if you wait long enough only the universes without a black hole will be signifigant so information is preserved – Stephen Hawking

Jeff and I watched a Stephen Hawking special the other day, & this quote seemed signifigant at the time.  So much for staying alive right? I don’t know you guys, I have been doing the same thing for so long,  I think I’m just going to keep doing it.  It’s almost a year now since Jeff and I started our weight loss program, both of us have been pretty successful at it – I still remember how I felt when we started though  – how difficult it was to get around the track even one time, and now I can go six times and it kind of feels like not enough?  What I learned I think is that it IS possible to change, and how you do it is by making small choices  every day that seem pointless at the time, but are actually super important.  Pretty soon I am going to slap a ComixPress theme on here and start posting Cherry Spaceship.  I’ll try not to lose the past posts in the process, but I’m not going to cry too much if I do.  Even if I have to start the comic out one page at a time, and feel not really sure about where I’m going or what I’m doing, I’m still going to do it and I’m going to trust the one foot in front of the other thing that I’ve got going on here and hope it takes us somewhere cool.

Philostratus the Younger, Imagines 2 (trans. Fairbanks) (Greek rhetorician C3rd A.D.) :
“[Ostensibly a description of an ancient Greek painting :] Marsyas. The Phrygian has been overcome; at any rate his glance is that of a man already perished, since he knows what he is to suffer, and he realizes that he has played the flute for the last time, inasmuch as inopportunely he acted with effrontery toward [Apollon] the son of Leto. His flute has been thrown away, condemned never to be played again, since just now it has been convicted of playing out of tune. And he stands near the pine tree from which he knows he will be suspended, he himself having named this penalty for himself–to be skinned for a wine-sack. He glances furtively at the barbarian yonder who is whetting the edge of the knife to be applied to him; for you see, I am sure, that the man’s hands are on the whetstone and the iron, but that he looks up at Marsyas with glaring eyes, his wild and squalid hair all bristling. The red on his cheek betokens, I think, a man thirsty for blood, and his eyebrow overhands the eye, all contracted as it faces the light and giving a certain stamp to his anger; nay, he grins, too, a savage grin in anticipation of what he is about to do–I am not sure whether because he is glad or because his mind swells in pride as he looks forward to the slaughter. But Apollon is painted as resting upon a rock; the lyre which lies on his left arm is still being struck by his left hand in gentle fashion, as though playing a tune. You see the relaxed form of the god and the smile lighting up his face; his right hand rests on his lap, gently grasping the plectrum, relaxed because of his joy in the victory. Here also is the river which is to change its name to that of Marsyas. And look, please, at the band of Satyroi, how they are represented as bewailing Marsyas, but as displaying, along with their grief, their playful spirit and their disposition to leap about.”

http://art.pro.tok2.com/V/Vedder/vedd008.jpg

In Salvador Dali’s “Fifty Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship”, he mentions that painters should not live in a land filled with green. If you are going to have green let it be the peaceful silver green of olives and myrtles, as the screaming oxygen vomiting chlorophillic greens that surround us here in western pennsylvainia will suck the painters will right out of you.  Also flowers, also the sea. Painters are delicate and thier eye is fragile. Too much breaks things, so have a care what you turn your eye to, painters!  Dali, savior of painting, talks through his moustache at us, you are meant to paint, not drown, so don’t drown it in it!

Late July is my favorite time of year for flowers, the tail end of daisys, the full glory of the orange day lilies, and the queen anne’s lace just starting to wake up alongside the less common, but prettiest when it happens cornflower blue flower that pops up on the edges of the queen anne’s lace. The corn is high and vibrates that green screaming noise over the rolling hillsides, and most days are sunny and blue and full of fat fluffy clouds.  I spend my time motoring around in my tiny silver car, drowning with a smile.

Life has not always been as good as it is now, and sometimes it feels like, never mind the green and the flowers,  I’d be fine drowning just in how greatful I am.

My grandfather passed away last month. My grandfather and I had been sadly estranged for the past couple of years, because of the evil curse my family labors under, but the last thing he ever gave me was a golden book of Dali paintings. It sits by the treadmill in the basement, as I like to put it up on the magazine rack and stare at Columbus Discovering America as I sweat out my three miles. It feels good, and I’m greatful.

