JOHN'S TIME

Sick all day, no class.
Drew 3 Pointe East comics.
Worked: 5:30pm-7pm
Finished art, and lettered and posted PE: 7pm-9pm
Read: 9-12pm

Class: 9am-5:30pm
Get Comics: 5:30-7:30
Chill at home: 7:30-9pm
Study Greek: 9pm-12:45am

Class: 9am-10:30am
Work: 11am-12:30am
Draw three comics: 1pm-5:45pm
Work: 6pm-8pm
Chill at home: 8pm-12pm

Class: 9am-9pm (45min break in middle)
Finished & Lettered Comic: 9pm-10:45pm
Read/ Chilled: 10:45- 12

Wrote: 12-8:3o am
Slept 8:30am-11:30am
Edited and finished proposal, prepared references: 11:30am-6pm
(I at string cheese during that)
6pm-7pm: chilled, dinner
7pm-9pm: Work on Pointe East
9pm-12am: homework

Worked from 8-3
Napped: 5-7
Ate dinner 7-8
Wrote at dinner: 8-12
Wrote at bar: 12-2am
Wrote at home. 4am-8am

Working on a graphic novel project, and had to finish the rough draft of the first section. Wrote around 20 pages.

welcome to the first installment of a new ongoing feature that will point to the less then cool things i find to geek out on.

Today’s guilty pleasure?  Goal 2: Living the Dream.  (and yes it is as bad as it sounds.)

i saw the first Goal movie a few months ago on FX and i watched it because i had nothing else going on.  it was the gripping tale of a mexican-american boy, Santi, who ends up being a big football (soccer) star in England.  it was a fun little movie, and mostly what kept me in it was that i had nothing better to do.

But tonight i needed some background noise and found Goal 2 could be streamed from Netflix, through my Xbox and onto the TV.    All i can say is, this is way better, i will give you the five reasons to watch this movie.

1) The main character’s girlfriend, Roz, is played by Anna Friel… Chuck from Pushing Daisies.  (and she has a bad accent to boot!!!)

2) Santi gets injured in a manor fitting Zoom Zoom Zumaya.

3) Has maybe the bratiest kid this side of Bart Simpson, and he only speaks Spainish so if annoying kids isnt your thing, you can ignore him.

4) two words: Lamborghini chase.

5) Lots o’ David Beckham!!!

should you go and check this out? i dont know, you need to be quite a football dork, but it made me happy.

Hey folks,

i have designed a logo for my upcoming webcomic, but i cant decide which coloring of it i like more, so i am posting them here, for you all to look at.

Please, please, please tell me which one you like more, i await with bated breath.

Thanks everyone, now off to try to build the pointe-east site, should be lots o swearing involved, but i bought a for dummies book on how to do it so atlest i got that working for me.

ok, look and comment.

first, the Blues:

now The Reds:

now, you comment.

It’s the quiet, early morning of April 11, 1821.  He sits in a wicker chair on the side of the street. She’s sitting in the matching chair next to him.  They both look off at the city before them. The Hagia Sophia is just visible on the horizon, the morning sun climbing slowly into the sky.
She peeks a glance towards him and says, “You look strong.”
“Thanks.”
“No, really, you look healthy, capable.  When do you expect Yanni?”
“He should have been here now.”  He looks down at his hands in his lap, as if he is reading his fortune in his palm.
“Are sure you don’t want any breakfast?”
“Well, maybe some coffee, Ma.”
She smiles at him and goes inside for a moment.  When she reappears, she holds two cups with steam rising from them.  He has risen and is looking down the street.
“Here’s your coffee. Is there any sign of him?”
“Thank you. No, no sign.” He sits, taking the cup from her, and having a sip.
“I hope they didn’t get him.”
“I am sure he is just running late.”
They sit, silently sipping their coffee for a few moments. Finally she says, “The dome looks beautiful this morning.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
“Do you remember the story I used to tell you about the cathedral?”
“Which one?”
“The one about the patriarch who was performing mass when the Turks came.”
“Yeah, Ma, I remember.  You said that when they entered the city, he took the eucharist and ran into a secret room whose door vanished when he closed it, and, it is said that once the Turks are driven from Constantinople, he will emerge from that room, and finish the mass.”
“You shouldn’t be sarcastic! It’s a true story, you know.”
“Then it is too bad that Patriarch Grigorios V didn’t have a secret room to hide in yesterday when the Turks hanged him at the gate.”
“You think you are funny, Dimitrios?” she raises her hand to smack him.
“No, Ma, I’m just saying.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“Nothing, mom.  I’m sorry.”
“You think it is funny to make fun of a great man’s death? Is that it?”
He takes a sip of his coffee, hoping the pause will help the subject drop. After a second, he says, “I wonder what the cathedral looked like without the minarets.”
“Just put your hands up and cover them like this while you look, then you will know.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“You said you wanted to know what it looked like without the minarets, I told you how to find out. What else could you have meant?”
“I meant, I wonder what it was like before the Turks.  I meant, I wonder what it was like to be free.  That’s what I meant, Mother.”
“You talk to me like this? Today of all days?”
“Is that what this is about, Mom?”
“What what’s about?”
“Don’t play dim with me, Mom. Is that what your anger is about.”
“I am not angry, I’m upset.  You are going off with Yanni to kill yourselves.  It’s an upsetting thing to know I will never see you again.”
“I am not going to kill myself.  I’m going to fight for our independence.”
“You are going to go fight the Turkish army, the people that God allowed to kill our Patriarch.  You don’t think that is suicide?”
“No, Mother, I think it is the right thing to do.” His eyes are fixed on hers, and he sees only pain in them.  “Ma, I’m sorry, I know you are scared for me, but I will be all right, I promise.” He reaches his hand out and takes hers.
Her head nods up and down, and she smiles.  After a second she says, “It’s cold in the mountains. you remembered your heavy cloths right?”
“Yes, Ma, they’re in my bag.” He takes a sip of his coffee and looks down the street for Yanni.

I was sitting at work a few minutes ago, and i was thinking about humor.  what is humor? how does it work? am i funny?  I am quickly getting to the point where i dont think i am…. yet.

I have really come to the conclusion that humor, in its purest form, is looking at the world from a slightly different perspective.  One that is different and unique to the person who is viewing it, but not so unique that it is completely  foreign to anyone else.  a good joke teller makes us see the world he does, it is the relating, the ability to make us “get it” that makes them funny.  Lenny Bruce is the perfect example of this being successfully and unsuccessfully implamented.  Bruce’s early work had a quality that was universal, but when he took to standing and reading his court transcripts, well, he thought it was funny, but he couldn’t get anyone else to.

But am i funny?  i hope so.  i doubt it, but i hope so.  i think that i might need to temper myself some, my view is slightly harsh.  i see lunacy, but seldom look at it as funny, and i think that that last step needs to be taken.  i often feel like the low man on the totem pole, like a Rodney Dangerfield standing and wondering why i “get no respect,” i think it may be time to laugh at it, instead of being angered by it.  It will be an interesting experiment.

As for communicating my unique world view to you, well i should figure out how to be funny first.