Gibberings
Dad told me never to use XTREE when he wasn’t in the room.
August 19, 2008 ~ 10:41:59 PM * -07:00ST
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Log # 444
Memories of Spleen
A long conversation, in the mode of self-pity, with J. Goldberg outside the Nucleus Gallery, out in the LA balm. Inspired by the stylistically carefree artists on the walls inside, we rumbled over familiar turf: generalized self-doubt; the tug-of-war between pushing ourselves to develop new ideas, vs. the necessity of retaining some kind of “voice” from piece to piece; having too many ideas; having too few; feeling left behind or, worse, as if we have missed our chance entirely. We growled at the pop-art darlings’ beautiful hardcover books. “I wish I could draw the same thing over and over again without being tortured with boredom. I’d be in Juxtapose, too.”
It’s the same old nonsense, really. We all feel so goddamned lonely, so precious and special in our arty little hamster balls. Bonking into each other and rolling around in soiled wood shavings like idiots. FOLKS IF I COULD JUST DIRECT YOUR ATTENTION TO MY GIGANTIC UNFINISHED PAINTING FOR A MOMENT (TORTURED GENIUS OVER HERE). Do I really need to keep picking up and gessoing-over all those discarded Berkeley canvasses? And then when something is done, really done, like a Bachelor’s or a commission or even a personal work, the feeling is less triumphant than it is terrifying: what next? Jesus god, that took eight thousand times longer than it should have, the client probably doesn’t even want it anymore, where is my tea I just set it down five seconds ago, is this tea from yesterday or is it just cold and sloppy, I can’t remember if I got paid for all those book illustrations I finished last year, I wonder if I pretend to have worms if I can take my sketchbook into the bathroom for a couple hours a day while I’m at work, oh fuck where is my to-do list, did I even make one, fuck fuck fuck something comes after this and I’m just not sure if it’s worth the time/trouble/miniscule amount of money they’re offering.
I try to remember a time when I felt triumphant, or even “good”, finishing something. I wonder how I managed to almost completely destroy my ability, and motivation, to write for pleasure, just in the what, year and a half? that I worked for Kotaku, Wired, et al. It’s unbelievable.
But I am here, that is to say, away. Out in space, out visiting, where the insects are plentiful and the views aren’t so ordinary yet. Tomorrow evening will be the journey “home” (as much as I can claim to have such a thing.)
I leave you on a dangle. Imagine the sound of a record being ripped off the table.
by
Eliza Gauger on August 17th, 2008 ~ 05:04:05 AM
Slotted into Artwork, Berkeley, Comics, Demons, Depressing, Hate, Writing |
No Comments »
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Log # 266
Gentlemen?
The urge to write–formerly so all-powerful that I left a trail of scribblings along walls and pavement as I shuffled about my daily tasks, exactly as vermin leave fecal morse code wherever they tread–has all but abandoned me. I am absent from Destructoid, these blogs, and a mere gaseous afterimage of my former greatness on Ectomo.
I haven’t read my RSS feeds in many, many months. I’ve spent hours today, skimming your lives for salient factoids, attempting to update my near-static concept of Other Humans. It might be working. I’m really not sure.
The good news is that I have completed my opus. See below.
Ink on Post-It. 3 x 3″
by
Eliza Gauger on December 9th, 2007 ~ 09:00:51 PM
Slotted into Artwork, Depressing, Writing, Zombies |
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Log # 168
Accounting for the Dead and Wounded
Currently toiling away in the following salt mines:
- Destructoid, a gaming news blog, has hired me and Florian Eckhardt/John Brownlee as a package deal, and we have already begun smearing our stilted nonsense all over their face. Many thanks to Gay Gamer and others for the warm welcomes. We really missed you.
- The two of us will be attending Tokyo Game Show in late September, also on behalf of the ‘Toid. Don’t worry, they’re sending real journalists, too. As far as Flor and I can tell, we’re being dragged along for the questionable purposes of consuming as much Hello Panda (me) and Kirin (Eckhardt) as possible, thus ensuring a sugar- and booze-fueled staccato diatribe to break up those yawn-inspiring “LIVEBLOGGING THE TOKYO GAME SHOW!!11″ posts that will stream down the gaming feeds during the conference. The working title of our adventures will be “Fear and Lost in Translation”.
- It’s good to be back in the gaming game, I gotta tell ya.
- I’m also attending the San Diego Comic Con this weekend, sort of. And sort of on behalf of Destructoid.
- Ectoplasmosis is full steam ahead, thank you very much.
- Unhallowed Metropolis Book One is complete, and will launch at GenCon Indy. I may or may not be there.
- Unhallowed Metropolis Books Two and Three are in the works, respectively. One will be entirely photographic, and I am under the impression that I’m in charge of the art direction. The other will be an expansion for the game itself, dealing primarily with the occult, and will have both photographic and drawn/painted illustrations. I’m contributing to this one as well, with art and writing. They’re due in a year or so.
- September will see an art show at Blow Salon in Berkeley, with paintings by me and a bunch of other people of whom I have yet to learn. More on this later, but I’ll probably be finally showing the Bee Commission in public, along with some new pieces.
- I moved out of the homeless shelter. I now live inside a hollowed-out asteroid, covered in rockets, that I have cleverly turned into a spacedinghy. It’s cold here, and all my stuff is still in boxes, but it’s rent controlled and I have yet to see a cockroach.
- I owe some people prints. I’m aware of this, I apologize, but shit has been BANANAS.
- I am vaguely and seriously considering getting some sort of part-time assistant or manager to handle all this bullshit. Basically I need a Deirdre, know what I mean?
- Overlord fucking blows.
- Earth Defense Force rules.
And that about covers it. Questions?
by
Eliza Gauger on July 24th, 2007 ~ 11:31:03 PM
Slotted into Destructoid, Ectoplasmosis, Games, Robots, The Internet, Unhallowed Metropolis, Writing |
1 Comment »
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Log # 163
Table of Malcontents RIP, Ectoplasmosis Forever!
Thanks to the inestimable Rob Beschizza for the music video.
After parting ways from Table of Malcontents, Florian (Brownlee) and I are striking out on our own. Prepare for more Cthursday, more Noise du Jour, more Nabokov, more rust, more stardust. We love you that much, at least.
Ecto will be similar to ToM in content and format, to begin with. From there, we will be experimenting, elaboration, congealing, and generally futzing.
Ecto is also on Twitter: http://twitter.com/ectomo
