Not To Scale

I don't want to live to scale - small life, small box. I want to live large, dream big, make it count.



I want to live, not merely exist.

I don't think it's too much to try for.

The Dangers of Being Fred

I tend to have surreal conversations with my friends. Today is no exception, with the result that a chat about art prompts interspersed with random bits about Cthulhu plus my distinct lack of drawing practice, birthed this little monstrosity.

The prompt, incidentally, was 'Fred'. No, I don't know why this came to mind. My mind is a scary, scary place, as evidenced by the appearance of John Constantine in My Little Pony trench coats.



I suspect need a SAN check now.

On the Terrace

There should have been an earthquake. Howling. Instead, there was only silence and a heat-drugged landscape, indolent under the heavy air. When the storm came it battered down relentlessly, washing all those words - everything that was ever said on that terrace - into the churning mud below. She watched as the crushed flower petals swirled over the edge, falling like tears at a grave, and thought, So this is how the world ends - without even a memorial to mark its passing.

Dream: Berlin

Tired, sick, discouraged. Maybe that's why the dreams are so vivid.

***

Dark night on the streets. Grey, formless, it’s mixed up with another dream where I remember bright lights in a shop window – triangles and other ornaments in red neon and sparkling fairy lights. Lots of people. There always are lots of people, all faceless and nameless and they’re walking quickly, always never showing their faces. I’m walking too, past little lanes where there is water on the tiles – little lanes like those in Panglima Street or those alleyways locally here where there are drains and the backs of shop houses. In the other dream I know I hid with a group of people or at least came into contact with some like minds.

In this dream, I remember soldiers. Huge cordons of them around the city, wearing Berlin colours and bright brass buttons on their jackets. They’re menacing. The sheer force of so many of them makes the air prickle with danger. It makes me uneasy. I look at my companion – he’s faceless and nameless too, but a comrade-in-arms, that I know – and we both think with the startling clarity of thoughts in dreams that with so many of Germany’s forces gathered en mass like this, one good hard blow would cripple them permanently.

We must have agreed. In dreams, things like consensus happen as if by magic, completely naturally. The roads are dark. We’re on the way to where Berlin has headquartered their forces. Ahead in the night sky, a plane lifts off and the glow of the aerodrome halos in the darkness, menacing and cold. There are trees silhouetted against the halo and I think, ‘Luftwaffe.’

We need to hide. There are searchlights and beacons all around us as we try to get into cover. One of the beams catches us and throws us into high relief and I am terrified in case we are discovered and shot, but somehow, miraculously, the guards leave us be. We are in a drain, an overgrown, weedy monsoon drain shallower than most. I go down a little ways, and discover that it’s a hidden passage to the sentry box. We need uniforms or disguises. There are three doors near the sentry box – again, with dreams, the most illogical things seem possible. I know one of my comrades manages to find a uniform, and another, but when it is my turn, I can’t, and I remember thinking that we need to hurry, I can see their boots under the stalls and if I can’t find something to wear and soon, there will be trouble.

I turn the chainmaille ring on my finger and think that such a small gesture against Germany’s massive army is like a piece of tiny chainmaille in a sea of boots. A drop in the ocean. I wonder why we’re doing this, and the implications of failing. We don’t seem like heroes, just madmen.

When I wake, echoes of the Luftwaffe and the sour taste of futility linger like tired rags.

Eight and Eight = 1 Lifetime, Bonus 2

There's a plane somewhere over a vast expanse of sea and sky right now, on course for Thailand. Somewhere in there is my best friend; with him, neatly packed, is eight years in a life encompassing past and present, condensed into eight days of a crazy, often heat-filled, wonderful visit.

How do you compact eight years into eight days? A year crammed into twenty-four hours? How do you measure the worth of smiles, in-jokes, fur, lemon meringue soup, Abyssal insanity and friendship over the span of a lifetime across several different continents?

I don't know. In a way, I don't need to know. When someone's willing to drive about twenty hours out from Oklahoma to Virginia Beach on an utter whim merely because a mutual friend is visiting me, stagger into my apartment at 5am in the morning with the accusation, "YOUR TOWN PLANNERS WERE ON CRACK!", and drive back home the next day for another twenty hours because he had to work - measurements don't count any more. That's the stuff memories are made of. That's the stuff my memories of Jer are made of, and so much more.

