Sunday, October 30

Just because I haven't...

Allright folks, I guess there's only one way to discribe this.

I'm nucking futs.

I've signed up to participate in National Novel Writing Month.

Now, I've never written a novel before in my life. I don't even know HOW to write a novel.

But, life be ######...I'm writing a novel.

In 30 days. On TOP of my strip, on TOP of my duties to my drumline program...

Because...I'm crazy I guess.

I have NO idea what I'm going to write about. No idea what the story is going to be, and NO idea how I'm going to do this.

But, ya know what, everyone should try something different? Non?


So, wish me luck that I can finish this.


Friday, October 28

Making art for fun and profit....

Some rather interesting news...

I stopped by the screen printing shop today to check on the hold up on the shirts. The manager assured me...ASSURED me that the final screens will be set up on Sunday, and the first run of prints for pre orders WILL be ready to go out on Monday.

And THEN, he did something I didn't expect.

He told me he looked over my site, and was rather impressed by the art. Moreso, he asked me if I'ld be interested doing some freelance work for his shop.

And for the FIRST time in my life...I'm looking at getting PAID for doing something I love to do. I could actually make a CARREAR out of doing something I love.

Now let me explain a little here.

I went to school to teach music. Because I LOVE music. I love the power that exists in music.

Music is emotion...pure...raw...viscerial emotion. I love classical music...well...not all classical music.

I LOVE instrumental music that grabs you by the balls and twists. Music that can turn you from utter peace to pure rage in an instant.

I love music that fires me up. Which is why I love Jazz. Yes, I love Miles Davis, but Miles Davis isn't's Miles.

Jazz is Stan Kenton, Jazz is Buddy Rich, Jazz is the music that you listen to and feel your heart beat so fast that you can scarecly breath.

THAT'S JAZZ. To me, it's the pure, unadulterated emotion of life.

But I DON'T teach music...I teach drum corps. And I do it for free, because to ME, it's so important to show young people just how amazing, how absolutly bloody spectacular that side of music is.

And I do a damned good job of it.

But I don't get paid for it. I get paid for running a television and radio station.

And it's an allright job. It pays most of the bills. Makes certain I can afford to take some trips out of me a few little adventures here and there.

But I most certainly do not LOVE working for television and radio. To me, it's pointless work with absolutly no reward beyond a paycheck.

What I LOVE doing is creating art. I love crafting stories that resonate with people. And I hope to do that for a living some day.

And THIS...this little piece of freelance work excites me. Because in a round about way, it's telling me I COULD actually make...well...making ART a paying gig.

Yeah, freelancing sucks. BUT, it provides me with more opportunities.

Now I'm NOT going to get my hopes up to high. But it is something that I did want to share....because I'm bloody frigging excited at this prospect.


Wednesday, October 26

The Tempest:

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.

I don't know HOW many script revisions I've done to the tempest. On first count...I think it's been 7. Possibly more then that...I've just lost count.

But I've FINALLY nailed down everything. Placed all my words just right.

I have 9 pages done...the first 8 and the last.

I FINALLY have my script right for page 9.

And page 10 is pretty close to being in the can.

All because Chris is Chris...

When you walk through a storm
hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.

Reading comics for fun

Found another little comic that speaks to me...

Think...addams family. Focusing on a 6 year old devil girl.

Tuesday, October 25

Mondays are the Best Nights of the Week...

Because Monday's are bastard nights, and bastard nights are good nights.

So, last night, Bastard Night, I wound up going out bar hopping. Bloody fucking odd situation to fall into I'll say.

But it rather went down like this:

I run over for my normal Monday night ritual, free wings at Space Aliens with my drum line staff.

So, our waitress comes by, I flash the bastard smile, order a killians and call her "love"...which, is completly innocent in my book.

And my drum guy just gives me this"WHAT THE FUCK HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?"

"What I say with a laugh".

"That's the third waitress this week that I've heard you say 'thanks love' to".

"What, it's's perfectly acceptable."

"We're not in England."

"True, but I was raised on a lot of Monty Python and BBC imported over on PBS."

