It's Love When

 

 

As a side note, things haven't improve from  when my mother had to touch with her own hand to be sure she was not dreaming me doing nasties with my girl friend. 

My mother got a stroke, and so now it is even less likely that she will ever recognize that I actually am a man - instead of some kind of asexual child - and one that likes women, too.

Don't think about it too hard.

 

I am alone, lonely, unhappy and miserable lately. More than the usual. And I have no one I trust to talk my shit to, too. If you read this, I will deny having written it.  

Aerostatic bondage close up - Sketch

Marker sketch.
 

A Van Full of...

 

This is - gasp - a pencil sketch.I did it for someone, as a preview for a possible "commission".

The ladies should be... the female cast of Farscape, but I do not think that they would all be into this kind of role-play. 

I think that the van is, really, a 3rd series Ford Transit, while it should have been the armoured car of Section 9, from Ghost in The Shell.

 I should do more stuff with traditional media...

Small truths

 It is a long time that I do not write here.

The only person that knew that I had this blog, in my immediate acquaintances, came to me to let me know that I was writing some pretty uninteresting crap. Well, the odd science fiction story that I was trying to write, really. 

The truth is - I am not very sure of my abilities, nor have any reason to be sure of them, so it does not take much to demoralize me.

And... I couldn't read the screen any more. My sight went down a couple of pegs and, suddenly, my writing screen became too small, till I decided to buy a better screen. 

The thing that I use to draw is still usable, because I am at less than arm's length from the surface,  but it makes for some pretty horrible headaches  if one uses it to write. Ergonomics is such a fickle thing. It does not take much to let one aching because of strained muscles and ligaments.

And I am not so young any more - aches stay with me, now, much longer than they used to.

Another truth is that I feel a desire to write only when I feel particularly bad for myself - I am back at it, it means that I have hit the bottom and started digging - again. 

I wish I was a happier person, I wish I did not wake up each morning vaguely deluded that god - or the Universe - have not sent me a nice, fatal heart attack.

But I do not know how to become such a person.

I suppose that I should drop my bitchy drawings and get a day job, but it terrorizes me. Also, questionable in taste as they may be, I still can hope that some day my drawings will resurface from the mists of the web, and lighten up the days of some "fan", long after I will be gone.

They don't pay my bills, but I feel that they are a better shot at "immortality" than whatever 9-5 job I could get.

Also, I am not sure that NOW will be the best time for a new start in life.

Maybe it will.

Bah, this is not even a "rant". 

Just a very whiny whine.

I am sorry, folks.