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February 27, 2004
More yucky pencil
ATTN KATE: thbbbbbbbbbbbbbbpt!!
Posted by Eric Chapman at 11:30 AM | Comments (1)
February 24, 2004
Preach, brother, PREACH!
My friend, fellow student, and Dungeon Master Matt Meyer has elucidated on some of the finer points of living in that glorious hamlet of Sarasota, Florida. He speaks truth, o my brothers, and you should listen.
This is not a freak occurance. It is the norm. This has me thinking I should write a similar disertation on my adventures trying to get to the Pearl Art Supply store in Tampa last friday. Hmm.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 12:04 AM | Comments (0)
February 20, 2004
Water color
I havn't used water color in like 2 years. And even then I only did 2 or 3 peices with it.
So here's my watercolor Jazz poster, with room for text.
Best bit? The face:
As always, click the thumbnails to see the real deal.
Oh, and it looks like my Grandfather is going to pull through after all. Well, yeah, hooray and everything, except that the whole thing is awkard to me (I'll explain in a post at some point) and well, the way things are going, this is only a very temporary repreive. I have no idea how long it'll be till he gets rushed to the ICU in a dying state again, but I'm guessing it wont be long :( . As it is, he's on mind-bending amounts of anti-biotics for 6 months(!) and will be losing some fingers due to complete lack of blood.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 10:51 AM | Comments (1)
February 18, 2004
Yeah, it's there
Evidence that the news of my Grandfather's impending death has effected me in ways I'm not yet conscious of: I was at Walmart, just grabbing a couple quick things. Walking through the aisles, my eyes snapped to a greeting card on the end of one.
It said "Happy Easter Grandmom and Grandpop!"
... that last word hit me like a brick in the eye. My walking stuttered in mid-step. Then it was back to normal, walking away, feeling nervous about the effect that had on me and what may be to come.
Of course it didn't help that walking down the cleaner isle I inhaled a scent that reminded me of a girl I very much had a 'thing' for and very much was smashed to peices by. That was another bad few moments in my emotional psyche.
Then, later, while working on a project, I felt good and silly. Go fig.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 03:19 AM | Comments (0)
February 17, 2004
Death
I've just been informed that there's a 90% possibility that my grandfather, whom I went to New Jersey to visit last December, will not be alive in 24 hours.
This has started things moving in my mind that will not reach the surface for a little while yet. More on this later, I'm sure.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 06:47 PM | Comments (1)
Rorsharch #2
So, tell me: what is really going on here?
Posted by Eric Chapman at 01:07 AM | Comments (4)
February 15, 2004
Real world Rorsharch test #1
Here's a new segment I'm going to play with from time to time. I've had it on my mind to do this for a while.
Here's the deal. If you don't know what a Rorschach test is, click here for a definition. The short version is that you're handed a picture (traditionally of an abstract inkblot) which, by itself, doesn't really mean much. The trick is that you can gain insight into someone's personality by how they interpret the image. While one person might look at such an unadorned inkblot and see resemblances to a butterfly, another might see an exhumed pelvis bone, and another might see Godzilla doing X-rated things to an enormous mutant star-goat.
Thus, it is a good way to tell if someone is a sicko.
What I'm going to do is take photos or scans of various things I encounter that I think are worthy of testing people with. Heh heh heh. The idea here is to have fun. Don't go running to a psychiatrist if you see something demented. What I'm giving you is a metaphorical pair of loaded dice.
For the first image, I give you something that's right down the street from where I live, at an ice cream stand. What do you see?
This is what gave me the idea to do this whole thing in the first place, incidently.
Click the image for an enlarged version.
Post your responses below. Heh heh.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 10:05 PM | Comments (5)
The Story of Cynder (coming soon)
I've decided I'm going to write up one of my first Mage plots as a short story and post it sometime in the near future. I'm going to haze over the specific "Mage" stuff, though, so it works independantly of that setting. I may change character names too, so if someone reading this was actually involved in that plot and doesn't see their character named right, that's why. Thing is, it's been so long since then, there's only one player-character from the plot who's actions I remember specifically anyway, because it started with her. That would be Corryn. All others will have to have stand-ins. It's better that way for the general audience anyhow.
