Abject failure and you... plus, a town comes alive!

First sketches of the town with no name! [Re: Calamity Cash and the Town with No Name.] Link is here: http://justincornell.blogspot.com/2008/10/beginnings-of-no-name-town.html.

Justin has been putting all of his work on the comic over on his blog. I'll be getting a permanent link up soon, when I figure out how. Likely, when I start giving out this link, someone will tell me how. Up today is the Red Jet Diner, the Garage, the Gas Station... a post office that Justin put in to deal with a problem with my lazy scripting. The stuff he's doing is really good, and he's generally so into work that he'll have an existential crisis to go along with all the pretty pictures.

Well, not every time.

It's heartening. He's very aware of himself, and his work, and the space he inhabits. Sam was the same. I think it might be the sign of a real artist, that ability to be working, and just stop, whether finished or not, and hold the project back, and say "Hm." It reminds me of this part in Chasing Amy, when Banky says to Holden over the desk "That's the best street light you've ever drawn." Course, scene is actually about something else, which has nothing to do with this conversation, but still.

I guess I'm not making much sense. From this perspective though, it feels clear.

How I remember Sam best, actually. Sitting on the bed in that blue sweater, laptop to one side, great big drawing board laying cockeyed in her lap. Diligent, and aware, and interested. Could watch her for hours like that, though she wouldn't often let me. Sometimes would pretend to read, or play video games. Just so I could.

Guess I'm thinking about her because of old Venture Bros. that's been on. Hard to untangle people from things. Least I think so.

Can't pass Justin's work off for my own. Did nothing of note today. Wealth of time, and I waste it.

Thought mostly on what was next. Occurs to me these days something will have to happen soon. Will continue to wait and see if freelance gig comes through in December, try and use excess time to work on my own creative projects, but then what?

So much failure. Some preemptive. Gurus would shit. Looked into grad school months ago -- few problems arise. Didn't plan. Always a big one. So, no grades, no promise of letters of recommendation, no mentors telling me what my next move should be. Money, also a problem, but a small one. Other things as well. The GRE. Also small... but for literature, film, writings... would need a published scholarly work. Wouldn't know where to begin, and even then, honestly don't think I'm that good yet. May never be. Important to know your limitations... and there seem to be so few means at my disposal.

Shame. Thinking about Anna. A doctor one day. And Thompson. "Doctor of Journalism." Gads, man, and Jesus-God! Hah. Tease myself at the thought of that. Title would be nice. Would take just figuring out how to get smarter without school.

Been hard to read feeling like this.

Heater keeps kicking on, then off. Winter here. Year ago, in my head, singing "Waiting for October." Not happily, but expectantly. Hard to explain. One person will understand. Maybe.

What else? All this talk about the future. Keep thinking about the Muppets. Grew up with them. Commercials with Jim Henson stock footage, and if there's a documentary or a retrospective on him, or Sesame Street, or anything like, I stumble on it. Kismet [Kermit?]... laugh at me for being superstitious. Again, wouldn't even know how to begin chasing something like that. Maybe I should? If that plagiarist douche bag from Bennington could...

Frustrated. Think about the world, what people are doing, Jim Bentley and Genevieve Belleveau are going out to art talks, learning about off-shoots of postmodernism that have a shorter life than some insects, sipping wine, and laughing with friends, never taking black topcoats and scarves off. Jealous. Somewhere, people, people like me, better maybe, are talking about the universe and making out to Death Cab for Cutie, while others are seeing plays, or dancing on top of exclusive buildings on the exclusive New York skyline. Some are working in vintage clothes stores, and some are working in bars, and some are getting coffee for people I'd likely melt upon meeting.

I could blame my situation. Where I live. Not finding work. Sad. But would things be different if I were in some city alone, with all the opportunities I never get passing right by me? Do I want what I want? Or would I even be able to find it, without some friend or some girl to drag me to it? I don't know.

Think I'll write that mission statement soon. In my head, the words are almost right.

People are asking about the blog. Ally, then Justin, same day. Might unveil soon. Do sort of like it like this, though. Decisions, decisions. More worried people will feel I'm hiding something. Not here.

Should sleep. If you're wondering why I didn't mention debates, it's because they don't matter...

Shalom.