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I just tried to upload some new art, only to discover that there seems no way to organize it as I want it.  Instead, new posts go to a "new" folder, or to "all", but I can no longer organize them into theme folders or a featured folder.  I've searced until I've poked and pressed everything twice, but I cut can't seem to find to add stuff.  Deviant Art hasn't worked quite right for at least a year, and I'm more than a little cheesed off about it.
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Dramboui

I Have Only One Reality (21 Mar 17)

I've been making good progress, literally daily, but there is only so much good spin from a recovering from a serious stroke, as I did between late Jan. and early Feb.  I recorded a mild stroke that I had recovered almost most entire from.   But I was too soon was back in hospital for an even longer, and more serious, which left be with an assortment of abilities and disabilities that were as shocking as they were strange.  I would draw as well has ever, however, but not type or and write.  I was able to read as fashion, but I kept forgetting the overall picture.  According to witnesses I was able to get around -- indeed, drove to the hospital with Traveling Matt -- but was only technically literate at the time.

I spent another 10 or 12 weeks in hospital, this time, with multiple CAD scans and MRI, as well a ECGs, and it took a while before they decided was at blood intermittent clotting in the heart before the stroke.  (I'll be another week, at least, before I can dress this up in technical horse pucky.)

So, now I'm on blood thinners for life, checking weekly to see that I am on the razor's edge bleeding to death on the one, and my blood clotting up and resulting in a stroke on the other hand.  I'm told it's pretty much routine now ... just never forget to make your monthly check up.

I haven't appended any therapy or special closes yet.  Though I was discharged from St. Joseph's around the 20th of the month.  He said have no, in fact, attending the coin show it coin show at the end of the month.  But I was I was quite nervous, having gotten used to being under constant scrutiny, and, in fact, constantly having to rediscover simply thinks like using the lock door ... in fact, I still can't out entirely figure out how the microwave oven works.  It's literally beyond...

I've been on my own more or less for about four months.  I've been in a state of perpetual panic over everything from slicing bread to holding more than an object it both hands at once.  But has day is a gain.  Every increase in my powers, is that owed back to be me … and I hope to collect every of penny.   Significantly, I’ve begun to write again … not a little better every day, but a lot better every day.  I’m still pretty shaky, but I’m the hang of just the words again, and a sense of style again.   I may even hopes of being more or less as fit for writing in as little in month.

I can’t pretend I haven’t slaved over this for over an hour … probably a lot more.  I will have many mistakes that I can’t see, and will seem foolish later.   But what I wrote yesterday was more difficult than what I wrote yesterday, and what I intent to wrote tomorrow will be more difficult still.  There is no alternative.  I grow again or I will die.

  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Dramboui

The discouraging thing is that although I’ve been off-line for the last few days, the world just went on spinning without me.

I have been having some health issues this winter.  These included a swollen leg, shortness of breath that made sleep difficult, and a heart that pounded like a Tyrannosaurus-sized bongo drum with the least exertion.  It was a challenge to put on my shoes ... or even point a remote at the TV.  All of these signs pointed to an obvious diagnosis: Congestive Heart Failure.

So I saw a doctor.  She listened to parts of my anatomy gurgle and burp and said CHF was likely, but also I had one lung full of water!  She wrote me a prescription for a diuretic and told me to fill it and take one immediately.  She also booked me into St. Joseph Hospital for an ultrasound scan and EKG. 

So I took the pill, and what do you know?  I felt better that night, and got a proper night's sleep for the first time in ages.  

I kept the appointment at St. Joe's a couple of days later, and they told me that the membrane that encloses my heart – called the pericardium – was also full of water, and its pressure on my heart was what was causing it to labour with such difficulty.  There wasn't much wrong with the ticker itself. 

More appointments were booked for further examination.  They were on the same day in fact, the first one for an additional ultrasound of my chest and then another with my GP that afternoon.  I never made it to the second appointment.  A cardiologist appeared after the ultrasound and said I wasn't going anywhere.  He was finding me a bed at St. Joe and I was going to remain there under observation.

Naturally, I wasn't expecting this, and wasn't prepared in the least.  When I took stock of the situation, though, I wasn't as badly off as I might have been.   I had pocketed some money do some later shopping, had a book with me, and always kept a card with important phone numbers in my wallet.  I had turned all the lights off at home before I left, and no longer had a cat to care for.  Everything was more or less copacetic!