Jer the Furstack is the only person who's ever had the distinction of having me bake him Lemon Meringue Soup. There's a story to that, but suffice to say, lack of cornstarch in Lemon Meringue Pie is a bad thing. He survived Irish dance class when I dragged him with me on his second visit. He's seen me through fur, fire, distance and sword - quite literally this time around, that's another post on its own - and he's always been there. Even when he was stationed in different parts of the world, he was always there in some form or other, be it email or the occasional appearance on a game.

We had eight days together and we crammed eight years of a lifetime into it, and another few years to tide us over before the next visit - whenever that is, but it won't be another eight years, for sure.

Old lives, new lives. A not-so-distant past merged with my present in the form of an old, precious friendship.

Here's to many more years of broken epees and lemon meringue soup, Furstack.



Jer's farewell present: The Abyssals - Whisper in the Deep Shadows and the Pale Oracle of Dry Bones. Whisper is the one with blue eyes; Oracle could have been lots better, but at 5am in the morning? Sleep won over perfection by a few hairs.

Peacocks, Peacocks, Peacocks

It began with umbrellas and ended with books, and dinner, and crazy-talk and lots of laughter. And the realization that fencing duels don't quite work very well with brollies instead of foils, but what the heck, it's fun.

Sometimes, all that matters is the crazy things. Totally random MP3s and the strangest comments in a conversation ever. Fleur, purple fluff, 2am dissolves into hysterics over peacocks, Sinfest snickers, green apples I forgot to eat for two weeks. The kind things - stuffed toys, the Agatha Christie express, scented oils, cinnamon cake, lemon pasta, rides to and fro from choir and house, and dinner to home.

Friends.

Thanks, guys'n dolls. I don't think I could have pulled through this whole week without all of you.

And in honour of the menace that is Peacocks in High Estates, Katashi - something I did for a friend last year or so:



The mask and face could've come out a lot better in retrospect. Maybe next time, maybe next time.

Here's to the peacocks, Brat!

Universal Truths

THE ART OF WAR

Daughter mine, perfect the art
Of lipstick soldiers on chessboard squares
Of kingdoms won by hourglass curves.

The venom of a lover’s kiss
Brings queens to their knees.

The power of guns versus the power of rouge:
The darts of smiles have triggered shots
One glance of the eyes, a jealous rage.

Daughter mine, know these arts
Are lies:
Half-masticated fairytales
Disgorged
From trusting mouths
Mother to daughter, me to you
As much a lie as the fable -
Real men don’t cry.

--SYL, 2008

(Non) Photoshopped Spines, Seadragons and Body Farms

Since last weekend, I have been the proud owner of a mostly-recovered, non-Photoshopped spine, and a beautiful silver iPod Nano, courtesy of my rockin' brother (the iPod, not the spine. That would be a little freaky.) I haven't had a chance to use it yet, but I will once I get around to downloading the new iTunes! Aside of that there have been many shiny pretty objects that I'll get around to photographing, including the beautiful rings from Mei. They really are works of art, I absolutely adore 'em and have been wearing them two days straight.

Unfortunately due to circumstances and training, I wasn't able to join the Sketchcrawl that was held this weekend with Sandra and fellow artists - but I did manage some atonement during my family vacation to Langkawi Island last week. We spent time at Under Water World, where I got to see many, many curious sea creatures and lots of penguins. I'm a lousy photographer in general, so I sketched instead. Here is one of the most fascinating creatures there:


This is a Weedy Seadragon. Its colouration is a wonderfully fantastical congolomeration of red and black stripes and other colours I can't quite remember. It really does look like it has all different sorts of weeds growing off of it!

Reading/study material for the night - Death's Acre: Inside the Legendary Body Farm by Bill Bass and Jon Jefferson. It really is a fascinating read about how the Body Farm at University of Tennessee was established and some of the bizarre cases that have passed through its doors. I've been trying to settle down to do some studying, and between this and the online Architecture notes from MIT, this is a lot more comprehensible.

