We Knew About Rancho Unicorno

Cookin' up some shrimp and scallops, and catching up on the new King of the Hill reboot, which just dropped a few hours ago; right now, I'm watching the original series finale (which I found a little... pedestrian?), and next on the queue will be the grand return. KotH's always been one of my on again, off again comfort series, and I'm pretty excited by the idea of Hank and the boys against the horrible hell-vortex known as our modern times. 

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Meanwhile, in the wild, wild world of MIDLIFE... 

I'm still working on various pick-ups for the Lost / Neon Pools scenes; hoping to finish a mostly complete 2.0 of the sequences sooner than later, especially seeing as I might be moving yet again in the coming months. Would be nice to crank out another full WIP workprint, especially for safety's sake. Anyhow, tonight I'm picking away at a small animation of Vienna awkwardly haunting the halls of the Interment Facility after accidentally crushing an adowable widdle aborted fetus... as these things go.

I think it's fun how ridiculously different Venner looks from shot to shot across these sequences, as it's development has, so far, spanned almost that of the entire film - unlike most other scenes, it's earliest "finished" cut was a rush job, simply so as to finish something - so, thankfully, I don't think I'll feel quite so shilly-shally about the scenes which succeeded it. Either way, it's a very important section of the picture, so I've felt it beneficial to come back time, and time again, to tweak, polish, and punch-up. I'm carving what was a sort of slow, meandering psychedelic dirge into something that, while still surreal, is significantly less conceptual, and more illustrated. Sometimes, literally.

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Well, I got through the first two new episodes of KotH - felt like a totally natural return to the same ol' Arlen, with an appropriate level of "relevant" references, and a slightly more overt cynical edge that I really enjoy. Funny as hell seeing Old Lady Peggy swear, get drunk, and confusedly throw around new-age political stuff, while still being the self-confident, blindly arrogant Peggy we loved. Same for everybody in the cast - I especially related to adult Bobby. Pretty funny how his buddy Joseph has stayed almost exactly the same, probably the least reimagined of the crew - that itself is a very clever character commentary, when you think about it. Really amazing reboot, feels perfectly in-line with the classic show, while still pretty immediately "new" in a way that's distinct, but doesn't clash with the original's vibe. 

If only Futurama could've gotten a reboot this slick. Comparing the two, it just instantly speaks for itself - one is treading the same old shyt, uninspired, and meandering in it's depressing inability to barely touch what once was; while the other really justifies it's own existence almost before clicking play. Let's not even mention the Gorillaz reboot. Or the Ren and Stimpy reboot. Or the Aqua Teen reboot. So on...

Definitely excited to see more, I've capped myself off at two so as to save some for later. I think my favorite bit thus far was definitely fat, disgusting bearded Bill - I wish they kept him that way! He was majestic!

Digital Bleeps

Been a slow season; drawing, working. Existing. Lately I've been working on a couple large, but small scenes for the MidLife: Fate project with lots of background zombie extras - always a fun creative challenge, especially when working within specific poses, or environments. When the zombies aren't one-off sporadic designs, they're weirdo references- you'll notice lots of sneaky little cameos in the WIP shot pictured to the left; JTHM, HatBox Ghost, the Queen of England... so on.

I've been going back to various earlier segments, sprucing things up, and sort of tieing things together - particularly sections a bit too meandering in their beta state; though, I try not to get too Richard Williamsy about it, endless perfectionism and whatever. It's all meant to look a bit jank, style-wise, so that's something I gotta hold on to - as tempting as it is to mull over every microscopic detail. Still, fun to chip away, expanding concepts and making things as narsty as possible.

It's especially hard not to go too hard with the animations themselves - an ongoing goal of mine is to do things a bit more limited, retro, maybe even Anime style, rather than the increasingly intricate stuff I've been experimenting with - awesome as it looks. Gotta find ways to cut back, without sacrificing my own interest. 

Well, what's on the tube, Smogmonster? ALF. Duh. But beyond that, I've been repeatedly passing out to Matt McMuscles' Wha Happun; a cool YouTube series covering the hellish development of games, movies, and... yeah, that's mostly it. Really zen, love the guy's way of speaking, and snappy research. Plus, he's a buff skeleton. What's not to love.

