Something revisited

As I've mentioned, I'm terrifically inert these days. I haven't been painting at nearly the clip I'm accustomed to. I've been spending my time wallowing in shit, I guess. Not literally. Although my room could definitely use a good once over. In any case, here is something-



I initially wanted to get down in good ol' paint and ink some things I'd done in msPaint. Not having something I can physically touch makes me feel uneasy. I've extended my scope in this endeavor to cover some of my old ink drawings. The laurel here took some time and taught me a few things in the process. Next up will be something from msPaint times. Either walrus killing tyrannosaur or mammoth eating unicorns. We'll see.

In other news, I've been recovering from goat skull mayhem. I've been looking at this deer skull I've got and trying to envision how the hell I'm going to mount it. It's too big for a bell jar. Probably another shadow box project. Might be nice. Might also be nice to stuff it into a bell jar anyway. In any case, I've got to get myself down to Paxton Gate.


And as I'm bored as all get out, here is a picture of the top of my cabinet.


Visible are a few relics; my recent goat cranium explosion, my third watercolor attempt, a magazine full of british 303 rounds for my old rifle, a brutal chopping knife, a horseshoe given to me by someone important, and hiding behind the lamp a tobacco pipe and a reliquary box containing a pheasant skull (best birthday present ever). I realize now that most of these items, lamp included, are of supreme sentimental value. I entrench myself in objects like that. I've got a loteria card in my wallet that will attest to this. I cling to things like this because I am such a goddam hermit, I think. In any case, I enjoy the hell out of this stuff, despite the fact that it makes my room look like the den of a murderer. Or an apothecary's lounge. Either way.

Disarticulation 2: Rise of the Goat Skull

I've had a goat skull resting calmly in an old drawer for some time now. It was procured during a trek along the railroad tracks some time ago. A fantastic day, that. It netted me the squirrel skull previously seen here being rent asunder and re-purposed, but this goat skull was definitely the top prize. I've been going back and forth about how exactly to get this thing into presentable shape. It still had a bit of matter on it, mostly dried out leather and fur. A couple months back I boiled the thing and started taking it to parts. That process stank to high hell, and I'm glad the none of my roommates were awake to smell what I did to the kitchen. One of the many benefits of being a nightbeast. Luckily it aired out, but the pot I used will never see function as anything but a bone boiler again. It's become a grizzly mess.

I started out with the pile of crap on June 3rd, a large bell jar obtained at Paxton Gate, a couple spools of copper wire, various adhesives and macabre desire to see these things collude.

I started out by breaking the thing along the sutures on the top of the brain case, orbits, zygomatic arches, lambdoid sutures, nasal bones, the whole top of the thing. I tethered these back together with a few wire links, and it looked like this-

I also spent a good hour using a dremel bit to hand-auger a hole in the base of the bell jar. This resulted in several blisters and not a small amount of swearing. Into this, I stuck what would be the main support with a cross piece to support either side of the mandible.

From here I decided to pull some teeth. I wanted to have the beasts chompers exposed in some way, but I wasn't sure how. I messed around with a couple things and decided to suspend them with wire above the stinking gumholes.

I dialed it down a bit after some thought, but it provided me the opportunity to yank out and subsequently reassemble a bunch of goat teeth, which is something that not many people ever get to do in a lifetime.

I pulled the teeth out of the maxillae, wired them back in, and started thinking about how the hell I was going to actually get this thing rigged up.

I finally started to crack a few of the issues involved with this bastard, got the top mounted, and my camera couldn't keep up with the frantic flurry of wiring that followed.

After getting the top and bottom situated, getting the rest of the thing stuffed together was fairly straightforward. After solving a stability problem that stemmed from the entire construct being supported by one wire strut, after 6 days, a whole mess of wire (probably about 15 feet in total, 16 and 22 gauge both), and enough toxic adhesive to get an entire bathroom full of central valley high schoolers high for two days I had something moderately terrifying glaring at me from inside a lovely glass dome.

It feels good to have the thing completed. I've got more things like this to do, but for now I'm going to wash the bone dust and chips out of my beard, clean my table off and smile like a self-satisfied prick for a while. Do not disturb.

There goes my brother, there goes my wayward friend

Tonight, I had the great pleasure of meeting a fine Irish lad by the name of O'Donnell. Drunk as a longshoreman and just as ugly, this fellow was a picture of Irish charm. I was, apparently, his best friend after directing him to the bathroom. He regaled me with stories about Sean Cannon of Dubliner's fame, and what it's like to live next door to him. He danced the river dance across the lobby floor. He engaged in a brief political debate with an Israeli man (who told him, with deadpan eyes, that Ireland is the number one target of Israeli military strikes). He tried unsuccessfully to get laid multiple times, and as a matter of fact owes me 5 dollars on that score. He also demanded a sandwich from me. I drew him a picture of a sandwich, but I don't think it's what he really wanted. During a visit from some returning travelers from New Zealand, he flung himself around one of them and swore undying love, then promptly forgot her name. The antipodeans were less than impressed with his shenanigans, though clearly a little charmed by the brogue. They didn't spray him with mace at least.

His lovelorn sorrows prompted one man to invite him into his own bed for the night. "Do you want to get my smell on you?" he asked.
"No lads, look here. Let me explain something to you. Thank you, by the way, for the offer. And no offense. But I'd rather smell like myself." Which is a happy coincidence, really, because not only does he have no choice in the matter but he also makes up the entire supporting crowd for that odor.

Finally, his steam began to wind down. My persistent urging for him to get some sleep finally seemed to register and he bid the then-empty lobby goodnight. He stopped to lament that his bunk was on top, complained about the difficulty he'd have getting up there, collapsed briefly to announce that he'd surely die in the attempt. I told him that if he died that night I'd say some beautiful things at his funeral. This seemed to be enough, and he shambled off. I could track his upstairs progress by the series of thumps and swears where he'd fall on the landings. Truly, a prince among men.

In other news, I finished this recently-


I've decided to make this one stretch out. I'm going to add panels to it soon. There was a startling lack of robots, so I decided to fix that problem. Also a lack of walking tree monsters, and things with houses for heads, and all the various other beasts that tend to dominate my thinking. I'm looking forward to that. But first, I've got a goat skull to mount. Expect news on that soon.

inconditus

My attention span has been all over the place like a crazy woman's shit. I'm without muse. I should say I am at distance. Physical and otherwise. Living in a city like this is interesting, but I'm sat with the distinct impression that it's killing me. Being without a car, being cursed to probably never have a car in the state of California again; it's also killing me. It's a kind of incarceration. In any case, it's my shit sandwich and I get to eat it down.

I've been working on a lot of crap simultaneously. It's bad news for me. Stripped along the side is a good chunk of it. Four items that have been sitting around for a while.
I've got a thousand other half formed ideas failing to culminate in anything substantive in the ol' brainbox.

We'll see how things turn out. Prints edge ever closer to being a reality. Other projects are being worked on at a steady clip. None of that goes any further to extricate my own lethargic process from the mire. Something will shift soon though. I can feel something just beyond reach. For the time being I'm sitting here in my own filth, watching a BBC program featuring the greatest screaming scottish menace I've ever seen, scrawling what I can and waiting for good things to happen.

Hopefully they will next weekend, when a previously thwarted quest for second hand tweed suits resumes.

And now I'm going to sleep. I've got to work earlier than usual tomorrow. I am hoping to revive my Gentleman's Response blarg soon. That's just what I need. Another thing to be working on.