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.

The Legend of the Hernando Toy and Comic Show

 
My strange, Addams-type family - who, much like me, are toy-obsessed nightmare creatures - held their local toy convention, the Hernando Toy and Comic Show, once again this year; complete with food trucks.

Naturally, I shambled my way in bright and early, serving my country as I either guarded the constantly flooding restrooms, babbled with all reaches of Nerdkind, or entertained my little siblings and their gang of miscreants by sneaking through various nearby abandoned buildings. As one does. 

Buildings 1 and 2

The vendors cannibalizing their own kind

I was really surprised just how many people piled into our little con - it was like an army of He-Man collecting ants scurrying singlefile the moment the gates dropped, desperate for those sweet, sweet MOTU. Even before open, the aisles were fairly packed, vendors themselves seemingly pretty interested in what each other had. I won't lie, even I nabbed a couple items before the masses.

Some of the coolest stuff I remember across the con are the absolutely wicked life-size droids displayed by the mystic Star Wars Guys of Lecanto, Jonathan Zelaya's "Grubsport" merchandise (including a sick "Deatharoni" prototype figure), and... Gangrel! I'm not much of an old-school WWE - ahem, F - guy, but I 100% recognized him from my family's toy collection; which totally made him laugh. 

Some more cool and weird stuff I spotted; I really wanted those wicked Rankin-Bass sets, especially the Year Without A Santa Claus pair. So sick. Lots of amazing original customs, books, and art pieces, too. Try to spot the awesome massive Jakks Pacific Godzilla 2014. And, whether you like 'em or not, it's not a convention if there ain't a few Funkos. 

The most special part of the con was an unassuming, empty booth; reserved for the talented artist, and family friend, Chris Schubarth, who very sadly just passed away. I knew Chris indirectly, but it's crazy to think, he's the guy that sold me my super rare KidRobot Gorillaz sets as a teen, among all sorts of fun little odds and ends over the years. Sure, it's all just toys, but he gave me some truly great memories. You'll be missed.

So, where's the winnings? Shocker - it's mostly Godzilla. First thing I snatched up was Bandai Creations' Godzilla 2014, a growingly rare figure who I've been after for a while; fresh in the box, too! You know I jumped all over that. Not sure what happened to the one I bought as a kid... probably eBay. 

Next, I picked up the MMS King Ghidorah 2019, who's one of many MMS figures that have been directly imported for US retailers such as Books A Million, FYE, etc - another one I've really wanted, but was basically holding off on buying until I inevitably ran into him in real life, since it's not uncommon. Finally, I've got an MMS Ghidorah for each Godzilla era. 

Last, and also least, I grabbed the Playmates Shin Godzilla - the actually somewhat good version, too! (atrocious version for comparison) He's a cute little guy, and I quite like his sculpt, janky as it may be, certainly having more personality to it than pretty much any other comparable Shin - even if the overall quality isn't there. What can I say, I like Shinny, and I'm sort of a sucker for Playmates' stuff lately - they did just win the Circana Toy Performance Award for their wildly successful GxK line, so clearly they're doing something right.

... Oh, and I got GTA5 for $5. Neat!

Pretty wicked convention, if I do say so myself - and I do. Word's that there's another round coming up in October. Thanks to anybody who might've shown up, and thanks to all the killer vendors, celebrities, security-types and food truck magicians, too. Shout-out to Donnely's Dockside - and, of course, Darth Vader, Kylo Ren, Obi-Wan and Spider-Man. The OGs.

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'.

Placebo

I wrote a post earlier this year about my fourth of July misadventures, but I accidentally forgot to actually post it anytime close to the holiday. Bit late now - it feels weird proofreading something written in present tense months ago - so here's the cute little banner I put together for the page. I really like it. It's all the cool fireworks I saw that night, bunched together in one image.

I put a lot of work this year - albeit over a super short amount of crunch time - into a little thing that'll see the light of day sooner or later. Probably of my own volition, though for the sake of the post, I'll mention it was an element of else's project. Why the uncertainty? Well, the project more or less stumbled directly into the doo-doo dumpster, after being specifically warned to avoid doo-doo dumpster stumbling. It's hard to find a better descriptor than that. 

I'm glad with what I and my fellow artists accomplished, but despite all this well wishing, we're done with this escapade. We made a whole lot (some of which I've already repurposed), even outside of the piece I'm specifically referencing, and I personally learned a fair bit in the process - for better, or for worse. Not that I'm exactly complaining, because I'll survive, but we didn't even get paid at the end of the day. You hate to step back, watch the dust settle and realize something like that. Unforch, we've all been there.

I don't especially want to get into the specifics, least not until the iron's cooled down, because you never know. No need to jump the gun, purely out of respect. Perhaps they'll bounce back from the self-inflicted backlash, perhaps it was all a bit better off forgotten. Either way, just another little jot in the turmoil that is being an eternally addicted artist. 

A Self Portrait 

I spent about six hours on a Cartoon Mouse Animation tonight. Isn't that sad!

