i just remembered.

(my zine-self.)

when doves cry

It's Prince and a falabella, y'know, because they're both short. I was going to draw a dove crying in the upper right, but didn't. I think it looks too caricature-y, and I hate caricatures, but oh well because it's a doodle of Prince and a falabella.

i'm not being ironic.

I really like Carpenters. (No "the"). It's pretty lucky because I can always find a Carpenters record or tape at thrift stores. I was doodling Karen yesterday, which is why there is absolutely no thought about composition here. Dear Pancake: you remember dancing in my room to "Superstar," right? Yes. In my old room at my old apartment, which I not-so-fondly refer to now as the "Heroin Hut," although it wasn't yet the "Heroin Hut," because that one, that one dude didn't live there yet.

my brother

I once sort of accidentally stabbed my brother in the thigh with a meter stick. It gashed open and was bleeding, but he was about to beat me up and I didn't know what to do. Our relationship has gotten better in the past couple of years and moved to a more neutral state. He has pretty bad tattooes, lifts a lot of weights so has huge muscles, and loves his two cats, his girlfriend, and video games. I got him a can of Coke from my aunt and uncle's garage on Christmas Eve. I mean, I got up from my seat and walked about ten meters to get it for him. He told me I looked like "a little asian boy." While that's not exactly what I was going for with my 'do, I think it's one of the nicer things he's said to me.

this is really good

Here's a recipe that I often made during Upper Peninsula winters:

• gather snow
• put in cup
• pour orange juice over it
• enjoy

It was like a slushie, but practically free! Delicious!

Happy Birthday to my dear Pancake!

rats

For a glorious half a day, I had the internet at my apartment. That was yesterday. The person wised up and made it password protected. Rats.

magic & a writing exercise

Prompt: Write a paragraph in third person limited omniscient that uses objective description, a biased third person, and direct thought. (In short: try to mimic James Joyce.)

They listen to records and she looks at him in the lamplight. Four years. Has it been four years? Richard Simmons sings about loving yourself. Seriously. Richard Simmons has a record and they listen to it because it makes them laugh. She grabs a crayon from the carpet, the pack sprawled like pick-up-sticks, and begins to color in Kirk Hammett’s face with green from his Heavy Metal activity book. What’s the difference between living in Neverland and being a loser who never grew up? She told him she thought magic follows them. The previous day when they were in the store, trying to find groceries for dinner, there was magic there, in the corner of the screen, you know, if they had been on a screen. She draws some pink stars on the bottom of the page. You see? Just a little bit of magic there, following us.

on second thought...

As it turns out, I don't think our French class's musical is going to be the debacle I thought it would be. And I've been thinking, I kind of wouldn't mind the support of my friends at it. My main solo is on our Saturday production, but I have three other parts each night. So, it's Friday and Saturday at 8:00 pm in the Black Box Theatre in the Atlas building. Yup.

Well, my daily blog was fun that one week that it lasted.