I've also been binging SpongeBob non-stop; people say there's some point in the series where things significantly fall off, but I dunno, it's all cozy fun. The first few seasons are stone-cold classics, sure, but I've yet to find any particular stretch of "ass content". Forgettable, maybe, but not nearly as abhorrent as Cartoon Tubers lead you to believe. Eugh. Odd Bunch. Just a comforting show, I like the goofball positivity. 

Speaking of which, my depression's been fading. I'm even considering dropping Zoloft; something I wouldn't have at all considered as recently as a year ago, but these days, I find my more manic anxiety has sloped away to... meh? Nothing? They say a guy's brain finishes maturing around 25, and yeah, I definitely feel it. Maybe it's one of those self fulfilling things. Either way, a storm has passed - a lot of things I feel spurred my mental issues as a younger 20-something have now long, long passed, and I don't find myself getting quite as Squidwardly quite as often. Wack. Here's hoping that all goes smooooovely. 

Hopefully I'll have more time to pick away at my Movie Monster Series reviews soon; I definitely wanna look at the Cybot Godzilla, one of my favorites as of late. Still, the 30 reviews I've cranked out thus far ain't bad. Here's to then, whenever then comes.

First Felt

It's been a while since I used this as a real, personal blog, yeah?

I use to vent, and ramble pretty often on this site, airing out my anxieties to noone in particular. High School drama, anxiety issues, life. It's therapy, like journaling. Just cooler. A lot of those posts are either deleted, or too drowned in depressive hysteria to make much sense, but hey - still makes me feel better to vomit up these odd, useless emotional diatribes.

storyboard art

rough ideas 

Needless to say, I'm in a rut. It's interesting to me that whole I'm going through such a difficult time, I'm also simultaneously working on a particularly dark scene for my MidLife: Fate project, where the recurring rat-demon character Skr'd is suddenly killed by an ominous, piggish shadow. 

I've actually felt quite a bit of artistic venting throughout the scene; the forgotten Egyptian diety Skr'd raging and complaining about his lot in the afterlife, all too eager to fly off the rails with the slightest nudge. Lotta angst, lotta mania, lotta issues beneath the hood - reminds me of me. Maybe we're seeing some kind of... rat-based ego-death. Hmm.

The scene's going great - MidLife is definitely one of those things that keeps me going, and grounded. Not to mention, happy. Over an hour of footage complete! Killer. The scene, which is an unnerving blend of storyboard footage and proper animation, will use a unique version of a song I released all the way back in 2019, Houses On The Land, a psychedelic dubby nightmare based around a loop from The Orb's Plum Island. It's real creepy, having always been one of my own narcissistic favorites, and I'm so excited to see it all come together. 

I'm desperately hoping a few opportunities I have bookmarked will work out, and fast; keepin' it vague, but man, it could really save the day. I'm a religious guy, in my own funky way, and believe me, I'm praying like a... machine... that prays... a lot. For real!

The important thing in times like these is to cling to your own humanity. I've gotten very, very used to being isolated, and have been made to feel useless for a very long time - but there are people out there who, by some stroke of luck, care about me, and maybe even love me. If you're anything like me, the negativity drilled into your brain - be it caused by thoughts, people, whatever it may be - will try to convince you you're nothing forever. Its naturally hard for people to "change", and depression doesn't necessarily leave, even in the best of times. But if somewhere out there, somebody wants to be by your side, and lift you up; embrace that. Don't be afraid of it. You might not even realize you are. 

I've had a recurring dream lately. A half-abandoned, parallel dimension version of my apartment; one section totally normal, cluttered in Godzilla figures, blankets and junk food, as usual, but the rest completely empty and unused - as if I'd never noticed it there. Random, labyrinthine halls filled with softy lit bedrooms and untouched kitsh decor; odd, damaged interiors, forgotten drawers full of someone else's clothing; sometimes even glimpses into the always orange-on-purple sunset sky, peering through destroyed ceilings and thin white curtains. When I'm not showering in a newly discovered bath, or resting in some odd, often totally disheveled bit of bedding, I'm often frightened by intruders eerily leering in, watching. It's usually family. 