What's compelled me to spew this vile vomit onto the holy scrolls of Wastelnd? Well, I figure it's worth documenting. It's been knocking at my skull, begging to be set out, for months - pretty much since I had the first inclination things were about to go sour. Probably will 'til I feel comfortable sharing the piece with it's audience. Maybe in a billion years, someone will connect two-and-two, make a little insight, and uncover the the terror and turmoil that was 71's early days.

Has anything changed?

Chrome

 

Things have been a bit quiet. With the way things tend to go, lately, a calm, uneventful day is a blessing in and of itself. Gotta keep an eye out for those silver linings. 

My team and I finished an early version of an AR tech project, as well worked with our collaborator to rough up some ideas for new concepts in art, animation and social engagement. I'm particularly proud of my success with the aforementioned AR tech; its something I've never quite tried, but lo and behold, I seem to have struck out on my first attempt. Amen to that.

Its all a bunch of very fun stuff - hard to stay so horribly vague, but, all in due time. Jumping the gun's never turned out well for anybody, besides Neo. 

It's been rainy, and grey; just the way I like it. Makes me feel revitalized, a little less alien. Something about the groggy warmth, the slick, monotone emptiness - you just can't go wrong. Less is more! Pair that with yet another viewing of Who Framed Roger Rabbit, one of my favorite go-to comfort flicks, and you've got one fine sleep schedule killer. 

I love watching the reflections of hazed orange and off-white as the rain trickles through their beams of broken light; the odd ambiance of a streetlamp, or stoplight, a beacon in the quiet murmur. It reminds you you're not alone. A reminder I needed, tonight.

Maybe someday, I'll always be out, among the stars, black, and dreamless water. It's where I feel safe. 

Sometimes, these passing days, weeks - they're sort of comforting. I have a feeling I won't particularly remember them, beyond a lingering mood; tenseness, loneliness. The usual back-order. But, it always leads to rainbows; I look forward to spring, summer, and all those awful, sweaty months of Floridian torture. 

Who am I kidding. Here's to hurricane season. 

Another Late-Nite Ramble

Sometimes, you have to cut away the excess of the world. The fat, the filler; get to the core of it all.

At the very bottom of your being, there's an unspoken contentness. A happiness with all that surrounds you - comfort, really.

Through all the bad experiences one may have, that core will always be there - it may be hard to divide away the growing rust which builds upon it, but it is never overtaken.  It's the spiritual home in yourself; your interests, recurring thoughts, common settings. These things are faceless, and have no connection to the world in which they exist. Nothing can impact them, as they are one with that core.

At the dead of the night, I like to dig up that core and appreciate what it has to share. My own quirks, thoughts, ideas - simply enjoying the world of myself, the only one I'll ever truly know.

Staying in touch with your ethereal 'world' - or, perhaps, your soul altogether - blinds the eyes that sees only the aforementioned grime. You no longer notice the events which take place in this outer 'realm'; your focus is religiously dedicated only to the miniature galaxy in your mind. A galaxy free from the fallacies that make up reality, free of all but what fills your skull - it's probably the closest thing we can get to heaven on our own.

It doesn't matter where you are, who you're with, what you're doing. Your 'world' is always there.

Back on the Images; Gone

Things feel like a ticking timer. A slope on down to the end of the slide; the drop-off.

It's a little sad, honestly. These lessons, which I slowly cope with. As much as I hold them firmly to my heart, I also see their hurt. I see how they can corrode me. And have. Not necessarily for the worse, but certainly in an ... unfamiliar way. It's a cold new galaxy of self discovery.

Letting go of a sickly happiness sitting dead in your face - loyally, comfortably - is a decision I ponder. How common is it, truthfully? Am I an outlier in my disregard for the attainable joys in life? With all good reason to argue otherwise - reason that truthfully outweighs any other emotion - I still feel an ethereal regret. Missing not the growing pains nor the mindless electricity; missing the lights in life. 

Maybe they are due to return upon the change of my life just as dead ahead. Maybe it's all waiting on my own evolution, shedding the now in the face of opportunity. Maybe getting away from the rut of life will provide a new cement of uniquely self fulfilling happiness. 

Bubblegum

Writing for Wastelnd is the most cathartic feeling I've had in years. I think a listening ear is something I've overemphasized - simply melding my moods with vocabulary, rather than any summation of colors, words, lines, songs, or so many examples of what else, feels incredibly natural.

The blog was intended more as an outlet to spurt out less personal ideas, such as rebuttals to arguments I've deconstructed, or my own mini-essays on entertainment topics. A blog that'd mainly serve as a host, which I'd link to necessary audiences.

The artistic journal it has become is really something of a dream come true; I've always wanted a long running history of my thoughts, and, almost to a tee, here it is. It's quiet, it's individual, and it's not something I feel a huge pressure to do. As previously stated, pattering away at the keyboard while I simply pour thoughts along the screen is as soothing as a hot bath. It's rather sobering, as well; I don't think I've left, nor entered the site with a strong emotional fire. Any sparks are doused rather quickly by the foamy bubbles of meandering freedom which such an aimless medium provides.

No real purpose to this ditty of gratitude, but here's to a new favorite hobby keeping me up all through the night. It's the best time of the day.