More updates later, I promise - sketches, jewellery, and mad rambles. That last, after all, is almost obligatory if you go by the people who happily inform me I'm cheerfully insane. You notice I haven't refuted this yet either.

Dragaeran Duet

Stress must be good for me. Well, let me rephrase that. CERTAIN levels of stress that don't reach the state of my previous job must be somewhat good for me. Over the last few days, work has been just a touch busy; the result is that I find myself wanting to draw or create more shiny wire things even if I have to push myself to do it.

I haven't done any jewellery since the weekend; it feels weird, but my hands were hurting from using the pliers a bit too much my last bracelet. Pictures forthcoming, but I was pretty pleased with how it turned out. Black glass beads and copper! Very antique-looking.

So last night, after a day in which patience and grace were stretched to the limit of taut piano wire, this eventually produced itself at 2am in the morning. It took 30 minutes. For 30 minutes, it's definitely not satisfactory, at least to me - but it -did- get done faster than Whisper. Which is an improvement, so I s'ppose I should be pleased. Constance! Just for you since you wanted some more soft shading!


Vlad Taltos and Sha, minus the Fur Skillet


Vlad actually has a thicker, bushier mustache. I think. It's been almost a decade since I read the books. Either way, I wasn't about to mess with it and make it worse, so it stayed that way (the other explanation tentatively involved singed hair and a stove which made it so he had to grow it out again but.) Oh, and he's a creation of Steven Brust. Sha is a game character of mine and is running off with Vlad in my place**.

**: Refer to the entry for Jan. 31st for explanation of why I'm suddenly running off with an assassin from a book. Short version - I'm insane. That covers all bases nicely.

For Love Of Furstacks

One of my favourite people in the whole wide world happens to be a furstack. It's a bit complicated to explain, but suffice to say that a role-playing game involving large furry felinoids who shed, and punky, demons-fear-to-anger chicks produced an in-joke whereby the player of the felinoid was promptly dubbed 'Furstack' and has remained so for the past eight years. (I sent him fur in Kosovo, but that's another story.)

Just for my favouritest furstack in the entire world, this came about tonight. It took too long, it took too many corrections, I rediscovered the pain of doing pencil shading, it looks a ton better scanned, and it looks fantastic upside down - just less so the right way up. Why, I don't know. But this is Whisper in the Deep Shadows, or at least a pale representation of what he SHOULD be like:



He looks a lot better as a Ball Jointed Doll, I promise. I don't have one, but I've seen one and it was the most perfect-looking Whisper imaginable.

Except for the fact that it cost over USD800? I'd have bought one just to drool over the perfection of the sculpting...

...which tells me I really need to go to bed. Like, now.

It's A Movie! ... So Sketch It

People watch movies to have fun. People watch movies to relax. I apparently watch movies to sketch.

I finally caught Sweeney Todd on the last day of its showing, and all I have to say is: Theatre graduate + beautifully costumed and made up film + Sondheim = Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. No more comments necessary, hein?

So of course I had to sketch it. The following were produced in a brief moment of utter insanity in the dark. If you're not convinced that white reflects light, try drawing Sweeney Todd singing 'London' in a dark theatre - trust me, there's light reflected to see a big blob of sketchbook if you keep one eye on the screen and another obliquely on the paper. Notice I didn't promise they'd be GOOD.






...And then there was Violence and I had to concentrate, and that was the end of productive artistry for the evening.

Tonight, I took apart 2 inches of European 4-in-1 chainmaille after deciding I was not about to craft 7.5 inches of migraine no matter -how- much I love this friend of mine. I can do about the same amount of Byzantine weave in half an hour, and this took 4 hours, most of it spent taking it apart and putting it together again. As a result, out came the sketchpad again, and the Chinese calligraphy pens since I hadn't used 'em in a while. The result: I -really- need a lot of practice with those things.



I can't wait for fencing class come Tuesday. Between that and the wirework jewellery (which I am still doing every day) I think that airport detectors'd have nothing on me when it comes to beeping out alarms for contact with too much metal.

