LIAM'S BIRTHDAY IS TODAY.
(Give him gifts of myrrh, in-game currencies, and nudes.)
Liam, if you didn't know, is a good friend of mine with whom I share a really bizarre history. You probably know a lot about it, because it was a huge learning experience for the both of us. All the same, Today's a day to admire how far he's come over the years, laugh about stupid-ass guild shenanigans in VidyaRO, Maid-Salute, and generally appreciate our resident Dark Reign pro, Maid Overlord, and Maker of "Mmph"s. If you've not already, hit 'em up Right Here and throw some confetti for him.
Skirting right on down the line and knocking the next happy occasion off the list, I'm going to talk about pornography. About two years ago, I was experimenting with my ability to draw - I'd seen a lot of occasions where people were drawing with pencils or tablets, and then coloring-in the subsequent line art. I'd become acquainted with Swedish pornographic artist, RockCandy through his Yume Nikki flashes, as I was very much a fan at the time and hadn't soiled-up my love for it with my love for .flow.
Paging through his material, I grew really fond of his sole male character, Sixten Tubén, and left a message on his Guestbook stating that I'd draw Sixten, because he seemed really under-appreciated when put next to the female cast. Dicking around in Photoshop a bit, I realized that there was absolutely no way I was going to color-in a lineart of Sixten piloting a FlatSpace space-taxi. I just didn't have the know-how.
I always felt sort of guilty about that, and yesterday morning while reminiscing about that old game Dark Cloud, I suddenly remembered RockCandy and the artwork I'd said I'd do for him. Only this time, I owned up on it. I was elated when he hosted the piece on his page, but embarrassed to find he'd listed the artist as "A guy named Hank".
My Yahoo Mail name is "Hank Rearden," a character from Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. All things considered, though, I know I'm the artist and, well, I don't really have a name I use when doodling!
I think it's because I just doodle. I don't really consider myself much an artist.
And now we land on the other half of the title - Shit.
I'm wrecked. I just trekked twelve miles on foot for thirty bucks. I hope it gets me where I need to go, but that's nowhere until I get it deposited and order my train tickets.
I wasn't aware that they charge such an outrageous rate because "Two-Way Ticket" is actually conductor lingo, and means "Buy two separate tickets."
In my spare time, I've been sorting out the tumultuous relationship between two of my friends - one's young and really undefined, that is, he doesn't know what he wants, where he wants to be, and who he wants to be there with. The other person in the equation is level-headed, persistent, and already on really stable ground. They're really juxtaposed - even age-wise - and it leaves them communicating very poorly and at a sort of conflict of interest as of late. I don't really know what to do, so I've just been coaching them on each-other a bit, trying to get them to convey themselves, and praying that it all works out somehow.
In addition to all of this crap, I'm in the middle of moving, sort of.
I'm not really moving. My parents are moving, but they've recruited me to help and it's just a fuckin' mess.
It doesn't pay either.
But anyways, that's the gist of things.
I've got to go call someone to make sure driving lessons for someone important are all lined-up.
I should get a shower, too. Those twelve miles have left me feeling sort of, y'know. Greasy.
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