Dang, That’s Mighty Fine

So I got those posters up in shops all around town, and they’re looking mighty fine!

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People in town were fantastic, really supportive. I’m still learning to be confident about my work, so that people were so receptive to having me put posters in their shops, and promising to listen to the radio interview, I really appreciated it.

:_) Oh hometown, I heart you.

If you’ve moved away from your hometown, do you miss it? Or are you glad to have moved on?

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Devil Thunder

In need of posters for the upcoming book launch, I picked a hand drawn chapter head from my original draft and completely redid it digitally. This was something of an adventure in itself, as the original had to be scanned at high res, traced, touched up, coloured, a new background and text added – pretty much every part of the design was tweaked, and absolutely every part of it was redone.

Here’s the original, for the chapter called ‘Devil Thunder’ (about a six-legged race horse). The characters here are villains, or at least what passes for villains in the Fallouts, which mainly means they’re decent and sometimes crazy people being misled by someone totally demented.

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Yeah wow, parts of this make me cringe! Here’s the redone version:

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Well, Jzarks, the one with the bag on his head, hasn’t changed much. But he’s the most similar. It took a few days to do this, 20 hours or so, and I’m really pleased with the results, especially compared to the original. It has a vibrancy and smoothness which was impossible to create in the original with a looming deadline and another 35 chapter heads demanding attention. Although this was the only full colour chapter head that I used, and all this was back in the days before the Fallouts was picked up.

Typing the story now, four years after I wrote the drafts for the series, so much has changed. The series is certainly massive, and I have mountains of information for continuity and detail. I’m up to typing volume 3 and it sometimes seems like a totally different story to what it was. Certainly the scope of it expanded immensely even as I wrote the drafts (a process which took about six months, with six weeks for each of the four stories). Then as I started typing, side characters took on a life of their own and what was already a complex and interwoven story became what seems to be a mass of snakes sometimes, but it all comes in, eventually, and it all knows its place.

If you want to write, my best advice is to write. Every day, no excuses. No matter if you don’t get much down, just do it, ’cause it ain’t gonna write itself.

Other than that, I should keep writing to my other blog. >:0

Have a great night, lots of fun.

The moral of the story is, always

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Star Leaves in Park

An infectious song is spreading around our household. It’s quite an inspired take on “Loving me Softly, With His Song”. It’s of course much too rude to be reproduced here.

At Sax’s insistence, in Tumut, today we went for a walk in the park.

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This is Richmond Park, which used to be wild, but in the past ten years or so has been cut back into a half block of lovely landscaped garden. While part of me feels this is a shame, it certainly is now to the enjoyment of the public, rather than just wild, feral children like myself. The flowers along with the non-native trees make for some brilliant colours and textures not often seen in our local parks, such as;

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these waterside orange canna flowers, and their scarlet neighbours;

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and this beautiful dappled light through the sweetgum leaves;

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This gorgeous scenery comes at a price, however, as the council was keen to note:

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Advice duly noted, signpost. Pity the sign doesn’t list common warning signs associated with falling pine cones, so that park users may have that slight heads-up and chance to escape before a bump on the head and a three day concussion.

 

 

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Skeletons in the Shower

While some people have skeletons in the closet, we house mates like to keep our skeletons where everyone else can see them – namely, in the shower. Yeah, everyone getting down and wet with everyone else’s skeletons; it’s a wild world, baby.

This is our resident skeleton, Marjorie.

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I’m really happy that I took this photo on my last morning in the old apartment, where beyond Marjorie our shower window (of course) had a great view over the Bathurst CBD’s most commercial intersection (exactly what you want to look at in the shower). Although of course the shower window had to be closed after every shower, otherwise the pigeons who live in the Coles ‘e’ would spy an opportunity for somewhere even less opportune to live, and throw themselves into our bathroom.

When Ryan first moved into the apartment, the real estate agent made the fatal mistake of leaving the shower window open. Pigeons had gotten into the bathroom, panicked, and there was shit everywhere. Actual shit, actually everywhere. We managed not to repeat the mistake.

Anyway, by time I got back from Bathurst, a week and a half after this photo was taken, Marjorie was gone. Gone! Dead! Someone had ripped her down and thrown her in the trash as if she was just a – just a – just a $2 Halloween sticker on a bathroom wall.

And that, my friends, is the true skeleton of the redbrick apartment. The secret identity of the cold-hearted murderer who threw out my Marjorie.

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An Urban Dream

I’m going to be in a spot of trouble after this post, as this was my last day in Bathurst for about ten days, and during the first half of that I had to rely on my old phone and my father’s camera to take pictures. I was also working pretty much all day and not doing much in the way of adventure (boo, I know). So there may be photos and there may not be. If I can’t find anything here with me in Bathurst, I’ll upload the missing time when I go back to Tumut.

CRISIS AVERTED

Yep, everyone can go back to their cubicles. The building is not on fire, I repeat, well, you heard me the first time, the second time I’m still going to be talking crap, let’s get on with this!

