40: It's Late, it's #40. I did 39 Other Ones.

A proclamation:

In my years as a citizen in the flawed idyll we call the United States of America, it has frequently been brought to my attention that what our country truly needs is a strong leader. A strong hand at the tiller, if you will. Someone, in short, who will take control of our bright countries policies, and guide us through the stormy seas of life with minimal quantities of hull-scraping and crashing into reefs, wrecks, and other unfortunately sharp pointy objects.

THEREFORE

At the peremptory request and desire of a large majority of the citizens of these United States, I, Genghiz Cohen, formerly of Denial, North Dakota, and now for the last 9 years and 10 months past of the Internet, declare and proclaim myself Emperor of these United States; and in virtue of the authority thereby in me vested, do hereby order and direct the representatives of the different States of the Union to assemble on Blogger.com, on the 1st day of Dec. next, then and there to make such alterations in the existing laws of the Union as may ameliorate the evils under which the country is laboring, and thereby cause confidence to exist, both at home and abroad, in our stability and integrity.

Norton II, Emperor of the United States, Protector of Mexico, Defender of the Peace and Purveyor of Justice.

I assure you, you will not regret my decision.

(If this doesn't make any sense to you, then you desperately need to educate yourself on one Joshua Abraham Norton, A fascinating gentleman.)

Thing a Week 39: With Pictures this Time!

Just a quickie post, but this time I have three (3) graphic aides to supplement the word snack I'm presenting you with. Basically, at school I'm in a graphic design class, and a recent assignment was to make three t-shirt patterns. When it comes to drawing things, I tend to be a massive over doer, so I naturally decided to make three t-shirts that would wow the ages and make children weep with joy. Short of that, I'd settle for shirts that would, at the very least, make children weep.
I failed in that respect, but I ended up making three products that I'm very happy with overall.

The Zombie shirt was my last piece. I was in a pretty big hurry when I made it, and it shows on the lack of polish, but over all I think it's pretty good. I would liked to put on a appropriate font if I'd had the time, but it's too late for that now.



the Dino was my middle piece, and it's the one I'm least satisfied with. It's not terrible, but I kind of slapped it together. given the chance, I would have definitely smoothed things out more, developed the rider a bit, and, again, gotten a font that looked at least half-way decent.








This one was my first, and my favorite by miles. I sweated art to get this right, and I'm really happy with the result. I really wanted a bright, blocky feel, but I didn't want it to be overly simplistic. I think I managed to capture that pretty well, and I also gave it my favorite caption of the bunch. this was my personal winner, hands down.



P.S. Sorry about the text being all mashed up, I'm not used to dealing with pictures.

Thing a Week 39: The 39th Thing a Week... by me.

This is another post where I have to edify, entertain and elucidate! It fails in two of the three, but you will have the decide which ones these are on your own.

Anyway, my subject today is something that I hold dear to my heart, namely: my hatred of mornings. I've already chronicled my uncomfortable relationship with sunlight, but what I have not mentioned is that my hatred grows and wanes with the time. Obviously, there is a seasonal cycle, with summer (or "hot face burny ouch time" as I like to call it) at the top of my impotent rage scale, but there is also a daily rageometer operating as a subroutine on the motherboard of my consciousnesses. I speak of mornings. I know this is cliche, but I hate mornings. When I first wake up, I consider light to be not just a bane, but an enemy, one towards which I hold a deep, abiding and intensely personal grudge. My body and mind are geared toward a life spent in the twilight hours, and waking is an affront to everything I hold dear (by which I mean my sleep). There is a feeling, as one feels the acid of daylight drip into ones eyes, that the impudent waveicles are laughing, even snickering as they pry away at the bliss of unconscious thought.
And now I'm going to bed, to continue the fight anew come tomorrow.

Thing a Week 38: Kind of a Ripoff.

So this is way late, and kind of a rip off as well. sorry bout that.

Anyway, a while ago I revealed to the world one of the most beautiful pieces of prose ever to grace the eyes of man, the likes of which i never imagined could be seen again lest the concentrated Glory of two such masterpieces existing on the same plane of existence should cause the world to crumble into specks of PURE AWE. As my readers may have guessed, I was wrong. and thus, I once again present to you, my readers:

Dragon-Star Revengeant

Book 1 in the Dawn of the SanguiBorn Octohuplet

In the black caves of Gorsungurd, a typical child is born to typical filthy peasant parents. A typical child, yes... BUT WITH A MOST ATYPICAL FUTURE!!!!!!!! for it is in his destiny to become the Scion of the Dragon-Star, the mystic relic that it is prophesied will someday destroy the cruel overlord of Mal Gr'imm'r, Zal Naw'tieF'elah. But how can he fulfill his destiny...

WHEN THE VERY RELIC THAT COULD SAVE THE WORLD MAY ITSELF BE EVIL!!!

Available in every book selling outlet, ever.

Rave reviews from some newspapers or something!

"Anderson has continued to write... a book" (Circus Purview)

"This new piece from fantasies most torturous new author has... some highlights. An absolutely... new story." (Starred review)



I probably enjoy writing things like this more than I ought to.