It’s Solstice Time, which is a great thing. I think maybe New Year’s being in the middle of the winter does make some sort of sense, in that we’ve made it to the turning point where the nights can’t get any longer. I don’t know. Pagans and animals and people, am I right?

This pig head showed up in an empty lot down the block since August, when I drew it. Now it’s gotten frostbite and lost an ear. It’s blackened and maybe even creepier than it was then. Anyhow…It’s outlined in black on the left, resting on a plastic bag. I gave it another go on the right, going for more of a contour type of thing. I don’t know how well you can see it, but what should I care? It’s my fuckin’ sketchbook! Fuck you! Who do you think you are!?

I’m sick of spelling. I’m sure everybody else in the world is too. Why not make phonics actually work, especially if that’s how we’re going to teach people to read and to write? Wouldn’t it make sense to condense our language a bit? (Wudn’t it maak sens too kondens aur laqwij a bit?)

Nobody needs Q as it is. But, Q looks similar to G, so it can be NG.
X is also useless, but since it’s like a crooked T, it can stand in for TH.
No need for Z either, so turn that backwards S into SH!
C can be replaced by K or S where it makes those sounds, but we need it for CH, so it will do that on its own.
G will always be hard G, J will always be soft J.

Now, I admit the vowels are much harder. This is probably the most imperfect part of my New Spelling, and I admit it could use some work. But I’m trying to avoid accents and letter combinations, and to use only the letters we already have. Then again, the vowels as they stand are pretty freakin’ imperfect.

A alone is hard like cat
AA is long like ate
E is like ebb
EE is like pee
I is like imp
II is like eye
O is like pot (and like walk)
OO is like oar
U is like up (and like what, and at least for now, also like bird)
UU is like poo
Y is a consonant!

Ookaa, yuu kan luk foor moor uv xis in xu fyuucur. Heer’s a kupl droweeqs, boox storted wix xu litl droweeqs of karakturs II’m wurkeeq on and xen II druu giis on xu traan:

It’s about time there were some sketches on this sketchblog. These are both recent drawings. The first is a subway sketch. I usually draw old men, or at least weird-looking men so that people don’t think I’m a perv. I suppose I could have a Weird Old Man perversion…

The second one came from reading Ivan Brunetti’s little lesson plan pamphlet in the most recent Comic Art. He was talking about how, when you draw somebody else’s character fast and without reference, the character maintains her defining characteristics and gains a certain charm. Actually, I drew that blissed-out naked guy first, then Charlie Brown, then Snoopy, and then the fart bubbles and thought bubbles. Man, two posts with Charlie Brown involved, and I’m not even a fan — blah blah blah, some visual blog this is!

I’m feeling lost sans sketchbook, sans hard drive, sans backpack, sans everything. Guess that’s why I’m writing a blog post!

I just had, I think, the nicest moment I’ve ever had with a stranger. I was staring out the window, head on the glass, gazing down at the 20-something Halloween party people, and thinking about the stages of costume. About how kids dress up and get candy, fifteen-year-olds wear their regular clothes – maybe a mask on the top of their heads – and expect candy, and young real people dress up really lavishly and get wasted. I saw what looked like a Slutty Eskimo, and I was thinking of a stand-up bit, about costume stages, about how long can this slut stuff go on.

And then I was thinking about how I keep thinking in stand-up lately. (White people need instructions, that’s how to make a hit song. Instructions for a dance. The Electric Slide, The Hustle, The Macarena, The Soulja Boy. We’re not like black people. Black people are real. That’s why they all dress the same and walk the same and say the same things and even stand the same. [big laugh] I’m sorry, I don’t really feel this way … and I know I better not talk this way! [bigger laugh!] No no, seriously though, I don’t think that political correctness is a bad thing. I think it really has helped black people, and women, you know, approach something like equality. But it really must have been nice when they would cook you dinner and clean up the house for you … Black people, I mean [kills!].)

Then I thought about how I was pretty sure I’ve heard the Slutty Eskimo bit before. Turns out it’s a real costume, not just a joke. Then a woman on the sidewalk looked up and our eyes met. A little older than me, normal clothes. I smiled my instinctual, eye-contact-with-a-stranger half smile. I was at work. At work, you smile at every person you see, and that’s how they know you work there.

I don’t know if it was the skeleton shirt I had on, or the way I must have looked like a kid in detention watching the other kids at recess, but she smiled back. And I smiled big. And she smiled big too. And then I got embarrassed and looked at a manhole, but I was still smiling.

This is the pumpkin my roommates and I made.

Me, Megan

Megan, Todd