The plan was to spend a week in Tumut finalising details for the book launch, then have the book launch, come back to Bathurst, and move into our new place. This had to be timed perfectly so that I could bring Sax with me to finally live in Bathurst (yeey!) and co-ordinate that with signing the lease. Since I left Ryan earlier in the week (and came back) I was very handily already packed, and so didn’t have to worry about organising my stuff before we moved. That made things simpler, and also made time for a hike around Boundary Road Reserve, which backs onto the university at the foot of Mount Panorama.

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Although since we’re looking down at Bathurst, I suppose the university is really on the belly bulge of Mount Pan, and not the foot.

Along the way, we found this interesting fruit:

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Labyrinth apple! We found a whole tree of them, and they made me look so photogenic that Ryan took this picture:

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All of the photogenes.

Back at the old place, the rain was setting in, so I took this opportunity to get one last picture (actually I took two, but this is the first and it’s the best), with the Coles sign lit up such a romantic shade of neon red in the background (note the pigeons living in the ‘e’), our door there to the left, the many mysterious buildings which were occasionally inhabited by other people, the good old 1920s plumbing clinging to the second storey redbrick wall… ah, I miss that place.

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Isn’t it a beauty? Although what I don’t miss is the construction crews working anywhere from 5.30am right through to 2am the next day on the pharmacy downstairs, the bank next door and the road out front, with their jack-hammers and angle-grinders and hammers and profuse swearing. I won’t miss the ticking of the pedestrian crossing down the street, which at 1am changes from a quiet background noise to a symphany of violent discord. I won’t miss the blaring honk of the world’s ATM right below us. I won’t miss the drunks wandering from the many pubs at all hours, that one guy who played Evanescence at full ball from his car, all windows down, every day at 5pm regardless of the time of year, as he cruised down the laneway. I won’t miss any of that. But I will miss the grand old apartment, and its views and its sunsets and its pigeons. Plus it was really, really close to the shops.

To celebrate our time in the old place (or something something) we had a few friends over for a game of Munchkin. This is a long and strange game, and looks something like this:

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Yep.

Goodbye, old place! We had so much fun in you! I hope your new owners don’t burn you down like pretty much all the others aside from us did!

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A Stoic Man

I met a strange man in the park today. He looked like this:

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I saw him again a little later in the park, looking like this:

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But perhaps my strangest encounter with this stoic park man was two metres up on a plastic climbing wall, as he stared me down balefully, his eye as bleak as the winter sky over Blaney:

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Gee that was bleak. :\ I feel I need some adventure to cheer me, or at least something bright. How about… a lovely garden?

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Yeah, that’s nice.

I have a theory that what we deem beautiful falls into a few distinct categories. One is a beautiful person, a person in whom we can see potential, whether that be potential for growth or because we wouldn’t mind procreating with that person (so a biological function). The second reason is a place, a home, or a person we find safe and secure. The world is a merciless place; sanctuary is naturally beautiful. The third, and I think this beauty is the one most attributed to a deity, is the beauty of something which can kill you, but isn’t right at this moment. A landscape, a poisonous dart frog, a canyon. We attribute the beauty of these things to a higher power – we want to imbue them with a higher power. But our eye is drawn to them because of the potential for danger they contain. Clouds can be beautiful, but they can warn you of changing winds, they can flood you or freeze you, they can be a warning of an oncoming storm.

But they are beautiful, at least when they’re not trying to kill you.

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All Aboard the Mule Train!

Being the cool and chummy creative designer that I surely am not, today I was asked to join a competition to design the new logo for the university frisbee team, the CSU Falcons.

As a special bonus, I also designed the new shirts. But first, the logo:

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I’ve heard various things about what the falcon is carrying – some suggest a bell, others have said landmine. Although I did originally design it as a frisbee, I am rather fond of the landmine idea. I’m sure if the frisbeeletes were throwing landmines around the field, the game would be much more/ much less in the public eye.

I did seven or so designs for the shirts using the red and white team colours and sticking to a design which “wasn’t too girly” and would also suit the type of shirts the team will be using. This is my favourite:

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The back wouldn’t be grey, but the team already has its specifications for what the layout on the back. Caw caw! Look at that dodo throw those landmines, oh yeah.

Well well. So I thought my heavy designing labour was over for the day. But it was not to be. Later that day I was shockingly reminded that I had been asked to design the logo for Mule Train Industries, front manned by the diabolically enigmatic Mule. I conferred with Mule over what he wanted, and where the logo would go, and came up with this;

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a mule pulling a train carriage. I like this, I really do. Not just the design but the colours, it could be a postcard sold at some train station. Some station serviced by the mule train. Wheeet! The mule in this design is refined from a horse, and the carriage is an actual carriage, although I’ve forgotten the name.

We refined this picture into a banner and square logo. It looks very pro. I’m still just charmed by the colours. Simple minds, eh?

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