My sister put on a world class bridal shower for me this past weekend, followed by a night of epic partying with our ridiculously awesome friends. In little over two months I get to marry my best friend, and it’s all starting to feel like the countdown to christmas.

This week I get to wait out on amazing news of a dear friend of mine possibly being prego, and there is a new issue of Phonogram out.  (buy it!) You may notice my name in there, as this is the issue my backup Indie Dave short runs. It vibrates weird in my head like an inside out mirror, but there it is. From the first time I read something of Kieron’s writing and he called all the trees sluts, I knew we would be jolly friends. Without him I never would have made it over here to this land where everything I see is wonderful all the time, and I will never forget the lessons I learned fighting by his side in the comics trenches. Long live Comics and Dali and green growing things that scream!

I drove across Pennsylvania this week to meet my brother’s first son, Elijah Joseph Onuska. He has the cutest most smooshable monkey face. On the way there, I listened to Heretic Pride, on the way back, I listened to Sarah Vowell read Assassination Vacation. I might have died and been born over one thousand times or more.

Today I finished Live From New York, An Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live, As Told By It’s Stars, Writers, and Guests. My favorite person on Saturday night live will always be Brian Hooper, who would re-do all the funny parts with his friends every Monday during art class, but these guys were cool too. Lorne has lunch with Paul McCartney a lot, by the way.

I started Anathem and I’m ok with that being like it is, I think it’s going to be fun.

Human life is truly a short affair. It is better to live doing the things that you like. It is foolish to live within this dream of a world seeing unpleasantness and doing only things that you do not like. But it is important never to tell this to young people as it is something that would be harmful if incorrectly understood.

Personally, I like to sleep. And I intend to appropriately confine myself more and more to my living quarters and pass my life away sleeping.

– The Hagakure

“This session was, I believe, an event unique to Warner Bros. Unique at that time, perhaps anytime. Because this was not a brainstorming session in the usual sense, it was a “yes” session, not an “anything goes” session. Anything went, but only if it was positive, supportive, and affirmative to the premise. No negatives were allowed. If you could not contribute, you kept quiet. For want of a better term, I have always called it . . . THE “YES” SESSION. Again, the “yes” session is not a brainstorming session; repeat, it is not a session in which anything goes. The purpose is to advance an idea or ideas, not an emotional outburst for the emotional benefit of the participants or as a story man’s confession of a buried affair with a girl’s track shoe. The “yes” session only has one objective: to write a story.

The “yes” session imposes only one discipline: the abolition of the word “no.” Anyone can say “no.” It is the first word a child learns and often the first word he speaks. It is a cheap word because it requires no explanation, and many men and women have acquired a reputation for intelligence who know only this word and have used it in place of thought on every occasion. The “yes” session lasts only for two hours, but a person who can only say “no” finds it an eternity. Negative-minded people have been known to finally inflate and burst with accumulated negatives and say something positive, because it is also true that a person who heretofore can only say “no” is also a person who must say something.

A “no” is defined by any negative: “I don’t like it.” “There must be a better way.” “I don’t like to criticize but . . .” “I’ve heard that one before.” “I don’t know.” Or: “Oh for Christ’s sake, Chuck.” All are roadblocks impeding the advancement and exploration of the value of an idea and are forbidden.

Of course, all story ideas are not good or useful, and if you find you cannot contribute, then silence is proper, but it is surprising how meaty and muscular a little old stringy “yes” (which is another name for a premise) can become in as little as fifteen or twenty minutes, when everyone present unreservedly commits his immediate impulsive and positive response to it. And, of course, the enlightened self-interest of pouring your contributions unreservedly out in another director’s story session is sufficient motivation; your turn will inevitably come to present an idea to the group in another session, and at such a time you, too, will want, need, and expect full cooperation. A good premise always generates the most astonishing results.”

-Chuck Jones, from CHUCK AMUCK, THE LIFE AND TIMES OF AN ANIMATED CARTOONIST