Sometimes I am torn by grief. I am literally twisted. My head is going in one direction, my heart is going another, body is frightened, so very frightened of being just a body. I want to cry, I want to beg the world for more time, more intelligence, I want to call everybody I know and tell them I love them, I have always loved them, I am sorry I was angry with them. For sooo long I've had daddy issues, but they were issues of a foolish teenager, rebellious and undereducated. There is so much to know in this world. I come from such a small town. From a country that hates everything about everybody. We have all the freedom and almost no taste. We want to be America, with our feet still in the horseshit, in the stable. My work gets stolen all the time, discredited, ignored - people would rather fuck themselves than pay twenty bucks for a photo. And I am nothing, I am nobody. I can never be good enough, because only socially interesting people become famous and I am not. Because I prefer to read and paint.

Jodorowsky was not a nobody, he was an everybody and his Dune was like a primeval deity from which all the monumental, politically correct kings of the sci-fi movies spawned. He had to be kept in the trenches so that America could have their Spielbergs and Lucases and Scotts. I could never be truly great, because I cannot steal big enough. If his Dune script book fell into my lap, I wouldn't know what to do with it. Okay, I do. I’d apologize for the inconvenience and make sure I returned it to him. Because I am not an animal. I am but a tiny spec of consciousness, drifting through an ocean of stars. True, there is the ink and there is the camera, but there are no eyes to see my work - they are all averted to the new tits of whoever’s on a red carpet. It hurts to see my work stolen, but that man must have suffered and still suffers to see his work raped. Good thing he has a lot of humor and some good drugs. Or at least I hope so. He seems happy enough when confronted with journalists. I’m half his age. So does it get better from here on or only harder?

Another long, looong day. Some hefty ups, some sticky downs. Negotiations for the pickies continue. I am such a restless creature.

Stepping out of the house with Lyra, on my way to doggie walk, I ran straight into Niko, whom I was confused by at the Wednesday rehearsal, because he was condescending and seemed bothered by having to be there. That was a bit of a WTF? But I am always happy to see him, and we walked the length of the longest street in the early morning, which felt like a good start of a long day.
(Yes, I knew it was going to be a long day.)

Gran had an interview for the local newspaper and I was with her, so the photographer wanted to take pickies of both and I felt terrible. I now have a whole new appreciation for the models. But good Gods the sound that camera makes. Forgive me, Markie, you are the most beautiful, but your big brother is simply impressive.

Upon getting home, the phone rang again and the journalist from the same newspaper asked for an interview, which I am now sorry I gave. Not because she would be unfriendly, because the lady was very friendly and a joy to talk to, but because they offered me between 7 and 21 euros for the photograph. The piece was about someone who managed to publish a pic in NG and they celebrated me by asking for the photo in exchange for 7 to 21 euros.They were hoping I would add it to the text for free. I could just see it: in the end it would just be the photo, as it "is such a cool photo" and my tiny name somewhere in the deep end.

Playing WoW is very hard, since the servers have been merged, because there seemed to be just enough players for it a few months back, but now so many people are trying to play at the same time, it takes an hour to log in, lagging is glacier-like and the matrix continues to sink through, characters falling though the graphics, the DC imminent. I love the game, it's awesome, I just can't play it. Friday night, lol.

G took me out for waffles and coke, a tiny date, after a long day. I had an odd craving for strawberries, although I almost never like them. I waited for him in a bookstore and saw another book I am going to buy, when I get my hands on some money. It should be a perfect book for the fair. (Ye, I got into the fair. Yeh.)

The woman, the cleaning lady, who gave the interview, suddenly decided she doesn't want it published. If there is something that disheartens me, is people telling me to disregard something after I've spent a fucking eon making it. Like what the bloody fuck is wrong with people?
It was what made me want to undo the interview, except that i would do it before it's written down, edited and ready for print.

I was going to meet two women tomorrow, as a coffee date, in another city, and one decided, in the evening beforehand, that she'd rather sleep in. I feel stupid for seeking company. In the end of the day, and, oh, it has been such a very long day, all I really want is to crawl into the General's palm and sleep, sleep. I don't like the real world. It's hard and cold. I like my own, where everything is in an unusually perfect balance and everything makes sense.

The roe deer photos...