Man, I really need to practice drawing some more too. How many hours in a day do I have again? Oh. Right. 24, not 56.

Drat.

Possessions, Obsessions...Err, Batman?

There's a tradition, at least among some of my choir friends and I, that it doesn't matter what date Chinese New Year falls on. The weather? Will be HOT. Scorching, unadulterated, completely and unbearably hot, even if it was raining cats, dogs, and frogs just the week before. Nothing this year has disproved the trend yet.

As a result, I fled my furnace of a room for downstairs, and the fishtank outdoors. I admit to being fond of fish in general (both aesthetically and as food, yes.) They just tend to be a bit lively to draw when they're darting around. Ours are, as you can see, rather fat. They're a mixture of Japanese carp and huge-bellied goldfish that look frighteningly obese. They're cute.



Right after the goldfish, it was time for Batman. Marco? This. Is. Entirely. Your. Fault. I -have- excessive testosterone levels, see! (and it's noir because I can't for the life of me draw the style you did. I so suck.) The colour is a lot better for real; I just don't take very good photos.



And while I'm at it, this is the infamous Hammering Station for my metal and wirework jewellery:



These are the first bracelets and hammered charms I made my first day back on vacation:






These are the first rings I ever made and the green one is singularly screwed up because I had to use pliers to make a bend in it to stop the metal bead from running away:




This is Aliera, the ring that's companion to the Loiosh Bracelet (Aliera is a noblewoman of Dragaera with a honkin' huge Great Weapon of Doom):




This is a bracelet commissioned by a friend, and yes, fish again!




And I'm still working on another piece of chainmaille bracelet - this one the Sha's Fire Draegaran bracelet, in Byzantine weave.

Do they have Chainmaille Addictions Anonymous perhaps?

New Year Traditions

Every family here in Malaysia has different traditions for celebrating Chinese New Year. In mine, we give my mother's plants haircuts.

This requires just a wee bit of explanation so it doesn't sound quite so odd. My mother loves plants. More to the point, plants love her. Think of a benevolent Poison Ivy, and you have an idea of how our garden looks like, and how plants behave around Mom. Got a sick plant? Bring it over. Quite a few plants sent over for rehabilitation have stayed on as permanent residents, after their owners saw the results and realized they wouldn't be able to duplicate such conditions in their own gardens.

My mother swears she doesn't do anything but feed her plants organic compost, which is mostly just all the fruit-peel, tea leaves, and coffee grounds and eggshells that the household disposes of. Orange peel is the biggest contributer to the compost box, so we have a running family joke that if any of our pineapple plants, fruits or vegetables ever taste of oranges, we'll know why.

That being said, Mom is a fanatic about her plants looking nice for New Year. Since we live in such a hot climate, the plants do get some brown edges due to heat and old age. There is one particular potted plant that we've nicknamed the Twin Towers due to it having branched out from one bulb into two bulbs, and grown into a gigantic onion-looking piece of greenery. The ends of the Twin Towers -always- require trimming, so it's become known as 'giving the plant a haircut.' And since we've been doing this for about three years now, it's become a Household Tradition now.



In other news, today was Sketching to Blazes and Sucking Badly Day. I think I'm out of practice or else I'm just not concentrating, but oh, improvement, improvement, thou hath backslidden from me. The following are studies I did for a picture I'm intending to work on soon, and...ngh. Yeah, improvement needed.





The Family also got their fair share of being sketched tonight after dinner:



The scan quality is less than stellar, because I was trying to take flash photographs with my camera - no scanner here, alas. Tomorrow, it'll be Sketching Fish, which will hopefully go better than this.

And on the jewellery note, can't resist tossing this one up. It's named Loiosh, after one of the mythical dragon-like telepathic creatures called jhereg in Steven Brust's Vlad Taltos novels. Even if I do say so myself? I'm really pleased with how this came out despite the clasp being a bit of a disaster. New Year bracelet!




More jewellery tomorrow and Gong Xi Fa Cai to all!

The Beads, Anvils, and Pointy Objects Compel You...

