Final Project

Yup.



I'd like to make the rest look pretty, but it's clear for now!

You know what kids really love? Copyrighted characters. Seriously.

Had to go to a private school for disabled children today and draw. It was completely irrelevant to the class I'm in, and I got pretty lost getting there. It is fun enough to just sit around and draw, so I can't complain!

The first is a comic I simply drew for a kid who I prompted after every panel, ended up Wtih Stewie Griffon fighting a penguin, the Kooliad guy, and a dolphin. The chicken wakes up with his wife, Red Bull. I had no reference to draw from, and the kid had to remind me that Stewie has no nose (which wasn't true now that I see him but whatever), but otherwise I was pretty surprised I could even draw him. He hilariously also insisted on coming up with catch phrases for eery time someone got hurt, which was very Family Guy, and amused me.

Then I was moved to another room with a group of little girls, where we drew whatever someone mentioned. I drew a lot of cute monsters but I didn't get a picture. I liked how Minnie and the Nidoran turned out though.

I mentioned to them that I drew Mickey wrong because he shouldn't have teeth except when he needed them (But I like teeth damn it) and the other RCAD students were like "Woah really", but the kids were all, "Well of course."

"Family Story"

Last Last Last Last Last week's assignment was to write down a family story, hopefully in script-ish format. Well, We have no shortage of those, but none of the are quite that long. Or.. not what I manage to remember.

Most I remember take place at The Cabin.


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The Cabin is a simple enough name for a simple enough place. Easily nearing fifty years old, it was once an old hunter's club. The Mackey Griswold cabin.

The Mackeys and the Griswolds have been friends for so long that we simply call each other cousins most of the time. A good part of the time, I forget we're not related.

It began as wooden cube with no heating, no electricity. Years later, it even got an out-house. It was plastered with guns and pin ups, and still is. Oh, it has grown over the years.

First it was extended, a fireplace added. Next, a kitchen. A second fire place. A garage. A second floor. Electricity, and by the time my Dad can remember, running water. He told me once how he thought it was a horrible idea, how he didn't want it to change. (I had been complaining about the new walls on the tired walls of the second floor)

 Its exterior is classic cabin red, its roof shingled grey. Its surrounded by thick old forest, a mile path back to a series of lakes. Cans on strings serve as make shift windchimes, hung on the log shed. an old scythe leans on the shed, a rusty, olive green propane tank is wedged between two enormous pines. Dirt up to the door, with a crumbling concrete step covered in moss. Even removing the door under the kitchen sink, one can easily reach the ground again. The pipes stick out of the hollowed dirt.  

Backing up a paragraph, The first Cabin story takes place when Dad was a kid. The youngest of four, but that's not the point. The point is, it was pouring rain outside. Buckets.

I'm willing to bet that the Cabin, like it usually is, was full to the brim of people. Because if there's something the cabin is good at, it's being packed to the brim of Griswolds and Mackeys. (Or not at all, for long, looong stretches of time.) Maybe it was even Thanksgiving- Or I think so because this story resurfaces on Turkey Day.

Anyway, The Cabin, being full to the brim of people, happened to have a pretty good chance of having some of those people pointing in the general direction of its windows. And some of those people eventually noticed it wasn't just buckets of rain and trees outside.

There was also a mother Raccoon, and her babies. Three or four in all, and she was cramming them one by one under The Cabin.The thing with the three or four baby coons was that she never ran out. So long as she was shoving another coon under The Cabin, another was scrambling back out and back into line. As everyone watched, Mama coon kept right on grabbing and shoving, grabbing and shoving.

She quickly became the main show. Buckets of rain or not, she was going to get her kids under that cabin. The baby coons might as well have been giggling  along with the onlookers, skittering back into line while Mama Coon's back was turned.

It took over and hour before the gears in Mama Coons little brain started turning. Slowly. I wonder if Coons can count. Soon enough, some twelve hundred babies under the cabin, (according to Coon Math) she stopped and turned to look at her line. Three babies, and another hopping back in line. Back to the hole under The Cabin. Exactly zero of the hundred coons she'd put remained.

Well, Mama Coon said in Coon, Fukallyoo. She crawled under the cabin herself, leaving the babies to attempt to cram themselves in after her.

DREAM SCRIPT

The main character, a girl of about 10-12, wakes up in the middle of a parking lot. Wide panel, girl is small. Three panels until a close up on her squinting into the sky.

A few birds circle in the sky, she gets up and starts walking.

Two pages, walking in a parking lot. The sky is cloudless, only a few birds are circling. Any cars are spaced few and far between, and decaying.

Finally, a voice enters, with a speech bubble coming from near the girl, though it is not her voice.

V: Nice day.

Shot of the girl looking almost directly at the viewer.. The voice continues.

V: Still, all this walking will get you nowhere.

The girl is looking confused, but is not alarmed.

V: It’s time to go up, I think.

The voice reveals itself as a woman, only about thirty.  She is dark skinned and elegant, wearing dark clothing that drapes over her. The girl doesn’t seem to bothered, but expresses interest when a rope comes seemingly from the sky.  ( long vertical panel, only the rope against the sky, the girl and woman at the bottom)

The girl wordlessly beings to climb the rope. A full body panel, then one of the hands grasping it. Another panel reveals the rope is yanked upwards.