"It's just weird, would you be comfortable with me calling the waitress 'sweetheart' or 'pumpkin'?"

"Sweetheart I could see, Pumpkin would be pushing it."

"And stop smiling."


"You don't smile...what is're all..."


"It's just scary, I'm not use to it."

I make a serious face and say "Is this better?"

He looks at tme and laughs..."Yeah."

I smile again "Well, sorry to throw you for a're just going to have to get use to it."

Then my Color Guard guy shows up...and he brings two friends with him.

The next thing I know Lurch (my drum guy) takes off and, It's myself, Craig, Carissa, and Aubrea (Aubrea, poor poor girl, who names their daughter Aubrea outside of England?). Bar hopping our way down downtown Fargo.

And I must say, I had a blast. Morgan and Whisky drinks were two for one at just about every place we went. After 4 I begun to lose count...which I think was halfway through the first bar.

Before I know it, I'm in the basement bar of the Fargo strip club (no strippers, couldn't cover ALL the bases of debauchery that night)...but good bloody hell was it fun.

And most of all, I got to whip out the charming bastard hat all night long. I discovered that Carissa is a fellow web cartoonist who draws a strip called Alex Bea Zoe. I even got her to write her phone number IN LIPSTICK (an absolute FIRST for me) and to kiss the card that she wrote it on.

What can I say, it's good to have the old bastard back.

The weird thing is...I had a moment of syncronicity again tonight...and syncronicity is really begining to piss me off. As I'm enjoying my third purple penetrator at the basement bar...I hear a song that takes the wind out of my sails and reminds me of someone...and I cant help but smile, and goddam dispair.

And I'm this reminder, that I need to leave the bar. Just to "get some air" as I tell them grabbing my cigarette case.

I'm begining to wonder if I'm developing a bit of Apophenia...pulling together completly unrelated things and seeing threads where there are none.

Bloody hell...

Anway, next Monday is Halloween...which means...well it's halloween.

I get to wear my horns. And I'm looking foreward to it.


Saturday, October 22

I think I'm in love

From The Devil's Panties

Jennie, call me, we'll do lanch.

Friday, October 21

Bloody Wonderfull Chris, and other stories.


Allright, I have about half of part 8 of this story done. Part 7 should have been it...but then...

Chris pulled something on me. Something I didn't really expect, but something that's just so true to Chris now that I understand her that...well...I couldn't leave it out.

And now I have 11 pages. 3 more pages to do (although that may get expanded...because it's Chris...bloody fucking wonderfull Chris).

And I think to myself...why, why won't you just do what I want. And I realize, she's not there yet.

Bloody fucking wonderful Chris indeed.

So this story is most likely running until November.

In other news...

I had a moment where my life scarily imitated my life.

I got a call to have dinner with a friend of mine. It was free pizza night at a local bar, and who am I to turn down a free meal.

So we get there, and I have a beer, and have my fill of pizza, and I wait for my tab.

And my waitress completly forgets about us.

So I wait for five minutes, and she still doesn't come by.

So I walk down to the Bar, put on a slight brittish accent, and say "Hey luv, did ya forget about me tab?"

She goes doe eyed on me and laughs. She winds up handing my credit card to another waitress and waitress number two goes to ring me up.

I go back to my table and wait for it. Waitress number two comes down, and cant find me till I wave her over like you would an old friend.

She hands me the tab, I make charming small talk and make her blush.

And my friend just stares at me and says "You're to friendly."

I get an odd look on my face, and go "What"

And he says "Who are you and what did you do with Jason?"

I had to chuckle

Friday, October 14


Allright, I'm just going to say this now.


I've been tooning for what feels like days straight. Little rest, very little rest. My hands hurt from drawing so much.

But I feel like I HAVE to get this part out.

And a part of me is disapointed.

I had to cut a LOT of the dialog to condense this down into seven pages. Some of it feels too...hurried for my tastes.

The pacing feels...wrong in some parts. And I wish I could change it...but I cant. I simply don't have the time.