Take that as you will; I think I see a few meanings in there. Maybe there's a section of my life I've unknowingly ignored thats begging for engagement. I've always wondered if the weird, mirror planets we visit in dreams are, maybe, a world of their own - the ones we revisit, and really understand. I guess we'll all see, someday. Till then, goodnight, Wastelnd. Keep on truckin'.

The Idalia Chronicles - Captain Gonzo's Furball

It's 6:43 AM; another night at the ole Motel 6, and it's storming hard. Gusting 20 mile per hour winds, apparently a "category four" - not that I, y'know, have any idea what that means. I've lived, or, more accurately, slept, through plenty of Hurricanes in my Interment here in the sunny Purgatory of Florida; but I must admit, it's different when you're holed up on floor two of a ghetto joint built in the tourist boom of the '60s. This ain't no Hilton. The scenic palm tree towering across the way is looking scarier than usual, wobbling like a limp wiener gone skydiving. Ah, well - least I got Cartoon Network and the magic of social media to distract me. I don't get scared often, but the automated robotic storm alerts that keep incessantly cutting through my beloved cartoons shakes me to the core just about every time. I think its some oddly specific, but potent trauma from being woken up in the middle of the night by that terrible muffled alarm tone as a child. Even bank phone calls or text-to-speech tools give me the jitters. Is there a word for the abnormal fear of lo-fi mechanical voices? 

How about... Robophobe. Sure. 

So far tonight, I've called friends, drawn, and sat by the shower listening to one YouTube documentary or another. Mostly Red Cow Arcade and Joon the King. I may have a strange aversion to monotonous, disembodied, automated messages, but I really enjoy the brown noise of long-form video essays. The difference? That's for you to decide. 

Just like writing, something about hotels really revitalizes my soul - I'd stay here all the time if it were financially realistic. I guess that goes to show the state of things. Hell, even at home I tend to leave on a ten-hour loop of that lovely motel AC rumble. Then again, I'm not sure how I'd feel getting robbed on the daily - can't underestimate the trash ways of southern folk. Myself included. I am a cook, after all. 

MidLife's going well, if not a little slower than I'd prefer. I just started working with a new voice actor who seems great so far, and I've been doodling loads of zombie extras and funky advertisements to decorate the dingy world of death. Music wise, I've been pretty narrowly focused on a track called "Isotope Sister", a sort of reversed song-within-a-song reggae experiment that I hope opens some minds to the insanity that is sound. Not every track is a unique musical idea, statement or effort, but I hope most have a standout gimmick of sorts that lets listeners introspect on perception. That's where my head's at. 

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Ah, well... three days later, the storm's dead and gone. Just like my grandson. It's a warm, sickly summer night, I gotta get up early, and I'm wasting time on my nightmare blog... this is the life.

The Ian Chronicles - A Gigantic Waste of Time

My Hurricane Protection Totem

Feels a little weird writing this cuz I knew an Ian. Blech.

Anywho! It's struck again - the return of the monster - everyone's favorite yearly crock - hurricane season! Yes, Ian's been looming past the sunny coasts of hellish Florida for the past few days now, and apparently it's finally made some pretty serious contact. Not that I'd know! Since, as usual, it looks like a normal day in Chicago around me. Nothing special; in fact, I'd go as far as to say it literally does not matter. But, safety first, I get it. Where it's bad, it's bad. I think.

Irma is the only recent hurricane I can remember legitimately impacting people around here; though even then, we just lost power for a few days. Good excuse to take a vacation, really - we headed up to a nice local lodge just out of town and made lemons into lemonade, Hilton style. Or some shit. It's a "boy who cried wolf" situation - the more they hype up these calm, serene thunderstorms, the less myself and others bother to care. It's even worse when you go online and see people from outside the state panicking, wishing us well, drafting our obituaries. C'mon, now.

Hurricanes can be dangerous, but y'know, so can Elephants. And I don't see us getting any compassion when the circus rolls into town.

Double standards.

Tell you the truth, the only reason I comment on all of this - besides consistency - is because I wish it'd just rain already. Like any degenerate, I love the muffled patter of a long, dreary day; its peaceful, really puts your soul in a better place. Makes your brain feel like Crumb by Locket. Lo and behold, a literal rain storm is tearing our beloved land apart, and there's not a fucking shredling of liquid dripping from Zeus' mighty cloud dong. Sad!