The woman stays below, and is left off screen.

The next pane is of the girl climbing onto a balcony. The balcony is revealed to be attached to a theatre, that is consumed by clouds at its base.

The girl stands up and is faced with a crowd of people standing  silently on the small balcony. (birds are still flying above the clouds). The girl looks around, seeing only where she came from and an entrance on the front of the building (on the balcony) that is closed.

The voice reappears. (the speech bubble appears first, over the girl’s head. A second panel reveals the woman)

V: I am here to pick up my artwork.

The expressionless crowd parts enough for the woman to slip through, she walks right through the door, but the girl is cut off as the crowd assumes their original positions.  The girl, frustrated, sits down on the floor.

The girl noticed the birds are circling closer, and more are landing on the balcony railing.  As she looks around, she notices they are beginning to chew and peck at the crowd.  The crowd doesn’t seem concerned until one bird begins ripping at the clothes, quickly followed by the others.

The crowd is alarmed. The girl is cornered as the crowd panics in the small space. She reaches down and takes off her boot to throw at the birds. The birds disperse for the moment, just in time for the woman to re-emerge from the building.

The woman has a large canvas that is framed under her arm. She takes in the situation and rushes through the crowd, pushing herself and the girl off the balcony.

The girl, believing she is going to die, screams. The woman only closes her eyes. The canvas painting gains flight, stopping their fall.

The girl looks at the woman with surprise, and is met with a slight smile. The girl is reassured and looks out into the open sky as the canvas flies them away from the theatre.

Dream Achetype

The only dream I’ve had recently:

I fell asleep on my friend’s couch after a few days of two hour nights.  

The dream cut into my friend and I walking across the campus parking lot, heading towards an enormous theatre that definitely does not actually exist. We climbed a rope ladder to a balcony, and she explained she had to pick up her artwork.

The balcony was small, 5x6’ish and was full of students standing, waiting for nothing in particular. It wasn’t long before horrible CG birds appeared, floating on the sides, flapping only their wing tips. We took this as a good reason to leave, but halfway back to the dorm, I realized I’d forgotten my boots. Once again, I climbed the rope ladder back up, retrieved my boots, and found all of the students on the balcony laying down.

They were all Computer animation students, taking naps. In a moment of great clarity, I commented I was taking a nap as well. I referred to it as a “rage quit”. The students and I waxed poetic about hating life and our major. I climbed back down the ladder, now feeling anxious that I had left my first friends’ house without saying good bye and that I couldn’t even remember doing so.

Then, I woke up on their couch. 

The only thing this seems like it would spawn would be a “slice of life comic. It was  very boring dream. Perhaps a dream about birds attacking, with a character that is completely indifferent and more concerned with social

Fantasy rewrite

Ginger

Clearheaded

Absurd

Businesslike

Fox

Aggressive conversationalist

Social outcast

Optimistic

Once, long, long ago, a woman and a man seeking the perfect child baked a gingerbread man. Clearly, this was a reasonable plan, for they were both very confused, and often ignored their actual children. 

But when the cookie was ready and the woman opened the oven, the little man leapt from the sheet and sprinted away.

Old woman: Stop!

Ginger: What is it?

Old Woman: you can’t go outside, you’re naked! I must dress you.

The old woman gestures to a collection of mints and gummy candies, as well as a tube of frosting.  Another panel is dedicated to ginger considering. Then, in a  separate panel:

Ginger: Yes, you’re right! How silly of me.

Ginger returns to the table, and waits patiently for the woman to dress him. In candy.

Ginger: Thank you for your helpfulness, madam. I must be on my way, now.

Ginger hops off the table and races out the door. The old woman and her husband run to the door, exchange a look, and set off in pursuit.

The fox, now up to her ears in water, is paddling furiously, Ginger standing tip toe on her nose. The shore is in the distance, a bit below eye level.

Ginger: There it is! The shore! Faster,  Faster!

Fox: Oh, yes, right away, I am quite tired, but you have to promise me we’re in this together, now, right?

Ginger: Excuse me?

Fox: I thought we really bonded, you know, this running from the man, and all.

Ginger: You mean an old couple with surprising agility. And “Bonded”? We’ve only just met.

The fox is panting and paddling still, but she looks frustrated.

Fox: Yes, but you listen to me! I’m sick of people not listening! Not speaking animal is no excuse anyway! This whole time you haven’t complained at all about my blathering, and most people ignore me. Therefore, I’ve declared us friends.

Ginger (speaking over fox, who continues to ramble): That could have something to do with the fact that you’re serving as my watercraft, and it’s in poor taste to talk down to one’s means of transport. 

They reach the shore, fox still rambling, having forgotten she was frustrated at all.

Ginger: Oh, we’ve made it! A partnership it is, you fine beast! Now, Let us ride!

THIS BLOG

This blog is for my Writing Comics and the Graphic Narrative. Expect many 1am updates on sundays.