The next few days were, in a way, a welcome change of pace … although I spent a lot of that time having sharp things stuck in me, and vital juices sucked out.  My usual round of meds were adjusted as well, for reasons not then apparent to me.

I started calling friends the first evening, and next day got one of them, who lived reasonably close, to come by for my apartment keys and bring me back a load of necessary stuff: fresh undies, my portable drawing board set, pens and pencils, a docket of unfinished work to complete, my reading glasses, more books, my fuzzy slippers, this, that, and the other thing … and finally a USB memory stick.

Also on Day Two, one of my other friends brought over an old laptop running XP, which I knew how to use.  The idea was that I could use it to connect to FaceBook and FurAffinity.  E-mail was out, however, since I had no portable source of addies.  Unfortunately, we were unable to connect with the hospital's WiFi service, so that idea had to be abandoned.  I was able to listen to music on my USB stick, though, and on Day Three I began writing a journal that I saved to the stick for later completion.  The laptop wasn't a total loss, by any means. 

When Day Four began, the novelty was beginning to wear thin.  Still being in hospital and not having any idea when I’d be released was no longer an agreeable “change of pace,” but was instead becoming a drag.  I was served cream of fucking wheat for breakfast … again.  I have more appetite for garden slugs than cream of wheat.  But unexpectedly, the cardiologist sent me down for one last ultrasound to make certain that the swollen leg wasn’t due to an arterial blockage.  It wasn’t, so he said I could go home that day!

I was feeling far better by then.  The diuretic I had been put on had drawn the fluids out of my lung, and the pounding in my chest had become a dim memory.  I could walk all the way across the cardiac care unit and use the bathroom all by myself, and walk all the way back.  Since I still suffer from Myasthenia Gravis, that’s as normal as I’m ever likely to be again.    The doctor had taken me off a medication for high blood pressure, though.  It had been prescribed to me ages ago my first doctor, a negligent quack who viewed his profession as an easy way to make a good living from helpless patients.  I won’t go into a list of his high crimes and misdemeanors – enough to say that he added other medications to the first, but never took me off it.  Years later, I paid for it.  At St. Joe I had stopped taking it, and my blood pressure did not rise at all.  The other meds had it under complete control, and the original prescription was utterly unnecessary.   Worse, it had side effects – it caused fluid retention, i.e. edema.  Very likely Dr. Quack’s prescription of a superfluous drug had led directly to my leg bloating up, my difficulty breathing and mild CHF.  

The drug can also cause spurious muscle pains … another minor complaint from which I’ve been suffering, and which had been chalked up as “neuropathic” in origin.  (That is, there was nerve damage but no clear cause.)  It’s possible that the nuisance of spasming leg muscles and strange transient aches will also disappear over time.

So now I’m home again, feeling better than I have since before Christmas, taking fewer drugs … and those I still take actually do me some good.  My ticker is just fine!

Not bad for a Friday the Thirteenth!

  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Dramboui
I recently discovered that my increasing the brightness of my monitor, I was going to cause a lot of trouble for myself in the near future.  For a while now, I've had hints that my files don't look to most people the way they look to me.  A few people complained of grey backgrounds and white swatches that were quite invisible to me.  When I readjusted my monitor from 80% to 60%, though, these unwanted intrustions leapt out at me!  So I've gone through every file from 2014 and 2015 and re-touched them to get rid of the crap.  Most of the time it only took a simple readjustment of brightness and contrast, and a bit of work with the paint tool.  A few times I had to use the airbrush or cloning tools to restore disfigured airbrushing.  

The main task was to replace the affected files on FurAffinity and Deviant Art.

I'm happy to say that I'm done with FA, and I've started on Deviant Art. I should be finished replacing files in a day or two.  I might even persevere and get it done tonight.  After that, I will check posted files going back into 2013, but odds are that I won't have too look too far.  I must be near the limit of the affected files.

However, you might want to check any files of mine you've downloaded, and if the are affected, replace them with fresh copies.
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Dramboui
A while ago I was contacted by a man whose name I couldn't place, but who turned out to be working for a casting agency for the National Geographic Cable Channel.  I was a little skeptical at first, but after a little research on Google I believed him.  His current job was to find material for a program called "Taboo," and apparently he regarded "Pygmalionism" as a possible topic.  He had noticed my art on DeviantArt and wanted to talk to me about the topic.