Well.
I was going to write about the Warcraft expansion G brought home today and we updated my game after about a year or so that I haven't had time or money to play.
But I managed to play for about, oh, five minutes.
The rest of the time I have been bargaining for the photos.
With international agencies.
Which want them.
Want to buy them.
It has actually been a really messed up day. I was totally not prepared for the pressures of ten-minute fame. It's really hard to focus on business and career while you have a new Warcraft expansion fresh off the shelf, just having loaded on your new computer (with serious graphics....)

O.o

Just there.

Two weeks before the winter fair and I am still not feeling it. I promised the General I'll be loving every minute of it, but somehow, today, it's still just not there. There are images in my head that may look cute, translated onto paper, but the hands feel heavy and the mind wanders.

                 We had another okay rehearsal tomorrow, except for one of the people in a small role acting like all of it is stupid. I wish people didn't do that. Be on for the ride or don't be, but don't drag your feet and voice it in front of others. It felt mean, just a little. 

                 The spread for National Geographic came in and they're going for the detail cut as opposed to studio shot. The cut is bad as a photo. It feels like they're intentionally choosing something that looks like a lucky shot as opposed as something done by a professional. I'll post both at some point. I just don't get it. The interviews are lagging and Drej jinxed me, saying I should only post one a week. The attempt to post all three has now been three weeks in the making, so ... I need to pray to the spirit of Henry Mayhew, which is of course done by writing good interviews. But at least I've gotten some money yesterday and am now eating a very good sandwich.

                 To quote Bilbo, I'm not feeling spread too thin, just ... watered down. I know that every year i start to question my photography skills and my drawing skills and my writing skills, an evolution as on time as clockworks. The winter then drains me gray and in spring, I am energized again. Don't think about the things you doubt when you're in a bad mood - I know, I know. I'm just ranting. 

Word I love this week: cadence.
Word I don't like: caucus. It sounds like people fighting, for some reason.

Interstellar... As if I haven't been freaked out about time as it was....

Well. Other than being spooky, regarding passage of time, which is still one of the great horrors for me to comprehend and accept, like Jeremy said, it was Lincoln Lawyer in space. Don't get me wrong - a behemoth of a movie, but only if I haven't already seen

Shphere

The Cube

Event Horizon

some dumb Mars movie, Red Planet, I think,

another dumb Mars movie, Mission to Mars or something

Odyssey 2001

Contact

Signs

Lucy

Gravity

Elysium

Hitchhikers' guide TTG

and I don't know how many other movies that I saw, 

then the plot might not have been entirely predictable. 

But okay, so the plot was predictable and pretty much everyone loses, though it makes a great effort to bring home a happy ending. Also for some reason, although she is awfully lovely, I cannot get Jessica Chastain's acting. Truly, any other A actress could do her performance better. Even Anne Hathaway, which is so weird to watch as a calm scientist, even if she cut her hair like Sandra Bullock in Gravity, was more plausible. Dunno, just the casting of this movie bothered me. Except the robots. Robots are awesome. Marvin FDW.

What I think would make a really good movie, and in no way because I'm a negative person, would be the scene in which her brother comes from the burning field, just as she figures out the wristwatch, and in some stupid pushing around, he would shoot her in the stomach and kill her. That way humanity would be done for, but Brandt would re-populate her lover's barren wasteland alone. It would be really, really sad, but it would make for a much better story.

Loved the first planet, though. The waves? And the fact the time brought them in, so that they just missed the first scientist by few minutes? Fucked up! :D

My phone and my net are off, meaning I gotsta go to a cafe to access mail, but as I have no money, I am drinking tea for coins. Good Gods but tea is a ghastly substitute for coffee... Anyways, as I am not constantly tempted with the net, evil illusion, I have gotten an amazing amount of work done over the weekend. The third season of Newsroom has begun and I just haven't the time or means to care. The upcoming interviews are awesome and will be posted as soon as, well, I get the fucking net back.

Meanwhile, am reading a cool book about historical journalism "The Art of Fact", loving the ... fact that, what I am trying to do, was a lot harder and a lot more effective, thorough a lot more grief, before my time. Henry Mayhew was awesome. Though I've only gotten as far as Walt Whitman. Am looking forward to the guys closer to my era.

How fucking hard must it be to start a war??

