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Oct. 7th, 2003 04:15 pmBig pounding rain events in the desert! Oh yay. Yay on so many levels. Boo on the "being caught in the rain and being a wimpy no body fat having sort of person who is still shivering an hour later" level. But really, no complaints, because rain Whee!
Electrophile, neuclophile, neuclophile, electrophile! YES! I imagine this is a highly individualized version of a dance seen all across the world. I call it: Biochem major doing practice exams. I have a test in an hour, and I am going to forget some dumb but crucial fact. "I vaguely remember talk of electrons" I shall say, "... but what are they! What do they DO?"
My hair has staged an open revolt. It's sticking out from my head at a ninety degree angle. So far, it's only the back half. I thought cutting it shorter would bend it into submission, but it seems to have merely freed it from the constants of gravity. This is its retaliation, I suppose- making me look like a hot topic punk rocker is humiliating enough that I may just leave it alone in the future. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT HAIR, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. TURN YOURSELF RED IN MY SLEEP. GO CURLY. GO STRAIGHT. LET THE COWLICKS RUN WILD. GROW. DON'T GROW. IT'S ALL THE SAME TO ME.
I like to draw wordless comics. Mostly because I am lazy, and it saves me the effort of writing dialog and completely frees me from the this "plot" thing. But man oh man, I am reading the Blame manga right now, and let me tell you: Words, they are a good thing. With words, we have a fighting chance of understanding what the hell is going on. Seriously, I am three volumes in, and I am just now, as of the last issue in the last volume, gaining any semblance of an idea of what is happening. I mean, when you have thirty pages without even a sound effect- you loose the reader. You loose her something feirce. Pretty though. Very pretty.
Electrophile, neuclophile, neuclophile, electrophile! YES! I imagine this is a highly individualized version of a dance seen all across the world. I call it: Biochem major doing practice exams. I have a test in an hour, and I am going to forget some dumb but crucial fact. "I vaguely remember talk of electrons" I shall say, "... but what are they! What do they DO?"
My hair has staged an open revolt. It's sticking out from my head at a ninety degree angle. So far, it's only the back half. I thought cutting it shorter would bend it into submission, but it seems to have merely freed it from the constants of gravity. This is its retaliation, I suppose- making me look like a hot topic punk rocker is humiliating enough that I may just leave it alone in the future. DO WHATEVER YOU WANT HAIR, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. TURN YOURSELF RED IN MY SLEEP. GO CURLY. GO STRAIGHT. LET THE COWLICKS RUN WILD. GROW. DON'T GROW. IT'S ALL THE SAME TO ME.
I like to draw wordless comics. Mostly because I am lazy, and it saves me the effort of writing dialog and completely frees me from the this "plot" thing. But man oh man, I am reading the Blame manga right now, and let me tell you: Words, they are a good thing. With words, we have a fighting chance of understanding what the hell is going on. Seriously, I am three volumes in, and I am just now, as of the last issue in the last volume, gaining any semblance of an idea of what is happening. I mean, when you have thirty pages without even a sound effect- you loose the reader. You loose her something feirce. Pretty though. Very pretty.