We talked for about an hour on several subjects, actually, since "statuphilia" or "Pygmalionism" is only one of many interests I have.  In that time I tried my best to answer a number of questions.  

For instance, was there a community of statuphiles?  Well, I said, yes and no.  I know of perhaps a dozen active artists who have reputations, and a larger number of others who are relatively unskilled amateurs.  I added that most artists are manipulating photos or using software similar to Poser to create their art -- not many artists of note were drawing in the old fashioned way (as I did).  There was, in fact, to my knowledge not a great deal of traditional statuephile art being done.

Were Pygmalionists a community?  I had to say, no.  Almost without exception the members are only known by online pseudonyms and there didn't seem to be much networking going on.  People posted stories or art and for the most part didn't discuss it beyond posting anonymous comments.  I doubted many had met other's in the statuphile community, or knew them beyond what was seen on-line.  Perhaps I'm all wet about this, but that's my impression.  I've only communicated with, perhaps a half dozen individuals, one or two of them quite superficially.  I assume this is typical, and infer from it that  members of the statuephile community prefer to be anonymous, and don't wish to announce their taste in art to the world.  I'm not sure you can blame them.  Would you like to explain to strangers why you fantasize about making love to a marble sculpture or plaster manikin?  Or about  becoming one?

Well, you see, its something like bondage, but also like dominance/submission, with a little exhibitionism thrown in, and ... oh, hell, mind your own business!

I suspect that at this point, the agent's enthusiasm began to cool.  I wasn't feeding him what he needed to hear to work up a story.  We began to talk more about me, instead -- my other art, my long involvement in science fiction fandom, my professional work, and so forth  I promised to send him additional images and text that he could take to the next producers' conference ... that was about two weeks ago.  I'm waiting to hear back, and think I may wait a long time. 

Most likely I've talked him *out* of doing an episode on statuephilia, having convinced him that there's nothing of interest there for the TV viewer.  But, as one of my friends put it, did I really want to be known nationally as the father of Pygmalionism?  Hey yes!  Even infamy is better than no fame at all!
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Dramboui
Forgotten Glory
by ~TaralWayne, Apr 8, 2012, 12:18:51 PM
Journals / Personal
I've been keeping a secret for quite some time now.  The beans could have been spilled a couple of days ago.  However, it's April 8th. and I'm seeing the news all over the internet before it even occurred to me that I was free to speak up.  Strange to say, I forgot all about it!

I've hinted every year around this time that I was up for a Hugo again.  Nominees always got the news a few weeks ahead of the official public announcements, and are asked to keep it under wraps until then.  About a month ago, I received the news that I was on the Hugo ballot for Best Fanartist for the 11th. time, and solemnly swore the oath of secrecy.  Then, as soon as the e-mail was off, I phoned up friends and told them.

Not everyone who is a friend, mind you.  Just those I really like.  Bob always told me about his Hugo nominations, and how could I keep a secret from Steven, whose stories I  steal for my fan articles?  Then there's Schirm, a fellow fanartist and confident who I've known for 35 years.  Steve Stiles and I usually blow our covers too, since it's an easy guess that if one of us is nominated, so is the other.  One or two people who weren't even in fandom would hear about it.  And my sister.  The word usually didn't go much farther than that.

As well, I played mind games on-line.  I belong to a couple of forums where I'd drop a heavy-handed hint that I'd have important news in a few weeks or a month, and refuse to answer anyone who guessed correctly.  Although a total breach of trust, nobody in fandom ever set foot in these forums, so what did it matter?  I needed someplace to let a little steam out or else burst…

In the past, I've always been fairly excited about the whole Hugo business.  For reasons I probably can't justify, I thought there was a fair chance of actually winning the Hugo.  This is not to say I was necessarily optimistic.  From year to year, there were noticeable differences in my mood.  I began moderately hopeful.  Next year I was sarcastic.  The year after that, indignant.  This year, however, I realized I wasn't excited at all.  I won't go so far as to say I was indifferent to the nomination… but I felt little need to tell anyone about it.  I dropped no hints and kept the news pretty much to myself.  

Worse... the date for the official announcement of the ballot came and went.  I didn't even realize until I started to see comments about the Hugo ballot on-line that I had actually forgotten all about it!

