Unintentional Advertising or Use of Copyrighted Material?

If you're wondering why the eyeless person is stylistically different in appearance than everyone else, it's because that's the way my lovely friend Liesl (who does, in fact, have eyes) drew herself in her comic diary. I decided to keep her consistent so she'd be recognizable as the same person in both our comics.

And yes, that line is actually in the Gaston song. Well, the reprise, to be exact. I really love Disney movies sometimes. Seriously, it's worth having the subtitles on so you can catch lines like "Forty frenchman can't be wrong!" in the kill-the-beast song, or Coggsworth's comment about something in the castle being "minimalist rococo," which makes no sense, as rococo is pretty much the opposite of minimalist. Fun stuff you don't catch when you're a kid.

Psyche

1: His name was Ben, and he was a psychologist. He asked what had prompted me to make the call (my cousin). He asked what my social and uni life/s were like (good mostly, some minor difficulties I guess?). He asked what drugs I do (caffeine and alcohol) and how much (2-4 daily, 1-4 weekly, respectively). He asked if I get along with my parents and my brother (fairly well). He approved of the reason I'd called (better self-understanding). Then he said they'd call me again in a couple of weeks to make an appointment (okay). Sigh, waiting lists.
2: "I think, to be a good actor, you kind of need to have some kind of mental problem --"
3: I reached into my pocket and found at least two grocery receipts (folded), a scrunched flyer for Short Flicks, and a piece of lined paper that I felt sure would be some kind of note. I opened it up fold by fold, expecting to find pen marks with each prise. Turned out it was just the strip of paper I had left over after Scenes From A Hat.
4: Two little boys were charging around Aisle 6 while Munaf and I were working the freezer. Their mum kept nagging them to “stop playing before something – “ snap. There goes a jar of cream, all over the floor. “I didn’t mean it!” said one of the boys. “Doesn’t matter,” said their mum. “I told you to stop playing!”
5: One of the bread delivery guys was late. Dom ripped into him.
6: A weedy old man on the tram hunches over his mobile phone; his voice sounds grainy, disembodied, as though he’s on the opposite end. He was hidden behind another old guy with his back to me until a few moments ago, so it really did sound like his voice was coming from nowhere.
7: It was warm yesterday and this morning, so I came to work without a jumper or jacket. And then it started raining. Spring rain. Light, warm, grey rain that makes the city smell of dust, exhaust, and pollen, and makes it hard to tell whether the surface of your skin is hot or cold.
8: A microphone evangelist, right by the Bourke St. tram stop. Male, late 20’s-early 30’s, short hair, tousled and spiky, standing in the rain. He spoke as though directly to God; “ -- and miracles! Seeing that happen! Ha, ha ha! It’s so awesome to know You, Jesus Christ my savior!” Seconds later he swooped on the tram queue, who’d all clustered together under the shelter to avoid the rain, and started asking the stragglers if anybody had a slipped disc? Or lower-back pain? “cause I wanna pray for you, God’s telling me someone’s got problems down here –“ He pointed to the small of his back.

Short Sunday

1: On the 96 – as I waited outside, for the 86 – there was a couple standing by the door, laughing over an iPhone. The guy looked like he was in his early 30’s, the woman maybe ten years younger.
2: The guy directing the traffic between the trams and the replacement buses boomed about it being his last night.
3: For once, I had my arse handed to me on Brawl. Two things I need to re-learn -- the first is to warm up with characters I'm actually good at. The second is how to play anything other than one-on-one. You just can't juggle 4P chaos, and I'm too used to juggling a single, bewildered opponent. Sometimes two.
4: Strange that it happened so soon after that memories post -- my ex from first year (two thousand and seven!) showed up on my Facebook "Suggested Friends" list. It's an odd kind of jolt.
5: It's not often I submit a whole pile of ideas to Scenes From A Hat. Well I submitted a whole pile of ideas. Maybe one of them was good.

Hi, I'm A Mac!

Alex just released this today. Turned out a lot better than I expected. :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQnO6NyH8fI&feature=share

1: I managed to clean one shelf – one – on aisle one before Ron realized we were understaffed (by one), and I was needed at the register. Register 7, that is.
2: I’d just shoved in the last bag of ice when I got a security call from liquor – someone had done a runner with a slab of Slate. I hurried outside to see if I could spot him; it was still light, but there were too many people around, and nothing stood out. Miraj, Bilal, Ron and I fanned out through the back streets where Shane said he’d gone, “threatening to kill himself if we followed him”. We got two blocks away before we realized nobody here knew what the guy looked like.
3: I’m not surprised that Riordan put a sword through the archdemon’s wing. It’s exactly what I expected to happen. Sweet cutscene, though; the level of exertion shocked me, and at least they explained why I’m able to fight a dragon groundside, rather than doing the usual RPG thing --
4:  Glenn was both shocked and dismayed that I was still up at 1am. Like he could talk, though.
5: My netbook has told me twice, whilst I’ve been writing this, that it detects wireless networks. I’m on the tram.
6: I’m trying to work out the pattern on the seats. Green background, coloration split between near-black (brown) and two nearly identical shades of yellow. It’s patterned with lines constructed of dots – perfectly circular – and dark lines that look like the turning of a pen at the edge of a letter.
7: Dan looked like – well, Dan, I guess.
8: We walked right past Ajisen Ramen twice before we realized where we were. A sprightly homeless guy asked us for change one way, and gave us an offended, wounded even – hurt look when we couldn’t help him. Then he did the same thing again on our way back.