Oh, well. So far the only excitement has been the power going out, and my job shutting up. As such, plenty of time for my other, horribler, self-inflicted job; MidLife! Oh, how I love my little ghetto nightmare filmy.

Espencer Kennaeth Hasperian, the Sixty-Ninth

Not to mention, plenty of time for toy reviewing... man, can't believe I just said that. Gross! I have to thank Michael Crawford (not that one) A.K.A. Captain Toy for that little obsession of mine; my whole family's one big compulsive collector, so reading and learning about all sorts of lines like Palisades' Fairly Odd Parents, Playmates' World of Springfield, or any old Sideshow doll was super exciting as a kid. Still is, too! What can I say, it's a hobby.

I always thought it was cool he somehow got his hands on the mystic life-size Mike and Sulley promotional statues; I saw those things all the time at the local McDonald's in South Lyon, Michigan, super nostalgic to me. Gotta wonder where the rest of 'em wound up...

We've been closed for the storm

...Well, coming back to the ol' keyboard a day or two later - just smoked two spliffs, I forgot - the storm effectively came and went. Made for a nice little extended weekend, and the weather's just primo. I can finally breathe for the first time in weeks without breathing in a liquid gallon of humidity.

Now to prepare-panic for next week's apocalyptic doomsday event. I'll bring the sandbags.

White Noise, Drifting

Vienna and Dev sketch,
"Cry, Cry 11"

I'm getting better at sleep.

Some nights, it just creeps up on you; but tonight, it's warm, and inviting. How strange.

Maybe it helps I've temporarily embraced a more nocturnal lifestyle; thankfully adaptive to work, and allowing for lots of introspection and mindfulness. Not to mention, a touch-base with religion. I'm glad to have this time to myself. 

Gotta work on the whole "being productive" part, though. There's a few tasks on my list - but I'd rather lay in bed. I deserve it - today was taxing, physically; though pretty calm otherwise. Good balance.

So, what does the future hold? None of my concern. We'll get there when we get there; water under the bridge. Until then, I've got other things to worry about.

I ought to sleep... Randy Savage needs cuddles. 

The Corona Chronicles - Well

I seem to have missed a year... or so. My bad.

So, what all's happened in the wild and often-later-deleted life of the Wastelnd's finest trashman? 

Well... I've moved, I've panicked, I've ghosted, I've stood, I've smiled, I've loved, and I've unfortunately done just about everything one might expect to have happened during a long period of unexplained absence. That's right down to getting my first tattoo - what can I say! I've grown attached to the lovely little numbers of seven and one; coincidentally, also the name of my start-up production company. What are the odds?

But, enough about that; there's a very good reason these events have gone unmentioned, and it's simply because I didn't feel much of it was worth dwelling on - let alone archiving and displaying along my dusty, toy review laden little corner of the internet. That's the past, this is now... though, the difference is a bit debatable, as the years continue to more or less bleed into one another.

As such, the virus continues on...  

Speaking of which, that's another accomplishment crossed off my "dissappearance duties" list; I caught a terrifying disease! That's right; I'm a warrior, baby. I took the punches, I took the two weeks off, and I came back standing. Complete with multiple hours of Marvel and Hammer binge-watching. For what it's worth, there wasn't much in terms of discomfort; it was basically an exaggerated cold, with lots of pressure and discomfort in my chest and legs. Hate to say it, but I've had worse. 

In brighter news, though, my friends and I have begun work on some very exciting animation and illustration projects; not the least of which includes my pilot, which has evolved and morphed into a pulsating wildebeest the likes of which you've probably seen before. Long story short, I've decided to dip into the neon pools of experimental filmmaking; finally putting those few college years to use as I translate the completed pilot script into something a bit more cerebral. I've included a teaser trailer below... 

In day-to-day life, between animation tests and concept sketches, I've been making many small, but important changes. I've cut back on smoking, which is quickly improving my mental health. I've also decided to focus more on self-confidence, holding my ground and valuing my own importance. Wild, huh? I've learned to put myself first, without putting others second; though, as it goes, I've also had to unfortunately trash all sorts of "friends". But, what can ya do. I see it as nothing but a positive, if not a bit emotionally troubling. In the blessed and paraphrased words of DOOM, I'm very choosey on what I choose to let crew see.