Which I'm keeping in mind for the next time I do one of these.

The good news is...that the pages that I'm happy with...

Damn I like em.

I like them a HELL of a lot. And I REALLY hope you do too...

Friday, October 7

No no no, this simply will not do.


I've been reading over this, and I realize I didn't do my NYC trip justice. I wrote a 10,000 page essay on a sleepy trip to the middle of nowhere Minnesota, but, for a two week adventure to the city that never sleeps...I wrote nothing.

Bullshit I say.

I journaled my travels..I may as well share them.

Day One:

I make my final arrangements to leave this sleepy little burg of Fargo North Dakota at 1:am. My bags have been packed for two days, I double check my list for the thrid time. And I wait by the computer, hoping to catch someone online. I look at my notepad. She called before, her numbers on my caller ID...Should I? She's probibly sleeping...most likely had an adventure of her own and called it a night. And I KNOW, she's got a grand adventure of her own coming up, and could use all the rest she can get.

Buggar it, I think, I want to call, to hear her voice one last time before I leave.

1:10. I wish her a safe trip. I's going to be one hell of an adventure.

I walk the mile to the Fargo Am-Trak station, it takes me about 15 minutes. Upon arrival I iscover my train is delayed by an hour and a half. I check my bag, an oversized sports bag that contains enough clothes for 2 weeks of adventures and my trusty cricket bat. My traveling bag, a canvas shoulder case chocked full of art supplies, film, and books will be comeing with me on the train. I sit in an uncomfortable terminal seat. Shrug off exhuation with excitement, and prepair for a nap.

My nap never comes, I'm too buzzed.

By 2 AM I decide to get some air, walking in the still Fargo night I make my way to a corner gas station a few blocks away. Newpaper men are deliving the dailys. I buy orange juice and milk duds. I make the walk back with the tangy bite of OJ on my lips, and light up a cigarette. My adventure hasn't even started yet and I feel like a 10 year old...excited, full of vigor, ready to see the world anew.

The train arrives at 4:00..I board and take my seat. It remeinds me much of my youth, traveling the country by charter bus...seeing town after town sprawling by...but it's refreshingly different. The sway to the train is gentle...rocking back and forth like the waves on an ocean liner. Towns that I've passed by a hundred times seem new, exciting. Seeing them from this new angle...elevated, on the top car of a double decker train wonderfully humbling.

I cant sleep...I toss and turn and I cant sleep. And it dawns on me, this...this...strange sense of enlightenment. Every moment in my life, every little piece of the puzzle.

It's leading me to New York city. I can think back to when I was 8 years old, and realize that events in my child hood have paved the way to this grand adventure, that relationships, hope, dreams, insignificant conversations all begin to take on a certain clarity to me.

For once, I feel as if I'm able to see the grand clockwork mechanisms of my life assembled in a stunning and pristine precision.

I think of her, and I smile...this woman who gave me an adventure bigger then anything I've EVER had. Someone who was forcing me to experiance wonder beond anything I had ever experianced. And all I could think of is that I wanted her here to share it.

Daybreak came at 6 AM. I was quickly pushing 24 hours. I stare out at the landscape, centeral minnesota wakes to the sunrise in deep royal blues and vivid creamy oranges. There's a mist that hangs in the air, covering this land of midnight blue pine trees and terrifingly tranquil lakes with a lilac blanket.

Magnificent. Heavenly.

St. Cloud Minnesota wisks away during breakfast. I share a half an hour with sisters Julie and Barb. Two sisters with a passion for trains, who hae seen the world from coach cars. Europe, Aisia...they tell adventures that sound like the backstories of characters in a spy novel. Our porter, Deanne, gives us his shares of stories. His life has been lived on trains, with more adventures then any man should be allowed to have.

And I realize, that my life has become terribly empty, because I've not had a good adventure for far, far to long. My life of duity and responsibility has kept me from what I loved. Traveling, seeing the world...finding these places of wonder.

I head to my seat with a full stomach and a head reeling with the sense of wonder that the world has to offer. I'm tired, very tired, and take a short little hour nap, I wake in Minneapolis, wisking away to the St. Paul station.