Okay, so here it is.  I've been nominated again.  11th. time.  Yada yada...

I won't win – I'm resigned to that.  If I was ever going to, it would have been at the 2009 Worldcon, where I was the Fan Guest of Honour, right?.  If I couldn't win with that advantage, what are the odds that I can win at all?  But, people told me not to give up, that perhaps the voters will realize "he ought to have won last year."  It wasn't likely to at the 2010 Worldcon, though, because that was held in Australia.  The local fanartist of note – "Ditmar" – would be the logical winner.  You think?  Perversely enough, he wasn't even on the ballot.  Then there was the 2011 Worldcon in Reno, the first worldcon back in North America, and the last conceivable chance that voter's remorse might come to my aid.  It didn't, so I suppose the odds from now on will only grow slimmer.

Especially as I don't seem to be drawing all that much, lately.

The internet guy is on the ballot again… for the second time.  I'm thinking this is the beginning of the end for fanzine artists of the old school, and that sooner or later it's inevitable that strangers in Hong Kong or Mexico, who post popular internet comics, will push traditional fanzine art off the ballot entirely.

Until that day, I'll have to be content with collecting the little pins that come with a nomination.  I've had worse deals.
7 Comments
Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Drambouie.
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Dramboui
I see that the last time I wrote anything for my Journal on DeviantArt, it was to complain about how slow everything here was.  Since then, I've solved the problem...  The trick was in chaging web browsers.  I'd learned that Microsoft's Internet Explorer was itself very slow and inefficient, and switched to Google Chrome, which is free and actually works pretty well.  If I had one complaint... well, it would be unusual to have only *one* complaint, so if one is all I have then I'm pretty well off.
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Drambouie.
I'm having serious problems on DeviantArt.  Typically, I have 40 to 60 messages every day -- most of these are "deviants."  That is, notices of art put up by people I'm watching.  Another handful will be favs and a small number will be actual messages.  It's the messages I like best.  The favs and new watches I just tick off.  But the "deviants" are a headache to deal with.  Even if I don't want to look at the new file, it takes me anywhere from 15 to 30 seconds to tick it off, and be rid of it.  If I want to see the file, it takes me as much as a couple of minutes to go to the new page, look, and return to the original page.  Heaven help me if I want to save the image!  If I have 30 or 40 such files to clear out, it takes up to 20 minutes on just that chore alone!

This is all DeviantArt's fault, not the numbers.  The site is slow, unreponsive, and does unpredicatable things -- such as freeze up for 10 or 15 seconds before it'll let you move the page or click on anything.

I just can't afford to spend this much time every day in activity that gets nothing done!  I've made a difficult decision to stop watching some people and will have to drop out of some groups I belong to, just so that I don't have to spend a minimum of 20 minutes a day unproductively emptying my DeviantArt mailbox -- on top of whatever time it takes to answer messages or upload new files.
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Drambouie.
Goddamn DeviantFart!  Before I could write a reply to a reply in my stack, DF evaporated it somehow.  Probably I'd clicked the mouse in that spot five minutes earlier, and it took that long for DF to register, and then respond by deleting the wrong thing.

I so much wanted to tell someone that yes, there is at least one remaining Betty Bomber.  It's in the Chino air museum in the LA area.  I even have URL's for photos --

fav.me/d18efx9

fav.me/d18eemm

Hopefully, whoever it was will see this journal, because I was unable to think of anything I could do to find that deleted message.  If I had even rememberded that member's name, I would have had someting to go on... but I never had a chance.

Message to DeviantFart -- Get some software from *this* decade, will you?
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Drambouie.
"If you haven't heard of this 130 page epic, you need to hear about it now.

A few years ago, musician Chris Fischer wrote and drew a long action-adventure story about the Rescue Rangers, featuring Gadget.  She's a little different... in the course of her adventure she is captured and head shorn, so she's a punky little mouse through a lot of this story.  She also has a serious "thing" going with Chip.  There's serious violence from time to time, as well.

The art is beautiful from one end to the other, told mainly in greytones and one colour.

There's only one problem.  It isn't there anymore!

This came to my attention thanks to a correspondent on DeviantArt.  I decided to email Chris and ask what happened.  As luck would have it, I got an answer the same day.  In brief, his credit card was hacked, and he hasn't adjusted all his auto-pays, etc. and is fitting a new daughter into his life.