I'm going to be re-writing this, mind you. I've lost my original notes with the rest of my backups, so I'm just going on the major plot points I remember. This is one of my old favorites from my time running the game because certain bits of it are very near and dear to my heart. It was the first time I disturbed myself with my ability to imagine infernal machinations, and the first time I realised how gentle I am at heart at the same time, beneath the rough, spikey exterior.
Not sure when it'll be readable. Check back in the future for updates.. or subscribe to my rss feed. Don't know how to do that? Just looks like a bunch of code to you? Do you read a bunch of blogs, journals, and news sites, and would like to know when they're updated without checking each one? Go here. It's useful. Trust me. And it's free. And without spam. And almost every journal and news site has an rss feed you can use with it and not have to check them all manually.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 05:45 AM | Comments (0)
February 12, 2004
Received today..
Hi Eric,
Congratulations! Your piece -- man with wings floating above older man with gray beard -- has
been selected for CMYK. We already have a slide of the piece; however, we need to get some
additional information to them today. (I tried calling you at [number omitted], but it wasn't a working
number.) Please respond to me and to Don Brandes (email address omitted) with the following
information.
Title of the piece:
A short quote about the piece (one sentence):
Who was the instructor you had for the piece, if any:
Your mailing address, so they can send you a complimentary issue.
I will be here until 3:15 today, if you have any questions.
Many thanks,
Carol Brenholtz
Administrative Assistant
(email and phone number omitted)
---------------------
Wh-what?? huh? Whozzat?? Uhhh.. I don't understand! I didn't even like that peice! It was my first time using Painter! I'm much better now! Why is this old thing winning awards and honors?? Take something NEW for crying out loud..
Not to mention that I got told a little after noon that I needed to give them this information by 3:15 today.. at which point I was in a class untill 3:05. So I had 10 minutes to get home, check my email, and reply. Considering I didn't know this was waiting for me till after I got home, it's a good thing that's one of the first things I did. Sheesh.
Overall verdict: Suprised and cautiously happy.
Edit: (the next day) Mr. Brandes saw me hanging out side of my classroom this morning and pounced on me like a bookie on a deadbeat. He let me know that they didn't really need the info that quick. They needed it within a week, what they needed the same day was the digital file, which they had. The person that emailed me was mistaken. So it would've been alright if I hadn't gotten them the info. This is reassuring: I was beginning to wonder if doing-things-with-a-minute-to-spare was a norm for my industry.. which it probably is, in some respects. :)
Posted by Eric Chapman at 03:30 PM | Comments (4)
Yucky bathroom lighting makes me interesting!
Okay, so after I took the other bemused photo of myself I did get a couple usable photos.
Honestly that other one was an accident, I was just practicing pointing the camera at my face, then realised the mirror was dirty, and as I was contemplating it, I heard the camera go off. I had inadvertantly pressed the button. So then I looked at it and the result was priceless.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 03:40 AM | Comments (0)
February 11, 2004
My little moment of excitement
I have a rule about the practically-on-campus convenience store, aka the Shell station. That rule is: Don't Go There.
Try imagining that being said by the annoying blond guy who used to be on Saturday Night Live if you think it'll help.
So, one week ago tonight, I was at work. Well, work is a relative term: for me it means sitting in a nearly-empty computer lab, making sure that the 4 students (2 of whom I've known loosely for almost 4 years) don't decide to bust out the wire cutters and walk off with an entire Macintosh system. What really happens, though, is that everyone sits there staring determinedly at their screens, only breaking the silence to complain (to me) that the Lab's temperature is something just below arctic. They get little pity from me on this. I sit shirtless in a fifty degree bedroom sometimes. I like it cold, dammit! This is Florida! Winter is my time of the year to enjoy the temperature! You people get to enjoy every other part of the year, while I'm wiping sheets of sweat off of my forehead!
Where was I? Oh yeah, "one week ago tonight, I was at work." So I'm sitting there and I hadn't eaten since before noon that day, and the time was approaching midnight. I was hungry. I was thirsty. I needed to fix these problems. There's vending machines on campus, but most of what's offered to drink in them requires a-buck-twenty-five to get the robotic drink delivery arm to do your bidding, and I only had two one-dollar bills in my pocket. If I was lucky, I could get a drink and a candy bar to make me more thirsty than when I started. No, I wanted combos, dammit! So then I had to think of the other option: the Shell Station.
Don't Go There.