In my case at least, that's the truest statement of the month. A short summary of all the madness that's happened in between would read:

Found a store to get gorgeous, unique glass beads; bought more wire and got addicted to wirework as well as chainmaille; started sketching again; sang original songs for friends' album launch and murdered songs with nerves; may be recording demo song or two in March; sang with chamber choir for KL Performing Arts Centre Open Day and forgot lyrics; saw preview of buto performance at same and loved it; started fencing, LOVED it; hammered own pewter bowl at exhibition demonstration tonight, initialled it, and got to keep it; wound and cut own jumprings for the first time.

All that in one breath, and it'll be an approximate idea of how I feel.

And yes, I did indeed start fencing classes yesterday(and I can just hear some of my friends scream in horror, OH NO THE WORLD WILL END SHE HAS POINTY OBJECTS.) I've wanted to do it for years; it's a dream come true.

The pewter bowl hammering was just tonight - my colleague and I were at a convention centre appreciation dinner representing my workplace, and Selangor Pewter was giving people chances to hammer out either a shallow dish or a deeper bowl with a wooden mallet and dapping block. Scarily enough, yesterday I was just looking AT dapping blocks and reading up on what they were for, while researching wirework and making chains. How could anyone pass up such a perfect opportunity for stress relief? Carpe Opportuniem! (or however the Latin goes; I don't know Latin except for the phrase Winnie Ile Pu. Really.)

So now I have a beautiful pewter beading dish with my initials engraved at the bottom. Pewter! It's such expensive stuff to buy and here I got to whack at it AND keep it, all for free!

On the sketch front, since I promised Marcos that yes, I would be good and attempt to get back into drawing something every day like I used to (how's that for new year resolution), I present the following slightly mangled attempts:


Quick, rough, and dirty attempt at speed-sketching from a reference photo I loved. Didn't quite come out the way I wanted, but still better than I thought for five minutes or so.



Accompanied my colleague to the bank to run errands before work yesterday and sat in the car while she went to take care of stuff. Since I can't sketch buildings for nuts and they hate me anyway, I attempted to rectify this by drawing the Choco Boutique across the road. And ran out of ink, of course.



It is not the most polite thing in the world to sketch away when one's at a cocktail function and supposed to be meeting and mingling over pre-dinner appetizers, but those flower arrangements were just too cool to pass up. They look a lot better than this, I promise. The ikebana-like branches caught my attention tonight, so out came the sketchpad and inks.

And now, I attempt to finish packing so I can go home for Chinese New Year...yeesh, where did the time GO? *ahemcoughdistractedbycuttingjumpringscough*

Don't Draw Before Bed...

...it mucks up your sleep.

As in, it's 3.20am, and I'm still up. Why? Because the Sketching Itch is worse than the infamous Seven Year Itch, and it demands Immediate Attention. It also is the perfect way to ruin an even more perfect little sketch, but more on that later.

And more on the really mad day that transpired too, only later as well.



I don't know why this kept insisting it wanted to be called Ave Maria. The fact that I was listening to the Hitman soundtrack at the time might explain it.


The perfect way to ruin the perfect sketch. Gah! I need a lot more time in the School of Leaving Things Alone, Grasshopper.

...And -now- it's time for bed.

Ring Them Bells St. Catherine...

Ring them bells St. Catherine
From the top of the room,
Ring them from the fortress
For the lilies that bloom
Oh the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And they're breaking down the distance
Between right and wrong...

I could never remember any other verse to this song when I was younger (Bob Dylan, and I heard it covered by First Call eons ago). Ring them bells St. Catherine - maybe it was just the resonance of the syllables. Either way, it was an achingly beautiful refrain I never managed to quite forget, and now some fifteen years later, I remember it again. Driftwood of the mind, ripples and reflections of truths seen dimly in mirrors.

Appropriate, in its own way, for the momentous things that have gone by in 2007.

Happy New Year, dear friends. May the new year be good, be prosperous and eventful - but above all, may it allow enough quiet to retreat to that small, inner space and be still.


Hair, bells, drifting. Just a few reflective doodles for a new year.