Have all but finished writing the tale of woe for... Goose, I think. I dunno. It does and does not fit. Yet. It is a story about Cole going back in time in Fantasy land, to investigate an assault on an Elf prince, but the kicker is, this all takes place about 400 years before any of them have ever met. So, more important than the investigation into the nature of hate crimes, is the opportunity for the gang to meet all pf those people they'll later a) lose in Startracker or b) lose their loved ones BEACUSE of these people in Startracker battle. Namely Spiff. Spiff doesn't feature in Goose, other than a mention, nor did he ever feature much in the previous books. So, legends aside, do I want an opportunity to, quite with easy and comfortable language to it, explain by example why Spiff was the key player in the destruction of the Pagans, come his time?
Probably. I am a sucker for the retrograde. 

Cream moustage for a coffee endorsement

If you shot a coffee shot with yourself or someone sporting a cream moustache, supposedly you get a free coffee :D Klavdija posed and I took like a hundred pics. :D The coffee was great too and we'll see if someday we win another :P

Making some pickies, trooper weekend

Saturday was sunny and lovely, Day of the Dead. Dead dead, not living dead. Though National Geographic made sure to keep up and fronted an article about zombies - the real world ones, insects and parasites. I haven't read it yet, because that is one of the few things left in this world I cannot face - the concept of my body being used to grow another thing, protruding my skin, eating on my brain until I am a puppet. Conscious, but having to exist only to comprehend there is nothing that can save me anymore. Some parasites are not survivable. It just freaks me out too much. Am working on it. 

I've had popcakes and coffee with My Maja, basking in the library cafe, then I joined the General's family to go to the cemetery. They visit several graves to light a candle and then there's a mass where everyone stands before their departed family and I don't know what exactly happens, but I suppose people pray Our Father. I was counting the cars in the field, dubbing as a parking lot. There were about 340 and out of those 20 were red and 6 were green. Some moved.

We walked to the site, so lunch wasn't destructive on my stamina and the walk back was nice, too, very warm and scenic. I did some drawings for the possible fair (still think they'll skip me on principle, even though I am the only one who sells greeting cards), then went to the movies with Maja to watch Equalizer. (It was the only half decent thing on at the time.) It was okay. Bit brutal. General watched it when I went to see Gone Girl and said mine was more icky. I've had words with him about it since. 

Sunday, though we stringed excuses against it, morning came and we decided to go hunting. This is where my trooper bit comes in. My new hiking shoes are still hurting me, so we dug out some very old but oddly amazing army shoes of mine from day long past. Those were some good shoes! It was mine and Lyra's first communal hunt of the season and it was great. Us, the chasers, had to walk though a field of some fucking voluptuous plant, soaked in fog and dew, so in no time we were soaked in fog and dew and my clothes were dripping. It was bitchy cold, but not as long as we were moving. We had to cross an oddly high water for the season, which was another example of 'how to get amazingly wet very quickly'. But still, I was long it. Wasn't that cold or that wet since basic training. Lyra did great, she sniffed out deer from the swamp shrubbery like a pro. Though of course deer run really, REALLY freakishly amazingly fast and Lyra has very short legs, so that was that for her ability versus enthusiasm. I walked too close to the line between the field and the forest, where the thick swamp growth was and consequently the animals were hiding and almost got hit by emerging deer twice before I decided I would be better off at some distance. Those things are completely invisible until you are practically standing on top of them. Amazing little fuckers. 

Some people I was with got bored and cold and slacky, so I separated and decided to explore the forest onwards, which proved to be the right call, as the hunt was nowhere near over and only another half hour inwards was where the General was stationed, in camouflage and all hardcore sexy like a hunter of the deep dark woods. (Sexy to the max, though not at all prolific.) I went on, stomping out the fart shrooms, which give off a dusty cloud of spores. I like to consider myself involved in procreation of fungi. Makes me feel environmentally important.

Back, soaked, I changed my shoes and we had brunch at his family, then went home and did not much for the rest of the day. WoW expansion beta is on, with bonus play days, which guys took advantage of and I watched West Wing and drew some more. Am transcribing the cleaning lady interview and reading Van Gogh's letter to his brother... Though you really never can take that seriously again, after having read Woody Allen's take on the  lot.At some point, while General was soaking in boiling bath, Lyra started to act summat crazy, shaking her head and whining, like something got into her ear and was agitating her. We checked and still she was going around completely restless. Not in pain, just extremely... Euphoric. Once we allowed her to nap in our day room, she was perfectly fine, but while in her kennel, she was nuts. Her energy is awesome - last year after the first hunt she was out for days.

So, it was a weekend of good food, good sex, good books and TV, great company, great outdoors and some very, very wet old army boots. And some chalk drawings :D