I have a smoke, look at the town, and in minutes I'm back on the train, heading for places uncharted.

We travel through Winnona Minnesota, a town that I haven't had the privelage of visiting before, and there, through my window, I spy a rock monolith that screams out in defiance to the red cliffs that slumber with their blankets of emerald green pine trees below it. Some day, I think I should like to see the world from that perch, and gaze down upon this magnificant land.

The roads here are red, dirty, brick red, which is a marverlous change from the dusty brownish grey that I am use to.

We cross the Missippi, and find ourselves barreling towards Wisconsin.

The next thing I know, I'm in the Dells. I haven't seen the dells in over 5 years, the yellow rocks sculpted into alien forms by the most gentle river you can ever see. I feel at home in this familiarity, yellow roads wisk by, Oak and poplar trees line our path.

In Milwakee, there's another smoke break, and I depart to view the city that I lived in ever so breifly in my last big summer of adventure. It's dirty, industrial, and ever so humble in it's working class ethic. I think of Roman Belenski, the man who gave me a home and a place to spend my last wonderfull year of my youth. God bless that man.

4:00, I hit Chicago. My train is 2 hours late, and my expected stop over of 4 hours has dwindled to an hour and a half. I follow the river, making certain that I know my way back to the station. My meanderings bring me to the "Around the Corner" bar and grill, I sit down, and ask for a sapphire martini, only to be informed by the blonde waitress that they're out of Bombay. I ask for belvadere and find my luck likewise ill. So I order a quickly becomes three, and I quickly find myself ordering a sausage, pepper, and egg sandwitch. What comes to my table is the most insane combination of fat, vegetables, and chees that I have ever consumed. My heart starts waiving a white flag of surrender.

We leave Chicago just as the sun begins it's fatal arc into nightfall. Illonois is simply North Dakota with trees and tall buildings. I'm still in the midwest as I fall into my slumber.

Day Two:

I remember waking in Ohio, hours before the world would, and fondly remembering a previous adventure among the cornfields outside of Toledo.

I was 18, and touring with a drum corps. Ironically that adventure was also marked with someone special in my life. Her name was Christine, she'ld be the first woman I ever truely loved. The first person who...made me complete.

Relationships are funny things. Most of my life has been defined by them. And through my travels, through my adventures, I've discovered that the good ones, the truely great ones that burn with a firey passion in my mind, are the ones in which SHE brings something to the table that I do not posess.

It could just come from my buddhist understanding of the universe. That life is not a one sided ordeal. Rather it's a dicotomy.

I am a quiet individual, no, that's not entirely true.

I'm a wolf. That's the best summation of my character. I can be a loner, and survive quite well, but I enjoy running with a small, tighnit pack. When I'm in unfamiliar teritory, I tend to be more submissive. I'll circle, smell the air, try to get a feel for people, and then, once I do, I open up, and run with them...and...eventually, take my place as the leader of the pack.

MY dicotomy is someone who's the opposite of the lone wolf. Someone who is firey and passionate and outgoing. However, my bane is that I'm NOT outgoing at first. I tend to sniff the air, understand the pack, and gradually work my way in.

Christine was the first person I ever met who balanced out my equation. She was incredably firey, quick to act, very independant. I tended to balance her out, to give her a chance to slow down.

And ten years later, I can still look back at that summer and smile.

But that is a story for another time.

I slept intermittetly throughout Ohio and Pennsylvania. Towns flew by as I entered New York State, Albany, Rochester, Buffalo...and then, we found the Hudson river, and I fell in love.

The Hudson cuts a great grean swath through the Catskills. And the Catskills are absolutly breathtaking. Lumbering green giants that slumber nestled amid a winding ribbon of emerald river. Huge iron bridges that span the horizon criss cross as you venture past. Forest, so rich and lush with vegetation that you cant see anything but green.

I watched in awe as we sped past, rocketing towards New York City. Realizing for the first time in a VERY long time, that I was about to see something that I had never witnessed before.