Rocks, Geology, and Alabaster

Sometimes, epiphany takes getting whacked on the head with the clue stick and the absolute obvious. Normally, this happens in the shower. At least, for me. The only answer I have for why this is so, is that my muse, Poggy the Green Hamster, lurks in the darkest recesses of my bathroom. Given there aren't any darkest recesses in my bathroom bar the cistern and the sink, the how remains an unknown factor and I'm happy to leave it that way. Really. Safer not to ask why.

Today's epiphany took the form of realizing that it's been far too long since I did any form of art at all for fun. I mean, sketching and all IS fun, don't get me wrong, but doing a piece, however crappy, for the sheer joy of it -- erm. I can't even remember when. And given I've been so caught up with costume designs, sketching practice, observation practice, art for a purpose...being frivolous suddenly seemed like a real good idea.

One particular personal project that I've been researching has been to do with alabaster. At least, it was the inspiration for playing with textures and colours and trying to do something with puddles of light. She suddenly turned in quite another direction from where I originally thought I wanted her to go, but if looking at her reminds you of something like lamps and puddles of light, then I got what I wanted.

It does remind me that I've always sucked at anatomy and I really -should- study it but I've no idea how.



And I have no idea why she kept insisting she be called Alabaster either. Next time they say 'Go explore uncharted territory', I should warn them that the inside of my head is a dangerous place.

The Triumphant Return of Molly 'Guppy' McBass and Other Misdemeanours

First, the news everyone's been asking about:

WE WON A SILVER! WE WON A SILVER!

The category that we were in, the Asian Open, has no medals - they just have diplomas, and there are 10 categories to each diploma. So we had a Silver V, which, considering we have been practicing for just 17 sessions for this (just over a month after our production ended), is good enough for us at this point!

One of the other choirs that took part from Malaysia - the Dithyrambic Singers - did the entire country proud by taking the Gold in the Asian Championships for the Contemporary Music category. We went -nuts- cheering and waving the flags we'd brought, and hearing the national anthem being played like that was just...an experience I wouldn't have missed for the world. Never thought I was that much of a patriot but apparently competitions like this just bring it out in everyone!

Secondly: I've been absent for longer than expected because EVERYONE came home with a parting gift from Indonesia - the flu. I've never been this sick for ages; it's been almost 2 weeks and I'm practically the new choir bass at the moment. I -did- manage to take some 80+ photos in Jakarta but I haven't uploaded them yet - I will though at some point and toss them up.

So in order to play catch-up (and inspired by Marcos, Marcelo, Armand and Paul Lasaine's -gorgeous- work over the past few days), here's a snippet of the stuff I managed to sketch while being indoors with the competition choirs just about every day. The selection here is an entire afternoon's worth of choirs who competed in the Musica Sacra and the Mixed Vocal Ensemble categories; they were back to back in the same hall. If you're wondering why I was sketching when I was supposed to be listening to the choirs, well - a) after a while you do get sleepy when there are such lovely soothing songs b) I'm a lousy photographer at that distance.

The pink scribbles are fairly self-explanatory for each of the choirs; their costumes, I must admit, were -fabulous-. For larger images, click on the picture.








Maznur Chorale Kupang had an eye-boggling array of traditional costumes; this was only two of the many they were dressed in. I had to pick and choose -quick- before they finished singing their 4 songs and went off-stage.

Shoot The Brain. It Won't Shut Up.

The problem with only having time to work on costume plots at night is that night goes into the early hours of the morning far too quickly for peace of mind.

Ergo, currently. It's 3.30am, I'm supposed to be up for a full day at about 8am, and my brain refuses to shut down because I started work on the costume plots for the Christmas play at about 12 midnight. I'd have done them earlier but I honestly didn't have time till after rehearsals tonight.

This is what I have for the general meeting tomorrow - a really off-the-wall eclectic mix of styles that include the last Dr. Who season with Christopher Eccleston, Babylon 5, Star Wars, Mad Max, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Gackt the Japanese rock star, the 5th Element, and Britain's SAS.

Yes, I'm mad, why do you ask?





This chap's a character design for a piece of writing. No, I don't know why I named him Tequila, but his sister's named Voodoo Vivaldi, so my brain must be in 'generating punk band names' mode already:



And now, dear heavens, I stumble off to try and SLEEP before I wake up like death warmed over...

