Boy, I completely found that embarassing. Golly. Gee whiz. Rootin' tootin' shootin'. That thing I drow on my shirt in the fourth panel was supposed to be a melted happy face, but it looks like a druggie shirt. The third panel looks like an acid trip too. So that incident happened a bit ago, something 'bout half a year or so. This girl is fairly oblivious to reality, though, and hardly noticed I left a message that was, for the majority, a complaint about Hawaii's weather. By the way, my beard is actually more red than my hair, but I can't figure out a good way to color it in Photoshop yet, so it's going to be black for a while.

So Marilyn Manson is making Phantasmagoria: The Visions of Lewis Carroll, which will be about Lewis Carroll(wrote Alice in Wonderland) living in his castle house plagued by visions of a little girl. Or so says imdb. I think it could be good. Depends if Manson has the same talent as a director that Rob Zombie does, who made House of 1,000 Corpses, The Devill's Rejects, and the new Halloween, and those were freakin' GREAT! And the Werewolf Women of the S.S. trailer in Grindhouse! And imdb says that he's gonna remake Conan! That should be grrreat.

I'm reading The House of Leaves, by Mark Danielewski. This book is crazy. Danielewski pretends the book was recently found by someone named Ed, though the book is primarily given notez by someone named Johnny Truant, who found a book by a man named Zampano, who was writing about a(fictitious) film called The Navidson Record, which is about Will Navidson's house that has infinite shifting hallways and doors, that a few people try to explore. So it's Navidson's film about the infinite canvas inside his house, as told by Zampano, as commented on by Zampano and Truant(who comments on Navidson and Zampano), as edited further by Ed. The entire structure, physical layout, of the text is different also. There are columns, or pages empty save for five words, or one, sometimes Truant's footnotes are pages long, or one word, and there are rambles that sound like Truant or Danielewski wrote about whatever was racing through his mind, bashing against the walls of his head.

So I was sitting in a chair that this girl I call Heckathorn always sits in, but then she never showed up. That seemed poignant, so I was thinking of doing a comic about it, but it seems too Kochalka for me. I really like Kochalka's stuff, though, I read through his archives after I heard about his comics.