God Enters Through the Wound

Now don’t get mad at me for making god into this little wibbly thing, I mean you ever seen God? No I didn’t think so, so for all we know, he/she/it could look just like that. ^^

Ugh. This picture looks a thousand times better in real life and it’s a full spread and there is this fuckyeah Jugendstile explosion on the omitted right panel–but. As usual. Cannot take a decent pic/scan of it. So here’s the castrated version. ><

This post will be a little all over, sorry moofs.

I actually wanted to post it yesterday, March 1st, Self-Harm Awareness Day. If you’re not aware of self-harm, it’s what they used to call self-mutilation, the practice of repeated and compulsive (usually) cutting of the wrists, arms, legs or other parts of the body. Generally associated with teenagers and a practice that makes me very very sad.

There are many reasons for self-harm; abuse, neglect, lack of positive attention (yes, I believe as human beings we crave positive attention and we suffer severely when we are denied it…).

General insecurity. Poor body image. Bullying.

Not everyone’s got a sad story though, in my case, there was no reason for self-harm, I just looked at the world sometimes and it was so fucking heavy and vast, not always even in a bad way, that I had to make a hole on myself to let it all in (to let it all out?)

Nietzsche said that ‘God enters through the wound,’ and I think Nietzsche was a self-important misogynistic dickhead, but he had a few good one liners. I haven’t self-harmed in… what? Three years now? (Never a cutter, eeeg, too messy, I was a burner), but now I’m all grown up  and adults don’t do that shit anymore, right? We still think about it though, we think about it, and to those kids out there who are doing it and fighting the urge to do it again, I wish there was something ragingly positive I could say to you. :<

I want to talk about unicorn farts and pots of gold, but it would sound fake, so I’m just going to say, hang in there.

::Big hug::

And I hope all of you find the activity or the person or the place that makes that evil little voice inside curl up and die.

I want to dedicate this post to someone ^^. You know, on WP it will say if someone came to my blog from another website (or another blog) and about a week ago, a blog popped up who’s URL I didn’t recognize. I went and checked it out. At that point, there were only two entries, freshly created baby blog, so I read them both. First entry was pretty sad :<  Definitely someone who I could emotionally relate to. The next (so chronologically first) entry described sort of the aim and objective of the blog… and at the end of it, this anonymous person thanked me. I blinked. Yeah, me! She said (and I checked on the profile, she’s a girl) she said that I have saved her life and that I was her hero. O_O Can you fucking believe that?? I was like horrrri sheeet!? I know I couldn’t believe it, and I just sat there like an idiot and stared at the paragraph for a good few minutes and I felt this overwhelming feeling spread through to the tips of my fingers and toes, like wow.

Something I wrote or something I drew helped somebody.

And it felt incredibly warm, and humbling, and good.

So to that person, I would like to say thank you for writing such a thing, I know I feel like I don’t deserve it, but thanks just the same.You made me feel (no, I still feel!) ten meters tall. <3 <3

I wish you all the luck and write me if you ever want, okay? moof06@gmail.com

<3

The Infernal Bridegroom

I'm not sure what's going on in this picture.... but it looks like fun ... (moleskine)

detail o' the groom...

Hey moofs. It’s been a while.

Enough of a while that I actually got a text from a fan (I have a fan. yes. One.) telling me to either 1. Make a post. 2. Post a pic of my tits.

I wish I had really killer tits, because that would mean less work for me and more fun for you, but I decided to go with ‘post’ for the happiness of all.

This picture is called ‘Wedding Night – The Infernal Bridegroom.’ Honey on the right is a really sweet guy who contacted me (!) and sent me a few photos (!) I can use for drawings when I have time. (When do I not have time to draw a pretty man? Two hours of sleep a day is enough, right?)

In the meantime, my publisher is reading my book. I’m so nervous, I could puke. This is the closest I’ve gotten to this book getting published, this moment right now. And I’m so scared to get the “Sorry, but… well yeah, not what I’m looking for…” email >< that will then drag me away from this moment.

But I’m staying it positive  ^^

Nazgul News: Parkour (–) has started his parkour career in earnest. We now keep the kitchen window closed, because he did indeed parkour into the kitchen from the dining room. I knew he was by the window (he usually is, molesting the printer) and I thought nothing of it. His dad was washing dishes and then next thing I know, a spectacular clatter and a shriek that would have stopped Sauron himself, the Great Burning Vagina of Evil in the Sky, dead in his tracks… There’s a ledge directly under the window, so he didn’t fall very far at all, just startled the hell out of himself–and us. So now the window is closed (if this story makes no sense to you, there is a really strange window that opens into our kitchen from the dining room… the window is by the floor. I know. Hard to visually… but easy to parkour through : O)

Wishing you guys a nice week ~__~

Sank yuu!

It was not easy, the day you were born. A moleskine sketch I'm not sure about...

You know, I’ve read so many books over the course of my life, it’s sick– I’ve written so much about books, in emails, in letters, in diaries, here on this blog, it’s insane. When it’s come to dropping letters, I’ve really let it rain, so how unbelievable it is one day to  read something someone had written about a book I’ve written:

….and so this is a story powered by yearning. Though the book describes itself as a genderqueer tale, it shares with yaoi (boy love manga) a searing energy of unrequited love, a passion that unfulfilled is more gripping to readers than the actual coupling of characters could ever be.

….This is a story slick, professional comic art would ruin. Merey’s art, if more amateur, better parallels the life experiments of the high school characters in its grips….

(bold added by me) … It’s like… M-M-Merey’s…. art?  I have ART?!?