However, "Of Mice and Mayhem" can still be downloaded from a Russian site, if you don't mind translating Cyrillic letters and Russian into English in your head...

Just kidding.  That is, no, I'm not, but if you move the cursor down to Dale's head, then move it straight to the left, you will come to an invisible button.  It will light up "English."  Click on that and you're in business.  Unless you like it in Russian, of course.

konorama.ru/omip/

The entire story will download in one zip-file.  Click on the image of the cover and a table of contents will appear to the left.  Scroll down a little until a large white arrow appears, and click on that to begin a download.

Or you can go to:
rrdatabase.dyndns.org/written/…"
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Drambouie.
Please pay attention!

That means you in the corner too, the one with the cell phone!

I have a new e-mail address.  Netscape is no more.  Instead, you should reach me at:

Taral@teksavvy.com
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Drambouie.
Anticipation, this year's worldcon in Montreal, is finally over. In some ways, I never believed it would ever happen, much less come to an end.  But it has.  I arrived home on the Wednesday after, a happier and tireder man.

There were some moments I wouldn't mind forgetting.  For instance, announcing the winner of the Best Fanzine Hugo.  The name was as much a surprise to me as I think it must have been to much of the audience.  According to the voters, the best fanzine of 2008 was an obscure blog somewhere, that wasn't all that good according to the few I spoke to who knew of it.  But the disappointment when the Best Fanartist was announced was much keener.  Even the winner, Frank Wu, expressed a little disappointment that I hadn't won... once he stopped dancing on the stage and playing spaceship with the award.  Well, you can't have it all, and I had a awful lot from the con this year.  I can't complain, or shouldn't anyway.

But the rest of the experience was one of those special, once in a lifetime things, like going to the moon.  What do I do now, you wonder.  

Highlights include stumbling without a clue what to do during the Opening, Closing, and Hugo ceremonies.  People tell me I did alright, so that's one less thing to worry about.  

Another highlight was finding a dealer with a complete set of 1962 Civil War News bubble-gum cards for sale.  I had this set as a kid, and for reasons I cannot fathom now, I got rid of it, and have been wanting to find another ever since.  Now I have one.  

I also visited Mount Royal (for which Montreal is named), and got caught in a thunderstorm with a friend up there, wondering if we'd be able to get home again dry.  We did.  In a small Gift Shoppe I found a battered samurai sword for sale.  With the 25% discount offered, it came to around $22.  I've spent almost as much for a pizza, so had to have it.  No more plastic swords for me.  It isn't "real" in the sense of being hand-made in the traditional way.  It's a cheap knock-off meant to hang on the wall, and made of steel that probably couln't hold an edge if you tried to sharpen it.  You could probably still drive it through someone's head if you were so inclined, though.

I didn't have much opportunity to speak with the other GoHs at the con, which was disappointing, but at least we exchanged a few words at the Hugo ceremonies.  Later I pulled rank to get to the front of a line to have Neil Gaimon sign books of his I just bought. (I couldn't have waited hours in line - I had program to do.)

All in all, the con kept me pretty busy.  In spite of problems with my back, I had something like 16 program events to attend, some as the lead participant.  I also hung prints in the art show, winning one ribbon (for the first time).  Naturally, I had to be taken to a Montreal deli at least once, and one dinner with old friends in a steak place was a winner too.  Nicest steak I'd had in a few years.  The parties, too, were a blast.  As a GoH I was able to get into the hoity-toity ones as well, where the grub is first class and you don't need a ticket for the booze.  No wonder worldcons cost $200 for a membership.

All in all I had a wonderful time and everyone treated me like royalty, just as I knew all along that I should be...
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Drambouie.
Journal Entry from FurAffinity: 4 days ago    

One of my "duties" as a GoH at the upcoming Worldcon is to help promote Anticipation. A while ago I agreed to give an interview to a journalist for an on-line site called The Pulse. The raw questions & answer session were written into an article by Janet Hetherington that has finally been posted to the site.

I think you'll find it worthwhile to go to:

www.comicon.com/ubb/ubbthrea..…

Meanwhile, since my last journal was up only three days, I'm going to paste it in below...


----------------------------------------------------


It Isn't How You Look... It's How You See.

In the next few days I hope to get a call from an ophtamologist about an appointment.

