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had a pleasant day overall, did some rows of the tapestry and gave myself the goal of doing at least 6 rows per week! on track to finish some time in December, if I average that amount, but I have a feeling I'll have some bursts of productivity and some lazy points so who knows where I'll end up
also trying to finally get some of my built up personal projects done, all illustration stuff but I've had ideas sitting on a dusty shelf in the back corner of my mind for years now and I'd love to finally see them through. starting off easy with a quick Jaws animatic so that I can get into the rhythm of regularly working on this stuff, but once that's done I'm hoping to move on to a comic idea of mine! truthfully I think all I need in life is a consistent schedule, but it's hard for me to be the distributor of my own schedule. in the minced words of an old tumblr post: "yeah I have a schedule, but I know the guy who made it, and he's a real pushover." I think this little accountability circle w my friends (we're calling it "school 2") will help a lot, though.
anyway, have some little crumbs of writing! an idea for either chapter 2 or 3 of the Asteroid City thing of previous posts:
You try again to remember your mother. A new image surfaces.
She is smoking a cigarette on a New York fire escape waiting for the world to happen to her. But this time, this time…
The photograph is in black and white. She is in black and white. It's different now, though - she is tall. She has kind eyes and the sort of gentle, halting smile that makes whoever sees it feel acutely like they are in the presence of a baby deer and need to become quieter, smaller, sweeter, in order to coax it out. She is adorned with a billowing dress ballooned with a million petticoats and embroidered with the kind of polyester-plastic thread that looks cheap from up close but sumptuous under the stage lights. Her face is framed below with a comically large frill and above a comically large updo. You think this is your mother, but you think she also isn't. She isn't in the photograph, after all. And she's been dead the whole time. Though you're not sure why you keep thinking that.
also trying to finally get some of my built up personal projects done, all illustration stuff but I've had ideas sitting on a dusty shelf in the back corner of my mind for years now and I'd love to finally see them through. starting off easy with a quick Jaws animatic so that I can get into the rhythm of regularly working on this stuff, but once that's done I'm hoping to move on to a comic idea of mine! truthfully I think all I need in life is a consistent schedule, but it's hard for me to be the distributor of my own schedule. in the minced words of an old tumblr post: "yeah I have a schedule, but I know the guy who made it, and he's a real pushover." I think this little accountability circle w my friends (we're calling it "school 2") will help a lot, though.
anyway, have some little crumbs of writing! an idea for either chapter 2 or 3 of the Asteroid City thing of previous posts:
You try again to remember your mother. A new image surfaces.
She is smoking a cigarette on a New York fire escape waiting for the world to happen to her. But this time, this time…
The photograph is in black and white. She is in black and white. It's different now, though - she is tall. She has kind eyes and the sort of gentle, halting smile that makes whoever sees it feel acutely like they are in the presence of a baby deer and need to become quieter, smaller, sweeter, in order to coax it out. She is adorned with a billowing dress ballooned with a million petticoats and embroidered with the kind of polyester-plastic thread that looks cheap from up close but sumptuous under the stage lights. Her face is framed below with a comically large frill and above a comically large updo. You think this is your mother, but you think she also isn't. She isn't in the photograph, after all. And she's been dead the whole time. Though you're not sure why you keep thinking that.
