Thursday, July 24, 2014

Heroic Chicks on Battle Chickens

I'm lying here, listening to the rain. Clouds are bumping uglies, making sparks fly. I explain to my frightened daughter that clouds are huge, and yell at each other to get out of the way. I miss my parent's house, the sliding doors in the kitchen that give a beautiful view to thunderstorms on summer nights.

I've been rewatching Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, and wishing I had it in me to be so arrogant an author. Still working on the rewrite that's taking forever, but my characters needed better motivation. I can't think of the word without remembering Drill Sergeants screaming it at me, that I wasn't motivated enough. I can remember so many things. I'll probably get Alzheimer's when I'm older.

What if a person's left hearing aid was modulated up three half-steps, and the right up a fifth? Would they then hear their universe as a progression of minor chords? Would it drive them to insanity and depression?

Watching the end of Heavy Metal on Netflix. My daughter plays with her naked Barbie riding on a My Little Pony Pegasus, named Starry Farts, or something like that, and I'm reminded of Taarna from the end of the film. Of course I haven't shown it to her, I have SOME parenting abilities. Also, Taarna rides a giant chicken. (Hence my humble sketch.)

Take care, my friends.


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