Page
1

Panel
1

The writer and the
artist are sitting opposite from each other at a table. The artist is
looking at the writers script and he sees a problem with it.

Artist: On
pages six through nine you have this scene with a cat…

Writer: Yeah, in dreams cat’s are symbolic of misfortune,
treachery and bad-luck.

Writer: It’s
foreshadowing what happens in the next scene.

Panel
2

The artist puts down the
script to explain to the writer:

Artist: But I can’t draw a cat.

Writer: What do
you mean you "can’t draw a cat"?

Panel
3

As the artist explains
the situation, the writer angrily stands up and reaches for a crowbar that is
hanging on the wall.

Artist: I mean I
can’t draw a cat. I’ve never practiced, I don’t know how!

Writer: Oh I’ll
teach you how to draw a cat.

Panel
4

The writer caves in the
artists head with the crowbar. The artist has been mostly knocked out
of the panel by the blow but his hands are still in panel, futilely
held out in front of him in an attempt to protect himself. As the
crowbar connects the artists blood sprays the writer and the wall
behind him.

Writer
(shouting): DRAW THE $&#*ING CAT!

Panel
5

The writer brings the
crowbar down on the artist again. This time we see the writers crazed
look from the POV of the artist.

Writer
(shouting): DRAW THE $&#*ING CAT!

Panel
6

POV is from outside of
the room. It’s night and through the window we see the silhouette of
the writer bludgeoning the artist again.

Writer
(shouting): DRAW THE $&#*ING CAT!

Page 2

Panel
1

Full page panel. We’re
out in the woods at night. The scene is lit by a single lantern at
the writers feet. The writer is digging a hole, and looking around
with shifty, remorseless eyes. Sightly off to one side lays a blood
stained sheet which contains the lifeless body of the artist.

---

Drawing is harder than it looks. I’ve been practicing a little and the best I can do is copy a drawing by another artist. I’m not even close to drawing a human figure without a model. And when I get to that point then I’ll have to learn how to draw animals, vehicles, settings and on and on…
This learning experience has taught me a few things about artists though:

1. Good sketches of superheroes doesn’t imply a good artist. Superheroes wear spandex because they’re essentially wearing no clothes, and nudes are easier to draw than people in loose fitting clothing.
2. Make sure they can draw backgrounds. Backgrounds aren’t fun to draw so most artist don’t practice drawing them.
3. Learn and use an artists strengths. Anyone reading The Flash may have noticed that there’s been a lot of devastated cityscapes. This is because the writer likes the way the artist draws devastated buildings. (He later discovered that the artist also hates to draw devastated buildings.)
4. If you’re going to introduce a new kind of anatomy (like, say, a cat) give them enough time to practice.

Spoken-word wizard shit

---

Edit: From the spoken word MP3′s of Ernie Cline

Ever since the Summer Olympics started the Yahoo! News “Most Popular Photos” page has been stacked with pics of female athletes in very tiny outfits.
Well today’s Most Emailed goes way too far.
I’m going to send Yahoo! an email in protest, but first I’m going to go to the restroom to masturbate in protest.

This is (approximately) what my tat’ll look like once the shading is done.

On the one hand, I think it looks just fine without any shading.
On the other hand, Bill has a good point, as it stands it’s not a complete work of art.

Still thinking…

Quoted from :

…we just got onto the freeway, when we spotted this old woman walking down the side of the road. Tone pulled over. I voiced my objections, since I’ve yet to see a movie where picking up a hitchhiker is ever a good idea.
So the woman got into the car. Tone tried to ask her some questions, but she wasn’t terribly lucid. He asks where she is going. He thinks she says North County. Turns out she says Northern CALIFORNIA. He asks why she’s going there and where she’s from. She said she’s coming from Yuma (the town on the AZ/CA border, for those of you who don’t know). So at this point, Tone decided he was just going to drop her off at a Denny’s on the way home. Well, we head to where he thought there was a Denny’s, but no Denny’s. So he steps out of the car and calls the police, in the hopes of possibly getting this woman back to where she should be.
We wait 30 minutes for the cops, and the woman had fallen asleep. I joke that she isn’t just asleep, and Tone Mind you, we were in a parking lot across the street from a HOSPITAL, where there are usually a couple of cops running around, unless “ER” has been lying to me all these years. The cop gets there, gets some info from Tone, and takes the woman out of the car and checks her ID.
The punchline: She’s from El Centro (Two hours east of San Diego by car).

We never did catch her name.

OK, I have pics of the tattoo. It’s not all that easy to take a picture of ones own lower back. Of the dozen pics I took I’m posting the clearest one, and the best one that has the complete design.

I described the design in a previous post, and I did find a suitable substitute for the noose. Andy told me about an item from Tibet, “A ritual dagger or phurpa is symbolically used to kill demons, thus releasing them to a better rebirth.” Pharpa’s are used for symbolically removing obstacles. and is a better idea than the skeleton key I would have gone with.

Did it hurt?
Yes, it hurt. It felt like I was being scraped with an X-acto knife. But after a few minutes I got used to the pain. The worst part was holding the same position for three hours.

How much did it cost, and who did it?
$300 and I went with Bill Kiefer at Chronic Tattoo. I liked his style but most importantly he’d done a lot of work in grays.

Is it done?
Nope, I’ll be getting it shaded on September 8th.

Is it still sore?
Nope, The soreness went away within 24 hours. It still has a little texture and it itches a bit, I guess that’s just the top layer of dead skin pealing off.

Where is it?
On my lower back, by my Swadhisthana Chakra

On Saturday I went to Scolari’s Office with , , and… uh… Tina, to check out The Necro Tonz.
I was drawn to the show by a line on their flier describing the Tonz as “Death Lounge, Ghoul Jazz”. Basically they dress ike it’s Halloween and play parodies (like “What is this thing called Blood” and “The Ghoul from Ipanema”), strait covers of creepier pop songs and a few original numbers.
They’re from Dallas, of all places, and they invented their act when playing at a friends wake. The gimmick was a hit and they’ve stuck with it since the mid-nineties. It was a damn good show.

Almost as entertaining were the drunken assholes at Scolari’s. They work in shifts you know.
For the Tonz’ first set there was a Lynard Skynard looking motherfucker with a beer in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. There isn’t what you’d call a stage at Scolari’s, so Lynard take his position, inches from the band members, and just rock-out. Most of the time he’d just bob his head like a walking pigeon but occasionally he’d help out the band by conducting.
For the first half of the second set the asshole was a forty-something guy in a bennie who stood in the middle of the room and bobbed up and down.
Then, sometime in the middle of the second set they sent in the relief asshole. A skinny, bald, fifty-something who paced a lot and must of felt that the best way to show the band his appreciation was to lift his shirt and show them his bare upper-body. Over and over again. I don’t know maybe he felt hot of something. He’s a drunk asshole what do you expect?
After closing time all three were palling around together outside the bar. I figure they must be members of the Fraternal Brotherhood of North Park Sots, or something.
Anyway, I bought their album (The Necro Tonz album, not the drunk assholes. They’re having creative differences.) and if they come back to San Diego you’ll read about it here.

I am now a tattooed person.
Which means that I’m cooler and can kick your ass.

All the color coded alerts over the last few years have me numb. Whenever I hear about the big storms heading to Florida I say, “Yeah, right, whatever…”