Two years later. . .

. . . I'm finally posting again! Not that it really matters seeing as this is more a personal endeavor than something to please a fanbase. I went to Panama, attended two weddings (one of which I officiated), got a Master's degree, got a tattoo, and moved to Salt Lake City. I have a stash of new art that I'm going to post, and though it's tempting to dump it here all at once, I'm going to spread it out like before.

I'll start with the tattoo.

This is a line drawing I did last April of Paraponera clavata, colloquially known as the bullet ant. It's purported to have the most painful insect sting so, not wanting to miss out on an opportunity to better know my study organism, I had my advisor sting me with one. If you want to know more about that experience you can ask me in person.

I wanted to go for a style that was realistic but used solid lines in place of true shading. It's based off of several of Alex Wild's photographs (http://www.alexanderwild.com), and the specimen that I kept.
In order to commemorate the finishing of my degree and the experience of the sting itself, I brought my design to Golden Lotus Tattoos in North Little Rock and had it cover the location of the sting:

The design had to be enlarged and simplified due to the intricacy of the lines, and the shading (that I didn't ask for) doesn't follow the pattern of any particular light source, but all in all I was quite pleased with the outcome.

Self-explanatory

. . .

On the process of creation:

Brain Juice

Distilled thoughts which slop
down on paper like black mud
gritty and viscous
The wade through them
Delicious or sickening, I can't decide
Slats of silt so dark and sweet,
and wide across my vast insides.
Coalescent conceptions wait for their final sauté
A steamy ballet or melting sorbet of the
blind writings of my future protégé
A me which can wipe the left overs away

Brain juices unrefined
break free often from my mind
Tart, bitter, perverse.
Greasy confusion which in the foam rises
through the whirling mentalities of which they're comprised
Spit out on your face, on your hands
and your ego: the frosting of obscene indignation
Stripping my muses of fresh contraband
But everyone yells out false appreciation
for my cognitive custards
As I vomit a slurry of dream elementals
That no one's supposed to understand.

Running Low

My well of previous works is slowly but surely drying up, and soon I'll no longer be able to maintain the pace at which I've been posting. I'm still producing art but only a little bit at a time seeing as it's a hobby and not a career. I will keep this site for as long as possible, and even if I go months between, I'll still update it when I can.

For now, I hope you'll be satisfied with whatever you think this is supposed to be:

I drew it for my cousin who wanted me to draw a wolf, but I instead tried to draw anything but a wolf, and still have the picture look like one. It's almost like one of those hidden picture drawings you find in Highlights magazine at the Dentist's office. How many objects can you find!!

Ant jokes. Hilarious.

Please click to enlarge.
In order to better understand the punchline, just read up on the awesome behavior of these ants.
(C. cylindricus is in the same species complex as C. saundersi)

Koyoten von Weltraum

If I'm not mistaken, it means "Coyote of Outer-space" in German, which happens to be the name of the piece I'll be presenting to you today.

This song was written in 2009 by rock wizard Remy Chan and myself, and we recorded this take just last summer (2010). The recording is dropped 1.5 half steps to give my voice a grittier sound. It could stand to be cleaned up a fair amount but it's quite close to what I'd like the end result to sound like.




Here are the lyrics:

__________________________________________

Gather 'round folks, let me tell you a story
'bout a time in the future where I once have been.
Was a little caballera near Alpha Centauri,
runnin' from the law 'cause she killed 20 men.
At her call was a man made of alloyed steel,
killed for creds cause it was his trade.
Sent to kill the girl, but he fell in love,
so he packed his guns and he changed his ways.
She was there for him, he was by her side.
Hits on their heads, they were forced to hide;
just a gal and her tin man. . . tryin' to stay alive.

Droid and cowgirl chased like game
by the hunter they'd been assigned:
half-man, half-fox, red hair like flames,
and he went by the name of Valentine.
His gun, "cupid," shot plasma beams.
Never went for the head always shot for the heart.
Didn't quite matter where he laid his aim
'cause that damned thing could blow trains apart.
On Hades-6 he finally caught their smell,
and on the barren rock where many men had fell,
he chased them across. . . the plains of hell.

They ran as they could but he quickly gained
when they sheltered each other from the acid rains
that fell all night. . . at Back-Bone Ridge,
And the gorge at the ridge was a mile wide
and they tried to flee to the other side
across the old train line. . . the only bridge,
But the fox was there he had chased enough.
The bot stepped in front to protect his love;
he clenched his iron chin. . . and said "Let the duel begin!"
The girl protested with dread on her face
and Valentine shot on his second pace
so the cyborg would not win. . . but she took the blast for him.

His eyes grew red
with molten tears,
let forth a cry
hollow and fierce.
Drips of blood
on the metal man
flecked the ground
as he madly ran.
He clashed with the fox in a death embrace
of titanic proportions, blasting lasers
split the sky like a violet edge
as they both soared off of the canyon's ledge.

Red dust shifted on a stale wind
and settled on the hot and lifeless land,
but a silver claw rose and from over the lip
came the tall android, a severed head in his hand.
Valentine vanquished and lover avenged,
he wrenched and tore at his body's case,
found the last living part that made him a man
and with his dying act hurled it into space.
You can still see it there shining midst the stars.
Take heed these words I do impart:
Never second guess the love. . . from a steel heart.

_______________________________________

In addition, here's a rendering of my take on the climactic scene of the piece:

 Click for full size, and proportionate majesty.

Noise

__________________________________

       As I walked one dreary evening,

       Trundling though a wooded glen,

       I felt a strange and awkward presence

       Mumbling each now and then.

       This mumbling soon grew into

       A deeply bodied growl,

       Coming from a place nearby,

       Put forth by something foul.

       "Stop!" I said so loudly

       I could see my voice appear

       Wavering in the pitch black,

       I spoke again as it drew near.

       "What are you fiend? Why bother me

       With constant vicious groans?

       Have you come to prey on me

       And pick clean all my bones?

       Why do you growl so?

       Are you a ghoul with skin of gray,

       Or perhaps a succubus

       Here to drink my soul away?

       Stop grumbling you unknown brute,

       You ruthless carnivore!

       Be you changing lycanthrope

       Or twice mouthed manticore?

       What mythic beast could roar as such,

       To shake my very person?

       And since I can not see you,

       My confusion only worsens."

       "Well what are you?" the voice then said,

       "Have you claw or hand?"

       "I," I said, "Am hungry . . .

       Oh now I understand."

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