In relation to that, I've taken the initiative to find (yet another) brand-new job. How exciting! But, here's the catch; thanks to the virus, gigs are finally being forced to pay a respectable wage! That's how things go, don't they? One way or another, things come around. Whether you notice it or not, all paths have a destination. Or, something like that. 

The remains of yet another K-Mart

Look at me, back to writing my sweet little endings. Goodnight. 

Primary Ocean

Things have been going well; visiting family, going to work, and - as always - chipping away at the sculpt of MidLife.

The pilot script is reaching it's climax - a section I've been itching to write for months, and finally have the thrill of putting down on paper. Before long, writing will totally wrap up, allowing me time to sketch out some concept art, finish the website, whip together "episode zero", and more. I'm very excited.

A Workspace of Chaos

A variety of Chistmas decor

I've been checking in on Macy's the past few days; sales are still going strong, though, just as last time, there's really nothing worth buying when their original prices were neigh insane. However, with so many fixtures available, there are some neat finds to be had - I bought a couple plastic signholders and mannequin limbs, perfect for future artistic endeavors.

I spotted a pretty neat piece of Macy's history hiding among the defunct furniture; a Christmas-themed mailbox, perfect for letters straight to Santa. It's sad seeing such a whimsical icon crammed behind caution tape, surely to be scrapped, stored, or simply shipped off to some company warehouse. If I weren't moving so soon, you bet I'd have made it mine.

Behind it was also a sort of countdown-to-Christmas clock, bearing the classic R.H. Macy & Co. label.

Santa himself

One of my favorite things about the location are the retro plastic palm trees serving as support pillars all around the store, which can be seen in my previous Macy's post; along with the baby-blue sky mural painted along it's ceilings. Beautifully outdated.

Outside it's mall entrance, a pair of similar palms hoist the store's sign - a very striking, creative display you'd likely never see in the dreadfully modern malls of now. I wonder what'll happen to the signage - if anything, at all.



With Sears gone, Macy's on the way out, and more than half it's stores serving as vacant storage space, Indian River Mall may not be around for long - I theorize, sooner than later, I might just see it pop up on BrightSunFilms' Abandoned series or as the backdrop to some glittery Vaporwave mix. Maybe I ought to beat the crowd.

I've been recently diving into the music of Japanese rock band Honeydip with their album Groovy Indian Summer, a pop-meets-shoegaze jam full of sunny melodies and rollicking guitar chords. My favorite is the unusually titled Suicidal Summer Rider - an exhilarating little tune sure to make you yearn for groggy sunsets and shiny days. Not me, though. I always have that.

I've also been listening to Lemongrass' Maison A La Mer, Versus' live performance of Moon Palace, The Residents' Kaw-Liga, Rocket Juice and The Moon's Follow Fashion, The Unfadable, and There, The Pixies' Ana, and Mac Demarco's My Kind of Woman. Gorillaz' album Demon Days has recently become my go-to beach soundtrack; unusual, I know, but something about it's dark, groovy atmosphere really matches the serene winds and skies of a grey midday coast.

I spotted a neat washed-up number of some kind beside the water a few days ago, covered in barnacles and visible wear; can't help but wonder if it washed up from some forgotten shipwreck out at sea, perhaps too old for any local to clearly recall. More likely, though, it simply fell off some random cargo freighter - but, either way, an interesting sight.

Tall Crash

Did a bit of exploring today around the outside of my local mall. Though I initially headed there to collect B-roll footage for a film project I've just begun, I soon began noticing some interesting sights I hadn't before - and, as an urbex lover, I couldn't resist taking in the haunting scenery.

I've been to various abandoned places over the years; from the dilapidated remains of a closed Circuit City, to the forest-hidden paths of the long forgotten Prehistoric Forest theme park, to a gigantic headless dinosaur sculpture hidden along a deep Florida road. No matter the banality of the site, abandonment is something I will always find fascinating.

I first came across the closed interior of some sort of typical sports bar, clearly visible through the windows lining it's outside deck. I'd liked to have gotten closer and taken more detailed photos, but the area was still pretty lively at that time of night - I'm not exactly one to test my limits in these sorts of situations.