New York greete me with grafitti as I entered into Penn Station. The arrival is dirty, with disgarded refridgerators and half burned tires littering the landscape of factories.

But Penn Station is a wonder upon itself, a self contained community of resturants, shops, and people, running to and fro from one end of the country to another. A thousand languages buzzed past my ears, a million voices stumbled into my mind, seeping every pore with a grand sense of activity.

I called my friends, who would be providing me with housing for the greater duration of my trip, and got directions to get picked up...and calmly I made my way into the greater world of New York City.

To be continued...

New York greeted me with Madison Square garden. Loud, noisy, frantic. I made my way around the building, trying to get my orientation.

North...I need to head NORTH, and then EAST. Bloody fucking easier to do with trees and fucking moss.

I asked someone on a street corner the way to Avenue of the Americas, and discover that New York people feel remarkably like Midwestern people when asking for directions.

New York is a city that feels like it was built for me. The pace feels right. People walk briskly, making their way through crowded streets, and for some reason, the pace feels right. Canyons of buildings make the city streets raging torrents of excitement.

And I feel oddly at home in all of this. The adventure, the excitement. It feels RIGHT to me.

I make my way up 7th past Macey's till I reach 47th and make my way over to the Avenue of The Americas.

When I arive my friend gives me two choices, I can spend the evening in the big apple, hit a resturant, and do some tourist stuff...or I can simply go home and shower.

Since I had been wearing the same underware for over 3 days now, the decision was fairly easy to make.

We take the subway to the financial district, and I chuckle at the Our Lady of The Holy Rosary chapel, defiantly giving the finger to the monsterous towers that flank it.

We take the Statin Island Ferry to his house, I look out to the specticled jewel that is New York City, gleaming in blue in the darkening sky. The statue of liberty winks at me seductivly as I pass her.

It's going to be a good week.

My first full day in the city includes my discovery that New York get's public transit right. We hop an express bus into the city, take a subway to midtown, and I'm left to fend for myself in the city that never sleeps.

First up, St. Pat's Cathedral. I was raised Catholic, and I've always had a special fondness for old cathederals and holy spaces. St. Pats rises to reach the heavens with glorious archetecture. Across the street I spy Atlas, cast in art deco, holding aloft the world...and it strikes me as the ultimate irony, pagan and catholic staring each other down. Only in New York could I see the clean stylized lines of art deco cast in the image of the greek heros, face to face with the growing spirals of gothic archetecture.

I make my way south and stop in the Barnes and Noble in Rocafella Center. I pick up a NY city map, complete with landmarks, and begin navigating my way to Bryant Park and the Empire state. I pass by the New York Public Library, and debate running down the front steps just like Dr. Veinkman in the opening scene of Ghostbusters.

A clearer head prevails and I move my way towards the state building.

The wait at the state building is nowhere near as bad as I anticipate. I make my way up through to the elevators and enjoy the most breathaking view of the world that america has to offer.

Tuesday, October 4

"I think of a man, and I take away reason and accountability."

I think I need to stop writing when I'm at the point of exhaustion...I become a fucking emotional wreck and everything just starts flying out like flying monkeys if the wicked witch of the west was suffering from a case of explosive diaherrah...

So, I'm writting ahead a little bit, trying to get scripts done for strips so I can have an unadulterated birthday bash weekend down in Minneapolis.

And as I'm shaping things up, I KNEW that I'ld be writing something MAJOR for the 21st.

I mean MAJOR.

Well, as I get going on it, I realize that this is going to be a mega-strip.

I'm talking at least 3 pages. Most likely it will be JUST as large as the Guardian Devil strip...and just as emotional, if not more so.


UGH UGH UGH...why do the simply plot driven strips HAVE to be a major project full of complex characters and emotions that just DRAIN me down.

When I write things like the "Guardian Devil" strip, or the "WOW" strip, or even something as simple as the "Tempting" strip. I wind up acting out the parts, I wind up talking them out..feeling these characters, their pain, their emotional states....

And this one...fucking hurts.

