I say this in all seriousness and without even a hint of wacky jokiness or irony: you are the world’s worst human being. If someone brought Hitler back from the dead with the necronomicon, built rusty steam-punk weaponry into his face and set him loose upon the world, I would still choose to murder you in your infancy over him. I hope someone forcibly violates your mouth-hole with a rusty plumbers wrench covered in Icy Hot no-mess vapor gel until you wretch your fetid, ugly soul onto your computer monitor, short-circuiting the whole mess and thereby granting it artificial inteligence and magic electricity powers to wreck havoc on your shitty, godless life. You putrescent liberal. You’ll never be the man your mother is.

 

I’m still laughing over the line “you’ll never be the man your mother is.” I have to save that and use it in game sometime. :)

I also need to balance the blog and the artwork more. Rather than have a separate art site, I would like to have my portfolio here, so I need to split the balance between the blog and the art. (I keep getting asked for links to my art site, and no one seems satisfied with my deviantART portfolio.)

Maybe this weekend. Maybe not…at the thought of redoing it I seem to be filled with a deep sense of lassitude and boredom. I am such a slacker.

The Anachronism (Full Film) from Anachronism Pictures on Vimeo.

The Anachronism is an award-wining Steampunk short about two children who discover the wreck of a giant squid submarine on a beach near their home.

“A Beautiful Steampunk Vision comes to life” – QUIET EARTH

“The Anachronism is more than worth the 15 minutes you need to set aside to watch it.” – GIZMODO

“We want to live in this Robot Squid Submarine” – IO9

“As haunting as it is beautiful.” – THE DAILY GUMBOOT

“Very wonderfully designed.” – MAKING THE MOVIE

Visit www.theanachronism.com for more information (Under Construction)

Read! No, cake! :D Died a lot of advertising that sells used ladies’ undies. Life is strange.

I really don’t remember writing about used ladies’ undies…life is strange, indeed.

I’m quite anal about the way that I treat my books; I have to open them properly, starting from the outside and fanning out sections one at a time. I always use bookmarks – aside from on supermarket trash paperbacks which I treat with terrible disrespect, as they won’t be staying on my shelves for a re-read. They’re clandestine dalliances for dirty weekends, and before I’m finished they’ll be dogeared and filled with crumbs. They aren’t taken home to meet the parents.

Anyway, I take my books seriously.

There are two high-street chain bookshops in the same section of the town centre where I work, and they couldn’t be more different. One is bright and open, with room to stand or sit and read a few pages. It’s a chain store, but all of the staff love books and are happy to discuss their favourites. The other is cramped, with dim flourescent lights on the ceiling. The books aren’t displayed in logical sections, and it’s hard to find anything. Most importantly, they don’t give you bags. Now, I’m used to supermarket clerks here in the UK looking at you as though you’re personally responsible for killing polar bears if you don’t have your crunchy-granola canvas bags to take your groceries home in. But books – !!! Expensive new books, and they expect me to carry them home in my hands in the perpetual English rain. Soulless bastards, every one, and I only shop there when I am forced to.

There’s a third shop, worse still. This is an old-fashioned shop full of dark wood, where you can barely squeeze between the towering wooden shelves, and shorties like me can only reach the first few shelves. It would be quite a cool shop if they sold used books, but it is another retail book store (so in a totally non-logical way I feel vaguely ripped off that I am paying full price). The owner of the store is an older man with a terrible disposition. Okay, that is a wild guess…he might be a wonderful old character and I am missing out by not speaking to him. From his sour expression and the way that he glares at me, though, I would doubt it. Perhaps I look like a shoplifter. I think I look like an average approaching-middle-age woman, but what do I know about the shoplifter demographic? Perhaps I fit a certain profile of ladies who like to spice up their lives by stealing books. Hhmph.

This is why I will never own a Kindle at the expense of having all my well-loved books around me. I love the feel of holding a book, from browsing shiny new books at the bookstore all the way to home and my upstairs room, which has midnight blue walls, a Victorian fireplace and squashy chair, and all the shelves of books like the smallest library in the world. It’s also my computer room, and I love it. It’s one of my favourites places to be.