Monthly Archives: March 2012

The Secret Life of Translators II

'One step too late and I never told you...
That I can't take another disappointment...."
Boys <3

[PS: In my next show, I want this. -see picture above-]

I realize I have not written anything on my poor blog for more than a good week now.

Where are you?! A few people have asked. I guess they figure something must be horribly wrong if I don’t have anything to say : D But I don’t, sadly. I want to write you moofs a blog entry full of sex and violence, but my life right now is so fucking boring >< And I am a little down…

One thing to be up about though is that this season for shows is done and I get two new shows. A fresh start! New beginnings! Regeneration! Spring is here!

What shows am I babbling about? Anime, that is to say, Japanese animated shows–we’ve been translating two of them and both have certainly been contributors to my down spirit…

Oh I don’t know… The first show had a wonderful style and characterizations and a really hot main character, just his name was so nice and long, I liked to type it in my Notepad file… ‘Miketsukami’…. prettyyyyy. Miketsukami was a blond, dog-spirited youth with… many tails. 0_0 (You know my tails thing by now, dear reader, surely?!)

So! This show had a pretty guy with a pretty name and and pretty bushy dog tails and interesting side characters and good style in general. But Nothing Ever Happened. Literally. The main plot of the show could have been resolved in about two episodes–the rest of the time, I was translating a 30 minute episode in which the main conflict (no joke) was how does the main female character ask the main male character out to drink a coffee with her?

I waited desperately for scenes in which the male character is at least semi nude, but they added up to about 20 seconds in an entire series >___< Not much to keep me hanging on, let me tell you.

But the other show was even worse. This show began in my mind as ‘Zero’ and later devolved into ‘Louise the Whore’, but not because nothing was happening. Oh no, something happening every other second. Magic! Dragons! Airships! Elves! Hot Young Pope! Hot Young Pope Gets Eaten By Dragon! (Yep. You read that right… ) Boobies! Boobies! Boobies! Ahh, the boobies should have been the tipoff that ‘Zero’ was a member of that fine genre of anime I absolutely detest. I don’t know what the genre is actually called (It is a common trope, so I’m sure it has a formal name) but I myself call it ‘Too many boobs on the dance floor.”

The gist of the genre is this: You have a young guy. He is usually pretty ordinary, but also pretty decent and for whatever reason, has fallen into an extraordinary world (or somehow into a situation outside of his normal circumstance at least) where he is surrounded by beautiful women. They all have ridiculously large, Demi MooreStriptease-era bazooms that bounce like wet balloons at a child’s party. (Side-note: Often, the main female character will have smaller breasts, and this will make for her complex for the entire show.)

This hapless, but ultimately well-meaning young man is thrown into this new environment complete with Sea of Boobs and while he is defeating the Evil or whatever the Fuck, he is always running into these boobs, or tripping and falling on top of one of the girls, getting his face deliciously mashed into her Boobmeat etc. etc. (Did I mention our clueless hero is totally accident prone?) The girls then beat the shit out of him and call him a pervert, but they are in fact all hopelessly in love with him and are all trying to devise a way to confess their feelings (but by the end of the show, he will get together with the small breasted heroine who has won his heart with her fucking annoying high pitched voice.)

This is the genre “Too Many Boobs on the Dance Floor” and if I were King, I would have it banned. It was invented by an evil Cabal of ordinary Japanese men who wish they could trip through their life, knocking their ordinary but well meaning selves into boobs and  having a coven of babes fight over them while they finally pass their high-school exams or defeat the evil dragon (whatever the tedious noise in the background passing as ‘story’ happens to be.)

Boys, take it from me: Never Going to Fucking Happen.

The part where the Pope got eaten was definitely worth a rewind though….



Kawabata wrote a story about a house where men could go and sleep next to beautiful drugged women to get their jollies….This drawing reminds me of that story a bit. It’s a short post, moofs. No pra pra. Just a quick ink sketch pic for a WP friend who’s very talented at drawing the b00bX0rs. He said a few posts back:

How about two women together?

For you MB, not two girlies but three ~_~

Yield – Illu Frito

-Yield (Nagel L. fan, rejoice! It's him. ^^)

Those students have become masters of the trade of drawing, as some others have becomes masters of their grammars. And like so many of the latter, brilliant jugglers of words, having nothing worthwhile to say, they remain little else than clever jugglers of the brush.