Those who know me are familiar with the somewhat sardonic look I have. But my right eyelid droops as it does naturally, and is not an expression. However, of late it's drooping too much. It's interfering with my vision. Now and then over the last year or two its done this, and cleared up shortly, leading me to think my lid was swollen that day, for unknown reason. But the condition has persisted for a week now. It's more pronounced as well. The lid covers my pupil, and since I can't see out of it, the eye wants to close altogether. So I saw my doctor.

It isn't a problem with the eye. If I hold it open with my finger, I can see fine. But this would not only look stupid, it would be impossible to do all day. It isn't how I look that matters... but how I see.
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1l18 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab? I'll have a Drambouie.
I have *finally* discovered how to add new journals without wiping out the introductory statement I wanted to preserve.  At the moment I don't anything I want to post here, but inspiration will come eventually.
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen.
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1/84 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab?
I was advised in strong terms to create a website where I could show my art to SF fans.  After all, while relatively few of them read fanzines where my work has been published, it is only SF fans who vote on the Hugos.  But why a gallery at DeviantArt, when I have another at FurAffinity?  It might surprise you that there is a considerable difference between them.  The gallery at FA is topheavy in furry art, erotica, and material I somewhat disingenuously describe as "niche".   (Rather than "fetish", "perverted", or plain "wacko".)  The material at DeviantArt contains a little such material, but is purposedly slanted at SF fans who may not be used to the infiniate variety of genre art on the internet.

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THE HUGO AND I

Let me start something like 35 years ago...  I've been deeply involved with Science Fiction fandom since the early 1970's, and after all that time have made a small mark.  For example, I'll be the Fan Guest of Honour at the worldcon in Montreal, in 2009.  I've also been nominated once again for a Hugo award, this time by this year's worldcon in Denver.  It's the 7th. time, and this time I'd like to *win* if it's possible.  

The key to winning is probably reaching outside of the small fanzine community, which while not strictly closed, isn't well known to SF fandom as a whole.  Most of the winners in recent years seem to have had presences in spin-off fandoms such as Trek or gaming or costuming.  The winners were also able to attend conventions where they could display their work in the art show.  I don't really have those options, but there was one way I could match other artists.  An on-line presence.

The problem with my page at FA is that it's a pretty mixed bag, with a heavy emphasis on furry art, and much of it is too erotic or too kinky for a general audience.  Friends urged me to find a different site for a showcase.  

After a little thought, Deviant Art seemed the best option.   Here I am.  Browse thoroughly.  Don't miss any folders regardless what I called them.  And vote often...

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MY LIFE IN THE BUSH OF GHOST-WRITING

If you don't mind, rather than rewrite the same boring old details about myself, I'll quite from from FurAffinity.

Artist Profile:
I've been drawing almost before TV's were common, let alone computers and the internet. I was drawing furry characters before there was such a fandom. I might have been the first to use a computer to cut mimeograph stencils to publish an SF fanzine. But it's almost an entirely different world now, and I tend to be a bit slow keeping up. I don't carry a cell phone, own an iPod, known how to ICQ, use PayPal, or know how to operate my digital camera yet. But I try to hang in there.

What I have done (before middle age began to slow me down) includes some magazine and book illustration, a short and obscure career in b/w comics, private commissions, dealer at cons, and too many years as an active science fiction fan to care to number.  

Because of the internet, making a living has become a lot trickier, it seems. It's multiplied the number of artists a hundredfold, but the audience is accustomed to 99% of the art being free. It's hard to know if there's a net gain. At the same time travel has gotten more expensive, and the border a paranoid free-fire zone. Cons are a memory. The final insult, a Canadian dollar is over par with the buck. If I take $100 US to the bank, it appears as a two figure entry in my bankbook now. Maybe I should just get a real job, like I had when I was 25. On the other hand, if I hold out another decade, I can 'retire' on welfare, and enjoy the first real prosperity I've ever known, and finally draw what I want!

Ambition is a cruel master.
  • Listening to: Televison likely, Tom Waits, Yes, or Blondie.
  • Reading: "Julian Comstock", Robert Charles Wilson
  • Watching: ...the little words moving across the screen.
  • Playing: With little toy cars (1/84 scale).
  • Eating: Yes, but trying to watch my weight.
  • Drinking: Are you paying the tab?