Fifteen Second Goldfish and Other Travellers' Tales

Taking the bus to get home from the city is like putting a goldfish out in the middle of the Autobahn and telling it to stay alive - and avoid getting run over. I have to take 2 buses to get home from work: I change off at one small, rickety-looking bus stop right smack at the side of a hellacious highway crossing and board the next sardine can to hell --I mean, highway to --well. You get the gist.

Yes, it's really that bad. There are people who can vouch for this, Constance being one of them.

I firmly believe that there is a Conspiracy afoot between the bus companies what own these trundling air-conditioned tin cans on wheels, and the corporations who build low-cost flats and condominiums. Actually, any sorts of flats or condominiums, really.

How many people can we squeeze into one of your buses? Don't worry about breathing or any amount of personal space...what's that? Oooh, 15 people standing only, not a problem, how many did you say you managed to fit in on top of 25 seated? 60 standing? Goodie! Make a note of that, Herman, for the next block of flats we're designing, we can afford to make 'em smaller with this sort of data as proof...

I have counted 60 people in a minibus designed to carry only 35 people. As I happened to be wedged under someone's armpit while the minibus in question was negotiating a 45 degree slope, I can put this down to personal experience. We won't go into the headache-inducing lovely smells that form a permanent part of these delightful character-building jaunts. I'm getting spasms just remembering this evening.

And the High Ups and City Councillations of Doom wonder why their campaign to Take Public Transportation and Save the Environment, Cut Down Traffic Jams, is about as effective as a limp sock being furiously shaken around by a rambunctious pup with bad breath.

***
Hullo there, I'm back after almost a month's absence, or so I've been reminded by a friend! There has been far too much going on in the Unseductive Real World, to whit, in point form:

1) The Big 5th Anniversary Concert - which went fantastically with 3 sold-out shows out of 5! And the best part of that was getting to meet the absolutely wonderful and lovely Constance who is even wonderfuller and lovelier in person. She is an amazingly talented artist, illustrator and a great writer to boot, go check out her site and fall in love. I promise you will!

2) New job - Yes, new job! I am now the administrator for the choral academy my choir sings under. And I'm loving it, despite being busy with copyright stuff for publishing scores, getting ready for the Asian Choir Games in November (which ain't that far off, eeeee), and handling a few last-minute gigs for the children's choir. I have access to pianos at work. I can practice the piano at work! How cool is that?

3) Post-apocalyptic costuming - Christmas is coming up and I'm costuming again. This time it's Post-apocalyptic 'Blade Runner Twelve Monkeys Dragon Tiger Gate Film Noir World' costuming and I'm actually excited about it. Hey. I get to watch movies I like while doing research. Mmmmmm. Movie night with my co-costumer! It's going to be a ton of work but it's also going to be just -great-. I can put some of the Cirque du Soleil style costuming tips to work in this one and be vastly wild and creative, which is lovely...

4) Writing - After being poked repeatedly by about 6 people, my brother included, I am slowly piecing together some writing that I might be able to throw at a publisher for consideration. I am terrified. It is not something I've ever had the guts to do but guts, glory, and lots of gore should provide entertainment for someone even if it's not me. I might need some test readers, should the time come around *cough cough cough*

5) Art - Nowhere as much of it as I should have, but for fun and to justify me keeping this blog, I present to you my latest two pieces: the Fifteen Second Goldfish and the Sushi Bar Lady.



This is pretty self-explanatory from the scribbled notes. I must add that these were the cutest, fattest goldfish I've seen in a while, orange and black, and they were too darned cute to resist pulling out the sketchbook for. (Yes I carry a sketchbook to dinner. Don't ask. I carry a sketchbook EVERYWHERE.) It's a great way to convince everyone you're insane, if they ever had any doubts. Also, fish swim really. Really. Fast.



I was at a cheap sushi place for dinner. This lady was sitting opposite me, so I tried to scribble her very quickly without being seen - in between spoonfuls of clam-and-tofu soup.

More to come later, I promise (yes Marcos, I didn't get eaten by the evil black hole what eats email and socks!)