Februrary 'Foughts

One month of life - that's pretty good, considering this blog itself really came to be without any exact directive. It's really more of a means to putting articles and features out into the world, which would otherwise be lost to the obscurity of forums or comment chains. It's essentially a variety bag of whatever I feel I want to write; in the long-run, hopefully a way to practice this skill to advance to even further heights.

Wastelnd's 'birth' was a result of a very thoughtful, introspective time; my late-December trip to New York, during which I managed to find many personally intriguing thoughts and opinions. Simply for the novelty of it all - whether one must be controversial, or not, to simply release words into the endless ether of the Net has a lonely, yet paradoxically comfortable effect.

Since then, the focus of this blog itself has grown far more in an another direction; reviews, pop culture, the like. Which, of course, I do highly enjoy - however, with each month I hope to set a new goal, whether encouraging, or totally unique. I hope to dig to the root of that inspiration and bring forth more personally, thoughtfully driven posts - hopefully ones with even artistic merit, a pastime of mine coming back into the forefront as I currently scurry away on another digital art creation. As my own self seems to face highly different and impactful events in my everyday life, this unbiased, unabashed outlet grows all the more desirable.

But, let's be totally honest; Come Hell or an empty wallet, I'd ever be able to cast aside my beloved obsession with flicks and toys.

Retro Spirits

I feel so nostalgic for absolutely nothing lately. Not people, not places... moreso things I never had in the first place.

Looking back at images and creations from the 1980's and 90's just brings such a mixed emotion out of me. I never experienced the decades, but I constantly feel so directly related to them. In that sense, I'll never reach a close to my longing for the Pop Cultures and societal normalities of these eras.

I suppose the closest I can reach is delving into these interests retroactively. I'm a huge fan of old characters, particularly those found in advertisements and theme parks... but, knowing that they are now mere memories to those that have endured their love for them makes them a bit sad to enjoy. It's almost akin to reading about the life and times of a long-gone celebrity, or more close to home, relative. You can't help but image how wonderful they must've been, and how greatly you'd have appreciated them, yet there's a deep pit of emptiness in that you'll never prove your belief.

I also simply admire antiquated, yet familiar aesthetics. Outdated webpages, neon cities, bustling homes. Something about them, in my mind, simply cannot exist in my own perceived reality. I reflect it in my tastes and works - for example, Wastelnd's basic, conventionally user-friendly design choices, or my tendency to adorn myself with Mac Tonite or Showbiz Pizza Tee-Shirts - but, again, knowing I simply can't live these names' glory days is so strangely depressing.

Anything from discarded VHS tapes, to long-forgotten albums, to oddball pieces of media, to cheap collectibles, to pandering commercials, to sitcoms, cartoons, stickers, articles... it's practically an addiction. One with no fulfilling payoff.

Yet, in a sense, my personal appreciation of these retro 'spirits' is because of their lack of existence. Their decay, their lessening appeal. It's almost as if I can serve as one of their few life supports.

Maybe they aren't quite passed on, but simply desperate for some love. If that's the best I can do, so be it.

A Warm Welcome

I've considered a blog, or at the very least, a means of simple, direct, yet expressive output for a long time. I often feel a desire to share my interests, my ideas - yet, at the same time, I never feel a special relevance with or without my opinions being held on a marble pedestal.

It's that focus on irrelevance that I think many a modern person experiences; in a world of fame defined by digitally registered numbers, being one of the mere digits is inevitable - and inescapable. Being just one small voice is the nature of the medium, a vast blank slate on which the entire world may paint. And it is as freeing as it is confining.

However, as upsettingly vast the Web can be, it has niches. One small link can reveal an entire ecosystem of people, people eerily similar upon close inspection. Small beings in the form of communities, often with similar links; one thing leads to another. One interest often indirectly correlates to hundreds of others.

And that, in and of itself, can describe what I expect to come of this blog. Not one overarching theme, not one direct mission - instead, a compendium of my indirectly related interests. Death leads to life, which leads to society, which leads to individual people, which leads to interest, which leads to thought - which has far too many facets to list. However, I more or less feel I can shed light on my own versions of these facets through these various writings.

I will openly admit to being a natural child of modern life. I don't find myself to be on a specific mental level above the vast majority of the world, and nor do I wish to achieve that goal; I love the trash of humanity. The effortless, and pandering. The worlds of corporate color that are designed only to rake in countless figures of cash.

Though, to keep this introduction relatively short - I also do find myself capable. I have a deep personal interest in the lighter, mindless side of the world, yet I dive much too far into these areas for my own good. A nearly obsessive drive digs for analysis, and this drive is really quite inescapable. Not as a pestering annoyance - but as a seemingly ingrained reaction.

As sardonic as it naturally comes off, I don't expect a reader base; I don't need my words to be seen as code. As I've lived, I've realized not to expect existence to magnetize itself to my doing - as, after, all, who's to say that 'existence' itself is real? Instead, it is best to grab existence by the throat, and take all that is has.

Er-- that's a little dark. How about, grab existence's hand and playfully jaunt through a springtime park. That's nice.

Originally posted January 1st, 2017