Insanity

Today's comic features two of my human housemates, Mike and Garrit. (I know a lot of people named Mike, including two Mikes who hung out in the same group here at my college for years without either of them acquiring a different nickname, plus another guy in my graphic novels class who was assigned to collaborate with me on my latest comic, plus my parents' next-door neighbor, and my roommate's father, and my pseudo-cousin's boyfriend, and another handful of Mikes who went to my high school, and (last but certainly not least) the Mike Gorrie we all know and love. In fact, there's even a sports show called "Mike & Mike" because it's literally got two guys with the same name as its only commentators! And I haven't even mentioned all the fictional Mikes yet. Seriously, you'd think at least some of these Michaels would take pity on us and use "Chael" as their nickname or something.)

Anyway, none of that is relevant to the comic.

...And Mike, please don't start calling yourself "Chael." Yes, that goes for all 10 million of you, but Gorrie especially.

Without further ado, onto what I actually came for:

In case you were curious, "The Insanity Workout" is actually the name this workout program chose for itself. Gotta respect them for at least being honest. Any program that has to remind you to keep breathing is pretty hard-core.

Behind You

The past is a strange thing.

It's nearly a year since Leslie and I got together, and as of yesterday, a year since the night that (narratively!) really started it. We watched the first episode of Torchwood: Children of Earth in my room with Emma and Kasey -- who left, bored, after the first half-hour. Less than a minute before the first childrens' chorus of 'We are coming.'  I'm pretty sure it started less than ten seconds after Emma closed the door.

Five minutes later, we'd watched three episodes, sat up giggling at each other a bit, checked the time, and read, "3:30am". A lot happened in five minutes.

A year before that, I was in Paris, spending my days at the Zigzag Cafe and drafting scenes for my novel while dad visited the Tower, the Arc, and the art galleries. I managed to do some of my most important development work in that time; at home, I was distracted. At Zigzag, on pen and paper, I was churning it out for hours on end without trouble, shotting une cafe every half hour or so, and -- freshly single -- asking myself if I'd ever work up the courage to chat up the waitress. (I didn't - I did manage a two-minute conversation about some American tourists who'd just passed through, though; "C'est pas que je ne parle pas l'anglais," she said, "Mais, quelquefois ils parlent trop vite" -- "C'est la meme pour moi, en francais!" I'd laughed; "Mais, contre leurs accents -- c'est plus facile pour moi, peut-etre --" We trailed off, and it was back to the awkward "'lu!" each day.) I returned to Australia just in time for Jen's birthday.

In 2006, I'd just come out of an intense (toxic?) relationship that'd only lasted a month, with only a little of my pride left, my friendships and my Year 12 studies in disrepair, and about to leave high school behind forever. I remember repairing things with Jen at Galactic Circus, somehow -- too late for me to catch up on our French study group stuff, though. I'm pretty sure it was at about this time that I took down the Deadjournal I'd been maintaining since September 2003. I archived it on the portable hard drive I took everywhere with me -- that hard drive has since been lost.

In 2002 -- October 17th, I think? -- two weeks before a move at the start of November, I first brought the Bluehawk mantle to SoaH City and fashioned it as a character. Based on -- well, it's what one does in those places. It started with sprite comics, and then I came up with a story I thought I could only do justice to in a different medium: the Stormeye Saga was born (its title hasn't changed since 2003, though nearly everything else has). I was still whining about being rejected by a girl four months before, and little snot that I was, I thought that meant I could empathize with people older than me who were digging deeper trenches into hell. I'm sure you were stupid too, when you were 14.

And that's -- as far back as I recall, really. That's weird to think of. That I barely recall anything before Year 8 (2002). Well, I barely recall anything in terms of chronology, anyway. I'm sure it'd come to me if I really thought about it.

Now to remember today.

1: We met up in Sam's room to organize Emma's (belated) birthday present. And wrapped it in a dozen rolls of sticky tape. By the time Emma cut it open, the layer of interwoven tape was thicker than cardboard.
2: Kristin and I spent about fifteen minutes waiting outside the noodle shop before our orders finally came through. They were doing the best they could -- but it was freakishly crowded, for a Wednesday. We'd walked in thinking there were two or three people ahead of us. Turned out there were about a dozen who'd gone off to play a game of Street Fighter or to buy a drink; kill ten minutes, then come back.
3: Jenny appeared out of nowhere to ask if I knew where Fez's room at Chisholm was. The answer was no, I didn't -- well, I did, but only vaguely. She'd gotten a message from Nate, earlier, that someone had to collect the keyboard -- Kristin reckoned she hadn't realized he sends those en masse.
4: We knocked on the door to Fez's floor. Waited. Heard a door close further in -- then a thud, more movement. We knocked again, the door burst open -- Fez, fezless, holding his keyboard, looking at us in surprise. He pushed the door open, and we heard a loud snap -- part of the keyboard had gotten caught on the door handle and gotten prised open.
5: We're doing a song (in choir) from Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children. A couple of the others are excited about doing a song from Final Fantasy VII. I pointed out the "Advent Children" part and scoffed, "glorified fanfic". Pretty sure I lost approval points.
6: I went to the shops and tried to remember what it was I'd come for; bought cereal, milk, juice, honey -- remembered after I got home that I'd been meaning to buy a powerboard for days.