The real study of an art student is more a development of that sensitive nature and appreciative imagination with which he was so fully endowed when a child and which, unfortunately, in almost all cases, the contact with the grown-ups shames out of him before he has passed into what is understood as real life.

-Robert Henri, from ‘The Art Spirit

When I was a kid, I just drew.
It didn’t matter what. There was nothing right or wrong to draw. And there was no right or wrong way to do it. A drawing was complete when I felt like it, it was the complete expression of that moment. Is it good? It did not matter, nor did the question ever enter my head. The pleasure was to make it and it lived in its moment.

Now I’m older. What I want to draw constantly battles against what I feel I should be drawing. I want to draw silly sad beautiful things, I feel like I should be drawing things that improve my sense of perspective… ‘Finishing’ a drawing is a battle, because I don’t know when I am finished! I had to grow up to get stupid enough to not even know when my own drawing is inished! I stop when I like it but I think: No. This is not ‘finished’ in the sense of what I think ‘art’ is when it is finished. It looks sloppy, or my lines are sloppy, or it is not perfect, or not all of the paper is covered. It is not on canvas, therefore it is not good enough. It is not of a serious topic–just a boy, or a tail, or fucking, or something beautiful, and Art is about ‘serious’ things like death and the human condition.

How nice to hear the echoes of Paintblotch and W in Robert Henri’s ‘The Art Spirit’. A drawing is finished when you say it is finished. W says: You can finish a drawing in a few moments, if that is what it needs. Only you know. Paintblotch says: Don’t have canvas envy. If you love paper, use paper.There is no ‘right’ medium for art.

Robert Henri says you cannot finish a drawing/painting that has never been started to begin with and a ‘finished’ oil painting may just be a long-worked on cramped space that still says volumes less than an ‘unfinished’ sketch. Because you have worked on it long, because you have ‘finished’ it, it does not mean it is done, if you have never properly started. Perfection can be lifeless. Imperfection can be alive.

It is easy to yield to the pressure to draw the way I see other people doing it. The way I think drawing and art should be conducted. In many ways, this drawing is horrible and it is not what I wanted. But it is a drawing for myself–for you.


Every individual should study his own individuality to the end of knowing his tastes. Should cultivate the pleasures so discovered and find the most direct means of expressing those pleasures to others, thereby enjoying them over again. Art after all is but an extension of language to the expression of sensations too subtle for words.

Abraham Lincoln Says: Draw Tails



And if I were you, I would listen to him.

My art lessons won’t start for another two weeks or so, but until then, I have been instructed to draw ‘real’. Don’t stylize. Don’t prettify. Draw what you see. I decided to try that out this night with a little sketch of two guys in communion with each other, telling myself–okay, don’t make them FANTASY guys, you know, just normal pretty :D and there I was, feeling pretty happy with my quick sketch when who would come visit me at one in the morning in my living room?

Yup. You guessed it.

Abraham Fucking Lincoln.

Holy shit! I thought to myself, seeing a vision of him at 1:06 AM… That’s Abe Lincoln!?!? Mark Ryden, my art hero, gets visions of Mr. Lincoln too! How fortunate must I be to see the very self-same apparition! And then Mr. Lincoln (can I really say that I saw him? It’s more I felt his presence, unholy glowing eyes and all) anyway, he sort of took a peek at my drawing, or I should say I had the feeling of him peeking and I was thinking perhaps he thought it was pretty fine, but then he just sat on the couch and didn’t say “I like it” or “I don’t like it.” He didn’t say anything like that at all, only this:

‘Draw tails.”

My eyes went X X.

Draw tails? What does that mean? Did he mean the boys should have tails? That could be the only meaning, I surmised. But boys DON’T have tails, everybody knows that! And this was supposed to be a realistic drawing, no tentacles, no vines, no fleshy explosions, no unholybeautiful Rapunzel haired huffy mouthed angel boys, just two dudes getting it on as real as I could depict it–I glanced over at the couch and thought I should say something to this effect…

Did I mention Lincoln’s eyes glowed??