You can read the full review here if you’re interested and thank you to Cathy Camper for a nice, thoughtful review!

And now, moving forward. Being in Berlin and talking to Joseph really reconfirmed that I have to stop drinking, frequenting brothels, retire my crack pipe and get my life together… No, what am I saying, I’ve got to stop being a big, quavering pussy and finish my second (I guess technically my third, whatever) book and then find the courage to show it to someone. But I’m afraid.

It’s not that I think it’s badly written… but I just hate imposing on the reader and I feel like this may be one of those books. That impose. I think I might be stretching a reader’s patience too far with it–on the other hand, I feel the story can’t be told any other way.

Oh well, I’ll get it done first–focus of my night, to get back on that.
Hope you’re well, moofies!

Busy People

Some Nudes to Calm the Soul

Agents are busy.
Really fucking busy.
So busy, they don’t have time to reject you. No news means ‘no, you bastard!’

Publishers are busy.
Really fucking busy.
So busy, they don’t have time to talk to you, unless you have an agent.

See the vicious circle?

It’s not their fault. It’s just that they get so much crap they have to wade through,
they cannot reject the crap you’ve added to their insurmountable pile of poopoo in any personal fashion.

But one publisher has responded. Bless his heart!
He has asked me to send him…. stuff!
If I get rejected, it will be personal! And I wanted to record
this happiness, before I get the letter back saying ‘no, this is not what we were expecting, this is not what we were looking for.’

Stroke in two days. WTF am I going to draw on a two meter by two meter space?? With people looking over my shoulder?  AGHGHGHG!

Anyway, good night my moofies. Wish me luck with the publisher.
Wish me luck, so I don’t have to die unpublished, like Oscar Wao, in an unnamed
Dominican cane field.

This ball of neuroses is going to bed.
zzz

The Secret Life of Translators

Or: My Time. Has Finally Come.

I’ve paid my dues, people.

Over the years, I’ve translated some REALLY shitty movies. Imagine the worst movie you’ve ever seen and then take away all plot, all budgeting, all special effects, all artistic DIGNITY–now add a questionably attractive Japanese girl with ill-concealed acne scars and bad razor burn in her Bermuda area, exposed by her scanty latex bikini… Enter the dastardly villain (probably the best boy grip, shoved into a cardboard outfit–they cannot afford another actor). …She’s spent the first half of the movie throwing ill-choreographed punches in a seedy parking lot and now the villain’s going to show her where it’s at. This is the obligatory Torture Scene. The scene ALWAYS starts with Mr Clean Citrus Scented Cleaner, poured liberally over her tied up body, while the baddie cackles about how it’s a horrible other-worldly substance that will now cause her enormous pain–the girl screams, but won’t reveal whatever info. it is that he seeks. So he has no choice. He must untie her, throw her on the ground and spend the next five minutes grinding  his boot into her vulnerable, soft stomach. In the sound-booth, someone abuses the ‘tomatoes getting squished’ button without remorse, and the girl screams and screams.

(Close-up of boot getting ground into stomach.)
//squish, squish, squish//
-Tell me the code.
-Never will I betray my friends…. AGHGHGHGHGHGHG IT HURTS!!!
//squish, squish, squish//

Me, as I translate: Fuck. What IS this garbage? Who watches this?

I try to imagine the intended audience for a 100 min. straight-to-DVD film of this nature, but not even the lowest strata of unwashed otaku moldering in their gloomy, spunk-encrusted Lolicon-dungeons could possibly be interested in such crap. That’s how bad it is.

Move on to question two: Am I getting PAID enough to  do this? And… well. Yeah. So I trudge on. But yet I dream, that one day, I will get an assignment that speaks to ME. …And after a year and a half of softsoft-core, ninja girl shenanigans, pro-female wrestlers and shameless Power Ranger knock-offs, it does get a bit better.

No more live action, I move into anime series–little girls breaking into the world of acting–little girls selling newspaper and being cute–little girls donning princess tiaras and kicking ass for the Lord. And I LIKE little girls, I mean, they’re fun and all, still, not entirely my thing. But a translator-for-hire asks no questions. Like a spy working in an isolated cell, she receives her assignment handed down from way across the ocean, from a shadowy figure known to her only as—-

“Brady”.

But we’ve just wrapped up a series (little girls/princesses). A new season begins and I wonder, with a little trepidation, what story I will now be following for a 52 episode duration… It could be about professional golf, it could be about little girls and their grade-school dramas, but no, not this time, because God is smiling on me–I know now that he exists and is just and good because my newest show will be about….

...BOYS KISSING!

Wee!

(With a publishing house as a back-drop, no less!)
But I think after all this time… I’ve earned it >:P

In other news, today was my last session with W until (–) is born… =( I will miss going over there and chatting about art and drinking coffee–but we will have a chance to resume once I’ve recovered a bit… In the meantime, if you haven’t had a chance to see his drawings yet, here you go (this time, they are definitely big… =)

Moleskine 1.

By now, W has drawn me from every angle–sitting, standing, lying down. The other day, he asked me if I planned on doing a self-portrait before the birth. Nah…. I said. But I guess I changed my mind.

I think (–) turned out really cute. ^-^

(But moof, my meaner readers are thinking… You don’t actually have a jaw-line! I KNOW. But when my pencil was there and I started to draw the weak chin… I just couldn’t, ok??!?)

This is the first in a Moleskine series, inspired by Paintblotch. The Moleskine paper  is so Christian. No matter how much you erase, it turns the other cheek. (Make a mark on my other paper and it is STAYING.)

Have a nice Monday, crocs.