Naturally, I decided to go. If I'm brisk at my pace, I wont be gone long enough for anyone to notice and I can get better stuff with my larger bills. I normally avoid that place like a cat avoids the shark tank at Sea World, but I'd heard enough people tell me that it's not that bad really, nothing's ever happened to them, after all. It's all just hype and fear.
I should know not to believe anything anyone says by now. I mean, really.
For the un-initiated (aka those who don't owe their soul to Student Loan Collectors thanks to Ringling), you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy than the Shell station. That is to say, you wont find one without going more than 100 feet off campus. It's that close.
At one point last year it was held up three separate times, three weeks in a row, on the same day of the week and same time of the late night/early morning. At gun point. This kind of crime is a regular occurrence there. Every year Ringling Public Safety puts out some kind of missive, beseeching the students: "For the love of God and all that is holy, don't go to the Shell station! Ever! For any reason! Parents sue us when their kids get killed!!" or something to that effect.
Does this stop people? No. The school even went through the trouble of opening a time portal to the future and bringing back a vending machine from another civilization, complete with robotic elevator arm and conveyor belt for prompt, fizz-less refreshment delivery, all to de-necessitate trips to the Shell station. One of these machines has a whirling sandwich dispenser, like a gatling cannon of wholesome, sandwichy goodness. All these wonderful products cost a little more than one dollar, and accept nothing larger than a one-dollar bill. There are no change machines.
Soooo if you've got a fiver or something larger, you go to Shell, get your change, and make a nice target for anyone looking for to make an easy addition to their own wallet by force. Thanks, Ringling!
But, no, it's okay, people tell me. The Shell station really isn't that bad. It's not as bad as they say. It's not even that scary.
Flash back to last Wednesday night. Don't have the requisite small bills for anything substantial. A kitkat won't do it. I have to go to shell. I know, I know, Don't Go There. But I went.
All the way there, intuition was telling me that This Was Not The Time To Chance A Shell Run. Danger, danger Will Robinson! Red Alert! The British are coming, the British are coming!
... wait. I'm British. Partially. I'm also part everything else in Europe and North Asian, if you want to get technical. I've even got Cherokee blood, just like everyone else!
So I get to the Shell station. There's cars out among the gas pumps, like woodland creatures gathered in peaceful communion around a stream of fresh water for a refreshing sip. There's people lurking around, sure, and in a way that doesn't seem friendly, but that could just be me: I'm paranoid. I assume that nobody I meet on the street is friendly by default. So I go in, I look around, decide on Coke, Combos, and M&Ms. The person who was inside already when I got there, paid and left in a hurry before I reached the counter. S'okay, people always seem to be leaving there in a hurry. Nothing unusual for the Shell station, I tell myself.
Headed over to the counter and put my stuff down for the cash out. The clerks ignore me. I get annoyed. I just kind of stare at them, but they're not looking at me, they're looking outside. I thought they were being rude. That's when I hear the yelling.
Someone outside was being jumped by a gang of thugs, one of which was the guy who left the store in a hurry. Apparently he heard some kind of modern telepathic call to battle-stations, like psychic buccaneers on a new age pirate ship. Arrrrr! Dig for buried quartz power crystals, mateys! Me spirit guide says thar be mountains of em! Feng Shui marks the spot!
Yeah they were black. Yeah the victim was a skinny middle-aged white guy with glasses. I figure we should get that out of the way. They're just the facts of the matter, I'm not trying to make some kind of racial statement.
Because of how the store was built, a large section of concrete wall was blocking me from getting a good view of what was going on. I realize now it might be that way to prevent people outside from seeing who's getting what cash at the counter inside. Smart. But what I did see was the guy who was inside a moment ago aggressively holding someone in place with a malicious grin on his face, and the car he was bracing himself against was rocking. Like, someone-against-it-is-getting-the-almighty-crap-beaten-out-of them kind of rocking.
Oh great, I think. So after they're done out there, they come in, rob the place, take what little I have, maybe shoot me, and leave.
The victim got away. He dashed for the store, got inside, and blurted out "caullth'police..!" in what I can only describe as a screamed mumble. He was in full-on fight-or-flight mode, obviously having taken choice number two. You could tell: his entire body was shaking. His knees were jittering the rest of him up and down like a jackhammer. So I just gawk at the guy in disbelief. Is this shit happening? He looks back at me...
