Gibberings
Dad told me never to use XTREE when he wasn’t in the room.
August 19, 2008 ~ 11:00:16 PM * -07:00ST
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Log # 169
Grinding Noises
I realize, yes, that the last entry was a horrible chunk of insane blither. If you’re interested in actually making a fully-formed answer to the question “what’s up” spring, Athena-like, from my puckered brow, then I encourage you to skim the beast for news of home.
Otherwise you may carry on as normal.
Near the end I said something about acquiring an assistant. What I really need is a manager. Someone to tell me what I’m supposed to be doing, when, and for how much money. Say I’m an irritable young renaissance man with too many irons in the fire, a tight budget, and boundless aspirations. Is it possible to hire someone to organize my horrific life for me? Am I doomed to live in filth, nesting in the wadded-up pages of unfinished comics? What’s wrong with my brain, anyway? Why do I insist on taking on five and six projects at a time? Why can’t I find that other Netflix disc?! It’s been months!
Here’s an illustration from Unhallowed Metropolis that I don’t think I’ve posted yet. It’s a Dhampir, a half-vampire, hunter-for-hire sort of shonen character. I groaned when I read the description Jason gave me. The Sephiroth type gives me hives. Looking at this image now, for the first time in months after I completed it, I can see a slew of little irritating problems that are impossible to rectify, since the thing is already being printed. I sob with frustration.
by
Eliza Gauger on July 26th, 2007 ~ 01:09:09 AM
Slotted into Artwork, Comics, Depressing, Unhallowed Metropolis, Zombies |
2 Comments »
Comment by renoraines on
August 5, 2007 at 3:23 am
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You know, off topic and all, the console on your illustration really looks like a steampunk iphone. Well anticipated. Maybe add OS/industrial designer to the list of job descriptions?
Comment by renoraines on
August 5, 2007 at 3:26 am
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Of course, had I proofread that at all i would have seen that I omitted the “page” from “illustration page” But I didn’t and now I shall slink off in my signature quatch buttocked shuffle, and shed a single tear.