It's always interesting to see a once lively spot such as this in such a strikingly quiet state - it's lights shining brightly on an empty dining room. Perhaps I will take further photos on a future endeavor.

I then passed by the colossal remains of a Sears superstore; one I'd been in various times in the past, in fact. This certainly wasn't the first time I'd inspected it's abandoned state - nor was it the first ex-Sears I'd appreciated - though it was the first time I'd allowed myself to really analyze and admire the area. I couldn't help but revel in the odd beauty of the store's wholly unused shipping station; a large gap in it's roofing reminding me of a soothing skylight, the cloudy murk above accentuating the bleak scene below.

An enticing half-open door called for me from the nearby wall, though, as said before, I decided not to take any risks at such a heavily populated hour. My curiosity is killing me.

A large portion of the building's side sat bathed in darkness, little but a large sign and a wall-off door resting amongst the shadows. It can be seen in this post's banner, in all it's ambiguous allure.

On the opposite side of the building, a handful of outdoor lights remained on - one of which was flickering sporadically, echoing the lamest of horror pictures. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit unsettled by it's presence; I suppose that goes to show my wavering adventurous spirit.

Nearby, I found the shattered remains of a plaque that once displayed the store's founding date - clearly torn from the wall in the least professional manner possible. Though I'd like to imagine an owner or manager may have taken it, chances are another urban explorer got their hands on the neat little item - admittedly, if I had seen it resting anywhere nearby, I'd have certainly added it to my odd collection of forgotten telephones, signs and paraphernalia.

Much more interesting, however, was the quiet and shadowy home of Sears' Auto Center; placed among the brush across the road. With oceanic winds gusting by and an odd chill in the air, I couldn't help but find myself a bit spooked - all the better, in urbex. Much like it's larger brother, a single light flickered on and off along it's front garage; a bright red 'exit' sign visible through it's dim, soot-tinted windows, floating lonesomely in the inky black.

I didn't stick around for long, as not much of interest was really able to be seen through said obscured windows; however, should I make my way there again during the day, I suppose some light may shine through and allow me a better look at what is hidden within.

It's a shame malls have become a breeding ground for the culturally forgotten; though, as has always been, time must keep marching on. Besides - without respecting and learning from the losses of our past, how can we truly appreciate what is offered in our present?

Sears was always too pricey anyways.

WasteLnd's Counterattack

It has officially been one year since the first post to Wastelnd.

Jeez, it's been a year?!

I still remember the night before I finally sat down and set up this website; sitting in a dark hotel room, watching the ball drop in complete and utter silence - the only light coming from that dingy, round-screened plastic box. That, and my phone - on which I was entering random web URLs, hoping to find a long forgotten, eerie relic of the Web's past. It would be the perfect kind of thing to communicate as an article, I thought. The perfect concept - a website meant to be forgotten.

Thus came the final concept for Wastelnd - initially called "The_Landfill". To create a place that's my own, to create a place that feels forgotten, and to infuse a sense of early-2000s nostalgia into the simplistic presentation of it all. 61 individual posts later, I feel I've very much succeeded with this endeavor.

The last song I heard in 2017 was Mac Demarco's dusty love croon "My Kind of Woman" - with only one headphone in, thus only relaying the layer of music most primarily featuring a decrepit keyboard. A melancholy, yet hopeful note to end on, as I fell into the hands of sleep.

My 2018 resolution is to meet more people, work on my impression to others, become more strong as an individually functioning person, focus more on writing, and kick ass every day. Well, maybe not every day... but, still, a solid nine out of ten. I also plan to continue work on the MidLife project, redirecting my attention from the art side to the meat of the production - the story. 2017 produced 60 unique MidLife pictures, not counting oodles of incidental artworks, sketches, vectors, and more. Come 2019, I imagine the same scale of success can be compared to the sheer amount of literary creations completed.

2017 was a year of introspection, right to the very end. A year with endless self-development, through experiences, lessons, and thoughts. Good, and bad. Where I am now, it's hard to say; yet, as the dust settles, I see a brighter future in this upcoming year. A future unlike anything I've experienced before, and perhaps, all I've wanted. Here's to another amazing year.