I had a strange weekend.

See, when I was in high school, I didn’t party a lot. I’ve never liked alcohol, and I’ve never done any kind of drugs. The whole scene, where it existed between the mountains and groves of my hometown, was volatile, and just not my kind of fun. Instead, I spent the weekend nights drawing, painting, watching Space Ghost and X-Files and covertly groping my girlfriend on the couch until midnight or so. Given the choice between that, or losing track of my pants in a strange house in the woods, I chose the former.

My friend and I had planned on a dinner for a while over at where she’s staying, so I saved up an appetite. When I arrived, the whole scenario had transformed, and while a hunger headache was slowly starting to throb, I threw myself into whatever was going on.

We were an impromptu party of six or seven people, most of them being around the age of 19 (or, as I immediately felt, about ten years younger than me). Now, when you live in the sticks, there’s a very real stereotype about the aging old creepo guy who spends too much time chilling with drunk high school students. You can kinda pick them out from a mile away, and there are plenty of them. Much to my surprise, and despite many years of being actively antisocial, I kinda fit right into the whole set. I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this fact, or what it says about the demographic that I feel comfortable in, but I had a good night, and that’s what matters. I think.

After two hours of Pictionary, at which my friend and I soundly kicked the asses of our opponents due to some unspoken psychic bond that comes with knowing each other for 20 years, accompanied by the ability to describe esoteric principles with a few lines. There was a third hour of Pictionary that came in after we did a beer run and my lovely friend was chatted up by the lonely liquor store guy, and then later eyed up and down the first of two kids that I ever had a physical altercation with.

(In high school English, Derek grabbed at my Jack Skellington watch and snapped off the head. As he was something of a bully who had tormented me for many of my quieter years, I snapped and grabbed his throat, throwing him up against the cabinets until the teacher convinced me to let go and stop choking him. Because I was a quiet, excellent student, there were no repercussions at all. We later shook hands in gym class on our own volition, having earned the tenuous respect of each other.)

We moved into the basement as the evening went on, and listened to Dethklok and Tom Waits until the batteries on my iPod faded out. A section of the floor may or may not have been spattered with blood, and the only illumination came from strings of tiny Christmas lights lining the ceiling. A rickety pool table held a game of pool, and then the parts of a ping pong table for beer pong, and then a game of Kings – which seems solely designed to make the mundane task of getting drunk slightly more interesting, but only ended up causing people to become contentious. There was a strange fascination with the fact that I don’t drink or smoke, and wasn’t a complete tool.

Once two beer bottles were hurled at the cinderblock walls, I went home. Not after helping to pick up the finer bits of green glass so that no one would injure themselves. Because I can’t help myself.


I’m having a hard time picking bits of motivation out of the quiet flood around me. This would be okay if I felt like it was okay to do nothing, but me and being idle are two things which will never be comfortable with one another. Things I want to do :

- Coptopus Issue #2
- A Tarot deck
- A full run of Devilboxes
- Plot out some of the lamp / box designs I’ve been playing with
- A Batman-related painting for a friend
- A new toy for my little solo show at the Library
- ConceptArt.org’s Daily Sketch Group
- eBay’s ACEO Group weekly challenge
- Some more sketches of library patrons

These things will happen. I was hit by this massive, overwhelming sledgehammer of fatigue today at work and had a very hard time staying conscious. It was like last year’s mono was fast upon me, but I think that it might have to do with the fact that I ate a large sandwich before this event. Can digestion really bring on such an overwhelming feeling of fatigue and dizziness? This is something to research.

Perhaps I’m being mentally held up by a set of potential plans for Thursday that I’ve been trying to hash out since this weekend. I’m not getting much help, and I’m always very hesitant to start up a new project if it has the potential to get interrupted. I’m not good at waiting for people to come through.

For now, I sleep. Tomorrow, I can focus.