The Following Broadcast

On Sunday I finished production for two separate films.

Isidore: The Film Of A Thousand Deaths has been giving us all hell for a while. Leslie and I signed up for it about a month before production started, and soon after, we lost most of the original cast to the rehearsal schedule for Student Theatre & Film's Northcote Town Hall season. We were forced to merge two roles, gender-swap another, use the director as an actor and the cast as crew. We miraculously got it almost finished within the winter holidays, and it's taken us two months to sweep up the dregs. Now it's done.

The Radio, (no website), written, directed and produced by yours truly, was the other one. I'd made up call sheets a few days before. I'd run two weeks' worth of casting calls, completely overturned the front end of the house for it, spent two days attempting to undo the damage, and then still had to organize seven+ people, plus equipment, for Sunday.

It turned out well, considering its troubled beginnings in the casting room. I just want to say I'm really happy with the people I managed to rope in. I'm just so glad.

1: I'd already eaten three eggs, a whole onion and a slice of pizza. Then Christoph and Alejandra made cheese fondue, adding sour cream and pepper to the mix. We ate it with sliced baguette and a few bits of sliced banana. It's left a creamy taste on my tongue, which just makes me feel fuller. Also, apples and pears? I thought they were potatoes.
2: I was disappointed with the confrontation between Harrowmont and Bhelen. Considering the history between the Aeducan kids you'd think they'd have made that moment a bigger deal. Bhelen's sheer idiocy in that moment cheapened it further. Maybe I'll rewrite it in fanfiction, if I can find the time.
3: I had to track down Dom to get her to sign a release form for The Radio (my bad; should've made sure that happened before we started shooting). We set up to meet in front of the library -- when I arrived it was the most crowded part of the Agora. I looked around for about two minutes before I realized she was right in front of me. And then I still wasn't organised, so we were a few minutes late to class.
4: We (Team Taoism) ate McDonalds' ice-cream and talked about the weird feminist metaphors of Wonder Woman. If Wonder Woman is feminism, then is feminism's weakness "getting tied up by men" (ie into relationships)? Or is it a more radical statement about gender oppression? (Maybe more applicable back in the day than now --?)
5: I couldn't remember his real name, so I addressed him as Crackman.

The Footballs

Grand Final night. I've been talking for a while now about how much it bugs me when people ask me about football. I don't mind at all if people say to me something like, "are you going to the football," or, "do you follow footy?" -- I might even tolerate "do you follow a team?". These questions are totally normal conversational material and make no prior presumptions.

But those are never the questions that people ask.

"Who's gonna win tonight?" they ask me, their eyes alight, shining, glazed. "Who are you barracking for?"

"Which team do you go for?" say others. "What sport do you follow" is the best I can hope for sometimes. At least when they say that I know they don't assume everybody loves football, ever.

Or better yet, they start talking about the plays as though I were watching. Because of course I was watching the game, right? Who doesn't? So I smile and nod and wait for them either to go away or let me get a word in edgewise.Which is usually "yeah, okay, but --" and then they carry on as though I agree with them.

Also, Grand Final Night is stay the hell out of public places night. Grand Final Night means bogans driving around screaming "GO THE CATS" and throwing bottles out their windows. It means parades of drunken yobs singing team anthems and dropping the c-bomb twice for every other noun. Even if you manage to avoid that -- it's just an aggressive atmosphere all around. It's in the very air.

1: The dairy delivery came in just before 11. I saw it coming, rushed to the back fridge to make room - Dom spotted me on the way, and said, "make sure there's enough space, okay?" -- "d'uh", I thought. Guided the palette jack in. The driver heads back to the truck, I start making way for the freezer load (it's usually a palette of dairy and a palette of freezer in the one delivery). He brings the palette in while I'm cursing about a palette of two dozen giant pumpkins that I have to move -- and he heads for the fridge again.
"Oh, right." Two palettes of dairy. "Well now we have to get the first one back out so that we can --"
2: Two palettes of dairy. I should have made a complaint.
3: There was a yellow spray on the toilet seat, and no paper. I knew where I wasn't sitting down.
4: I didn't have to wait to hear the news on Twitter or Facebook. The environs themselves told me when the Grand Final was over. It sounded like a riot. Or like in disaster movies, when the first crowd of extras realizes they're about to die.
5: A young couple giggled behind me while I was cleaning shelves. I don't think they were laughing at me, but by the chided looks on their faces I think they thought I thought they were laughing at me.