I HURT writing this one. I HURT feeling what these characters will be going through. IT...

Christ, maybe I'm writing this one a little TOO close to home for my own good.

Yes, there will be some extreme language in this. And this time, it's not coming from Chris.

Goddamn...Forgive me's not going to be pretty, but it's going to be GOOD...damn good.

Monday, October 3

Scamming...part deux

Yes, I recieve a LOT of IM spam....a LOT.

Frankly, it pisses me off.

So, as an attempt to give scammers the finger...I'm posting my "Scam a Bastard" logs here, this one was rather boring.

lisajoness007: hello
lisajoness007: how are you doing?
Me not bad
Me: so, what can I do ya for?
lisajoness007: your name pls?
Me: It's Jason...
lisajoness007: that cool
lisajoness007: am lisa
Me: Nice to meet you lisa.
Me: so are you in a habit of contacting guys you don't know? Or is this just something new?
lisajoness007: no
lisajoness007: i was boring in house and i feel like to found someone talk to
Me: boring in house?
lisajoness007: yes
Me: you were drilling in your own home? Were you doing some plumbing, trying to wire a chandelier?
Me: installing a VERY small window perhaps.
lisajoness007: lol
Me: so, talk...
Me: I'm listening...
lisajoness007: no
lisajoness007: talk
lisajoness007: you're a man
Me: No no no...I'm a witty man.
Me: but I need something to work with.
Me: what do you do for a living? Aside from drilling in your home.
lisajoness007: am a nurse
Me: really?
Me: LPN or RN?
lisajoness007: am work in lute general hospital here in pecham
Me: Pecham?
lisajoness007: yes
lisajoness007: that's london where i live
Me: and where were you born?
lisajoness007: i was born in arlington texas
lisajoness007: and i went to metropolitan university in liverpool united kingdom
Me: and english seems to come as a second language to you? Interesting....
lisajoness007: yes
Me: especially from someone from london, pretty dapper chaps there, have a firm grasp of pronouns.
lisajoness007: ok thanks
Me: look, scammers do not interest me...
Me: work on the sales pitch a little...learn English, it'll help
lisajoness007: ok
lisajoness007: i know we're desame
Me: desame?
Me: is that a form of english slang?
lisajoness007: yah
Me: meaning...
lisajoness007: forget
Me: forget?
lisajoness007: you've embarass me and i see that you did not attend school
Me: I know we're forget.
Me: Hey, at least I can hold down a conversation in english.
lisajoness007: really?
Me: So far I'm holding up my end....
Me: notice the "I'm"...
Me: it helps to clarify content.
lisajoness007: ok
lisajoness007: thanks
Me: for what?
lisajoness007: but you should not talk like this next time
Me: the next time someone tries scamming me?
lisajoness007: bcos you donot know who is going to help you
Me: I mean, honestly love, you claim to be born in America, you claim to live in England, and you cant even conjugate a verb.
Me: you REALLY should work on that.
lisajoness007: that is shame of you
Me: if by "helping" me you mean you have some stash of money tied up somewhere but you cant reach it because you live abroad and need someone stateside with a bank account to help you collect it...
Me: seriously love, you're going to need to work on your dialect.
Me: where are you really from?
lisajoness007: i have told you
Me: Asia, Africa, Russia?
Me: because you're inability to carry a conversation in English is showing your hand.
Me: am originally from zambia but my parents staying in texas
fmcorps: Uh huh...
Me: so you were Born in Texas, moved to Zambia before you could speak, your parents left you there, and now you're in London?
lisajoness007: and am lieving in england
Me: a nurse.
lisajoness007: yes
Me: sounds pretty fishy to me...
Me: let's get to the punchline...what do you need me to do for you?
lisajoness007: nothing
Me: so why did you contact me?
lisajoness007: just to cash fun with you
Me: "cash" fun?
Me: sounds a little...interesting...since you live in London, and I live in the states.
Me: makes "cash fun" a little hard to come by.
Me: done already?

lisajoness007: bye
Me: been fun doll...