... and OF COURSE he has to hide behind me. Great. Just great.
I'm 6' 4.5" tall, wide enough to have to buy two seats on an airplane (or impersonate a particularly large NFL linebacker), and look strong enough to use Ringling's 8-foot-long tables as melee weapons. In fact I can, provided my target isn't moving very fast. I grew up fast. I was 6 feet tall at 14. People used to take turns in high school, getting a running start, to try to see if they could knock me down, or even just move me an inch. Let me tell you the answer: the mountain does not move. Not once. Look at that user pic in the right hand column. See that big dark form? Imagine it looming a good 8-10 inches over your eye level. That's just a guess, but it's accurate for most people I know. So, yeah, I can sorta understand why the guy hid behind me.
In fact, I would've ran around and hid behind myself if I could do it without turning myself inside out and imploding in the process. Hell, maybe in some quantum physics book it's possible, but dammit I'm an art student. Color theory, not quantum theory!
Intimidating size and strength works well on your average lone ne'er-do-well. It does not work on a gang of thugs from the Ghetto (which is just a few blocks down the road by the way, so I mean that when I say it). It especially does not work on anyone armed with anything that is sharp or comes with an ammunition clip, which I suspect they had, somewhere, though they didn't use them here.
Aren't I supposed to be watching a lab full of expensive computer equipment right now?
The clerks were great. Handled the situation like veterans. Okay, so they watched with amused expressions as the guy was getting mugged, not moving to stop it, but as soon as he entered the store (thus getting them involved), they went to work. The lead clerk came over and held the door locked with his key to keep the thugs out while the other clerk held the phone with his finger on the police's speed dial. When one thug came by, trying to do the 'why're you calling the police, bro?' routine, the lead clerk yelled back that he had to leave.
I'll skip some details; let it be known that after they all got back into their car and took off, I finally un-planted my feet from the floor. They had been firmly rooted in place from the moment I heard the yelling outside. It's my standard response to danger: the mountain does not move. When you know running or just trying to be light on your feet just isn't an option, the next best thing is to plant yourself in one spot and tell that big doomish nasty thing that, no matter what it's going to try, it shall not pass!
The quivering man behind me looked like a frightened meerkat.
After they left, the Clerks got this aura of satisfaction about them. They've been through this before and got through it tonight without any problems. Thus it was a good night. The victim went out the door and left the premises: I know reality does not allow for Superman-styled flight, but I swear that man's feet did not touch the ground all the way out. The clerk who took point in the standoff started talking to me. "They were going to kill that guy." The two clerks mused back and forth about what started it, suggesting maybe he tried to get some drugs off them but didn't have any money. I dunno, it's possible. I didn't see much of what happened, really, from my side of the wall of concrete. The clerk said to me "You know, this stuff happens all the time. Black people around here, they're no good. I mean, I'm black, alright, but these black people, around here. They're no good. Just bad people."
He asked me which way I was leaving, I told him, and he said not to go that way. it's dangerous. Sometimes thugs leave the front of the store and lurk around nearby, waiting for someone to walk by on their way out and jump them. I informed them I had little choice, since I was a student. I had to get back on campus.
This is where that clerk scored major bonus points with me, over and above what he got for handling the hostile situation as well as he did: he nodded, said I'd be alright, grabbed his cordless phone, followed me outside, and watched from his parking lot with the phone ready while I walked back to campus, in case he needed to call the police. He'd told me earlier that they could get there in under 30 seconds if he needed them.
I took the long way back to my lab: the long way involves walking past the Ringling Public Safety office, where the Security Guards congregate between patrols. It wasn't an issue though, I got back to my lab in one piece, and proceeded to enjoy my combos in between moments of jumping at every little rustle I hear behind me.
The Shell station rule has been changed. The rule is now "Don't Go There, Ever, For Any Reason, Even If You're Really Hungry, Just Stoppit, No, Bad Eric." This is the first time I've been there in this whole school year and I was very nearly involved in a violent robbery. I don't know how it started, but if they just picked a lone unsuspecting victim at random and I'd been about 20 seconds later in getting there, it could've been me.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 11:04 PM | Comments (4)
Meanwhile..
Doing a self portrait, needed a photo to work from..
(clicky)
and I'm thinkin'.. maybe I should clean this mirror first.
Posted by Eric Chapman at 09:36 AM | Comments (1)