Monthly Archives: April 2013

You will forget, which you’ll regret. Boba Fett.

takin'-notesObscure Star Wars reference, or life lesson? Both. And it rhymes. Bam.

Get yourself a notebook.

The human brain is butter. No seriously, the human brain is the consistency of butter. What fool would let his/her/hurrrgh life be controlled by the fat that quite literally marbles the brain. A fool, that’s who.

Imagine you’re trying to come up with an idea, from nothing, from nowhere. Odds are that the substance of that idea will be of that which it draws from, namely nothing – flimsy, like a limp-wristed badminton player that enjoys powdering the very tip of their nose with the delicate powder that keeps marshmallows separate.

Your ideas should be informed by life, true events and personal experience. Write what you know. And the only way to know what you know is to remember. And how will you remember when you have a fat head?

Notebook.

Also, separate your self-involved anecdotes into sections. The idea is to order your thoughts, not create another labyrinthine hall of narcissism that you’ll never look at again. Online resources are available, like Evernote and Simplenote, but I often feel technology doesn’t have the same hipsteresque appeal of analogue pen and paper.

Boba Fett will never forget. Vengeance drives him. But you don’t, you have a baconbrain.

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Onward to the past

I recently came across some o’ the drawings I drew in the years of my youth. When I was about 16, in fact. I did this thing in high school where I drew on a piece of notepad with a blue ball point pen e’eryday (I called them my DAYLY DIABOLICAL DUBIOUS DEVIOUS DOODLES
of the DAY!!!!) and these are some of the self-indulgent spunk. You can even see them on my old deviantart page.

This was what I wrote in the description for this one.

“Sam and Max freelance police!
The goofy duo without sam…That’s like samdwich without the Sam, Sam-Francisco without the Sam And Sam and Max without the Sam. As you can see…Max is but a plushy of his former self.
Oh, and there’s a lion with fingers and a guy totally tripping on freebase. of Idiocy.

Strike the world by a hail of flaming bananas and concrete donkeys.
Good times…good times…

DDDDDotD ma’am.

Oh, yes and all fear the budgie of pain…Yadda, yadda”

Man, wasn’t that just an omen for the dark tidings of incoherent non-sequiturs  to come? It’s fun to review your past work/journal entries/effluvia emissions, because you’ll often find valuable insights into your current person. Mine was that I was tangy from the get-go.

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Hug those idiots at the watercooler

Foster true relationships with your colleagues. No really.

I made the grievous mistake to think that you should keep work and play separate. The ideal is to have your weekends and weeks bleed into each other, when the people that buy your fish and O2 are the people that you share your fish with. Because lord knows they take your O2 anyway, the damn moochers.

But for real real.

Think about the funnest work you’ve ever done. If you’re like me, it’s probably that off-beat stupid video you made on a drunken whim when you didn’t have anything vicing your angerglands except for a burning desire lodged within those same mansatchels.

Clients have a tendency to dilute the artistic integrity of your craft, sometimes even up to the point when you throw your hands up and say “I’ll make it, you damn machine-cog, but I’ll have eyes more glazed than honeyed hams.” Alliteration. Don’t compound the soulless interest.

You cannot separate work and play, because by it’s very definition you’ll separate your soul from your hands. And everybody knows Raziel without the Soul Reaver is just a tall smurf with an overbite.

You play with your friends, you work and make belittling comments behind your colleagues’ backs. Foster the former, obliterate the latter. By. any. means. nessy.

This is a animation I made for Bulelwa, and I love her to horrific facemelting death-death.

Peace.

b!

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No dog would care about this post

So, if you consider that the universe has a finite amount of f%#s to give, and that the entire canine segment of the all-pie chart is eliminated, logic dictates that you should probably care.

And here’s why.

The psychology of colour is fascinating, we have cultural associations and physical responses.

The colour of blood, sex, heat, war, speed, anger, love, courage, defiance, revolution, tension and it’s the colour of Cyclops’s eyebeams for pity’s sake. Vreeem!

I’m taking the obsequious kiss-ass route and sharing this nifty little thing I made for my dark masters (who are actually quite affable). Oooh, negative space.

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