I don’t know about you, but what I figured right then is that when one of the greatest undead presidents of the United States whispers anything to you at one in the morning, you don’t ask ‘Why?’ or “Excuse me?’ Your only question could and should be “How many tails?”

So I asked him, sir, how many tails?

“Three on the seme (pitcher) and two on the uke (catcher).”

Done and done! I drew the fuck out of those tails, let me tell you–I didn’t have the guts to ask him what kind of tails he wanted exactly–rat-tails or crocodile tails or horsetails? (Surely no?) So I settled on dog-tails for the top and cat-tails for the bottom and that, my dear moofs, is the story of the picture “Boys with Tails.”

PS: I won’t be showing it to my art teacher. :D




'This may hurt a little, but it's something you'll get used to.'

From ‘The Art Spirit’, by Robert Henri:

‘Cherish your own emotions and never undervalue them.’

‘We are not here to do what has already been done.’

‘I have little interest in teaching you what I know. I wish to stimulate you to tell me what YOU know. In my office towards you, I am simply trying to improve my own environment.’

The last one particularly sticks in my mind right now. I have finally undertaken to start some private art lessons. They will be beginning soonish. The aim is to improve my technique, which is I think the most lacking part of my work. I understand that technique is not everything, and that it can be improved by practice, but I also worry that I waste much time in laziness and not knowing how to practice something right (after all, if you don’t know how to do something to begin with, it’s  hard to practice it… right?)

Randomness has thrown me together with a lady who may be able to help me. I know I could ask Paintblotch or W (and they have helped me much already), but they have their own projects and then, I think it’s maybe time for someone who does not know me or what I do well, someone objective (like an art psychiatrist, if you will. :D)

I told a friend and she was a bit skeptical of the issue. ‘I like what you draw.’ She said to me. ‘I hope you don’t start drawing like everyone else now.’  Of course, I thought to myself… I wouldn’t want to become generic. I see a lot of art that is properly executed, but it doesn’t do anything to me. I would much rather execute something with feeling and a certain lack of skill, but I am hoping that it is not a mutual exclusive problem…

Anyway moofs! Wish me luck! =) My first assignment is to practice drawing ‘real’ people with not distorted and not stylized proportions. I will undertake that in the next few days. In the meantime, every day almost occurs an incident that makes me think: I am not fit to raise a baby Nazgul : ( Just the day before yesterday, I was racing with the Nazgul to make it to the subway on time. In my haste, the wheel locked on the curb and we both fell over. Thank god, (__) was properly strapped in, so he merely found himself viewing the street from a side position, blinking, like dude wtf, you’re doing it wrong, but as I had broken the fall of the carriage with my meat, I was fucking sore. >< Luckily, nobody saw my shame. Gahhhhh. Sometimes, I think… what the hell was I thinking, having a kid?!? This is madness! This is insanity!

This is Sparta!!!!!!!!!!

Then I think: Well, if it’s between having a fuckup for your parent and not being born at all, maybe the former is still preferable….

Have a great week, moofs <3

Illu Frito – Intention

The Road to Hell (or Good Intention.)

I haven’t posted an Illu Friday illustration in a while now… I dunno, the last few prompts didn’t tickle me timbers and then the one prompt that would’ve tickled me I missed… :  ( But I was having a rare drawing session with Paintblotch today– old times with coffee and crazy ass music and she said “why don’t we draw the Illustration Friday prompt?” So, this is what I came up with, kind of a creepy little drawing, but I’ve been doing creepy and crawly lately… not quite sure why. : /

In the meantime, Bavarian life as we know it is changing forever… because German president Wulff has resigned after evidence of light corruption? Oh, who gives a screw :P I’m talking about Muller, my favorite bakery, getting embroiled in a sanitary scandal!! The McDonald’s of bakeries and part of my morning routine for the last five years now, I really hope they don’t go under, rat poop be damned… I’m drinking cold coffee from one of their papers cups right now. ‘frisch wie muller’ (fresh like muller’, it says. The windmill logo windmills at me in a friendly way. I prefer this bakery much more over its competitor ‘Wimmer’, if for no other reason than Wimmer’s slogan always struck me as slightly challenging “Wimmer. Your baker forever” (because we killed all your other bakers bhahaha) is what I always read into that slogan….