I’m the master poetaster; Of disasters I’m the best, For I make no alabaster, Rather plaster… and a mess. I make no sonnets in a bonnet (Who would don it. Hell, not I), And I doubt that I would flaunt it If I did; I’d rather lie. I compose no verbose longings. I dream up no themes of love. I propose my compost, yawning, And I scheme for reams of guff. Please don’t hate me. Venerate me! Mine’s the best…
I’ve been busy at work with deadlines and sapped of all energy at home from the heat wave. With a new production schedule and no air conditioning, I’ve been forced to be less than bubbly through all of it. If this month dares, DARES to be to me what Groundhog Day was to Bill Murray, I will have to find a wormhole somewhere and jump right into it. That, or hurt somebody. In the meantime, I’ve given myself a break…
As I’ve mentioned in my About page, I’ve once or twice been compared to Dorothy Parker. At the time, I had no idea who Dorothy Parker was; I’d never read her work, and I’d never heard of her. So I looked her up and found little gems like: This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force. and: Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns…
Notes: The dancing alien (scanned pencil sketch colored entirely in Photoshop 6.0) is holding a glow stick and is done in a style I don’t usually use (as a test only); he is later going to a party deejayed by one of the nicest people online. The dancing girl is a Poser 3 figure rendered in Bryce 3D and touched up (and given hair) in Photoshop; I will add clothes to cover up her naked body when I find the…