three days in this perfect weather.

My next art project will be a one-page noir story. It started as a shared joke with the missus, and I wrote the script in the shower. I knew installing the typewriter there would come in handy.

Picture of the Day
Best blanket ever.

Tuesday, March 10

Kill Your Clocks

I hope the change to standard time hasn't hobbled your studies. Seems like horrible planning for the school to give exams the same week of the time shift, as does pissing off tired young people who now have access to scalpels. Your Sister's school also gives a Very Important Test this week, and now the already terrified tenth graders are fog-headed. I can't tell if springing forward has altered my headspace or if I'm still groggy from the midnight movie. I'm old. It's possible.

The warm weather -- which ends this weekend -- has prematurely activated my spring-sense. I want to run and garden. I open up my workshop blinds and draw in sunlight. I enjoy seeing sunlight at 8 p.m. But I am primordial when the alarm clock yells at me.

Sketch of the Day
Another picture from the workshop wall. This is a Incredibles costume. Elastigirl.

Monday, March 9

She Watches the Watchmen

Friday was not a blur of sleepy spasm as I feared. Your Sis met me in town to see a Celtic Concert, and I realized there was no way I could nod off during it when I noticed our tickets were for third-row seats. We left midway through, however, when Your Sis noticed that there was none of the dancing advertised months before.

We drove down to see Mom Saturday and spoil her for her birthday. I took eclairs, and Your Sis took flowers. Mom requested a lunch at a new Greek-Italian restaurant, and I indulged my love for gyros. My LOVE for gyros. We then took her to the mall for shoe shopping. We crawled under the house to fix her furnace filter, and I discovered it's a job I should do alone from now on. Mom doesn't need to crawl under the house for anything. We did get to wear haz-mat suits, and that was fun. Mom handed me a box of school yearbooks and photo albums of my first wedding. I suppose she's revised history so that never happened, and that's fine. The boxes and all inside them smell like cigarettes, and they are currently airing out in the garage.

As we drove back into Hendersonville, Your Sis noted that we were driving past the movie theatre and suggested we see Watchmen. Right now. We pulled into the parking lot and saw the movie was starting in five minutes. We ran in, bought tickets, ignored the food stands, and took in the movie. She loved it. She read the comic about five years ago and remembered a little about what went in there. But the film has its own story to tell and she liked it. She wants to see it again very soon.

The second viewing only made me like the film more, becuase I could divorce it from the comic. It has a different punchline because the details of the conspiracy change, but do so in a digestible way. The comic has such a detached, formal tone that the movie's energy is wildly distinct. I don't agree with all the changes made, but I understand them. I want the directors-cut DVD right now to see what was trimmed for time constraints. I suspect a lot was. There's a continuity gaffe in the last half hour of the film because of such edits, but it's not a horrible mistake. Just a head scratcher.

The movie is able to build on certain themes and especially the conceit of the 1985 setting. There are celebrity cameos and cultural markers the comic eschewed, and the movie seems to use an '80s-style score similar to that of Blade Runner.

The consensus online seems to be that it succeeds as a film but not so much as an adaptation. I agree. But then, again, this film could easily be four hours long if it was more faithful to the comic. It certainly gives V for Vendetta a run for its money as the best Alan Moore adaptation. The opening-credit sequence alone is worth the ticket price. Be warned: It's a hard R. Blood and body parts abound. Not that the rating stopped the dumbfuck parents who brought small children to see this.

On Sunday, I solved a puzzle that was a few weeks old. I hurt my thumb when my ergonomic office chair tipped over, and I thought I had sprained it. I iced it once to lessen the swelling, but a shock of pain erupted randomly. I couldn't find a pattern to it. I could still use my thumb, but any common activity would surprise me with pain. Just this weekend, I noticed that I no longer could make the joint jerk. My thumbs are double jointed, and I can "pop" them backward but not with my right injured thumb. I made it work again, and in doing so, made the pain go away. Your Sis thinks I slightly dislocated my thumb and then fixed it.

Sketch of the Day
A quick Comedian sketch made for a message board. The character damn near steals the movie.