So when i began this series i spoke as if it would actually be a series, a la star wars or lord of the rings, where
the genius creating the series follows a powerful creative vision of his own magical universe and has an alternate history all worked out and just cranks out episode after episode of material, and i thought that maybe instead of working out an entire alternate history i'd just pretend and make it up on the fly and it's been over eight months and this is installment two, which is fine if you're producing movies or books but not so impressive for 2000 word blog posts, which some people in an advanced stage of masochistic mental affliction do more than once per day! But they don't keep that up for long, and twitter has finally given those poor souls a long deserved release.
So I've given up the series idea, as a beautiful but ultimately impossible vision of the world as it should be, and in any case the whole series thing was my attempt to give some kind of unity and coherence to a blog that really doesn't deserve even the appearance of seriousness. There's just no escaping the fact that this is a silly blog and it has no real purpose except to replicate.
So i intend to cease all operations on this blog, or i should say i intend to stop worrying about why I've already ceased all operations on this blog a long time ago, and leave it as a kind of fossilised remnant of a kind that someday future anthropologists will study and wonder and speculate about like it's a dinosaur bone or the delicate impression of a leaf in an ancient rock. And those future electronic anthropologists may take a bit of this blog and put it in a virtual petri dish and mix it with some html or something vaguely analogous to whatever asinine point or comparison i was trying to make before I kind of lost track of the metaphor because I'm older now.
So check out this old sklog! I have a soft spot for this particular sklog - the picture, that is, not the words, which as usual are crap! But I remember the warm glow I felt while I was drawing this picture because at first I thought the scene, a construction site behind my friend's co-housing condo unit in Boulder, was far too hard to draw, at least for me, but I tried drawing it anyway because I was trapped in the tiny upper loft of the unit for mental health reasons, and then for a little while, about 75% through the actual drawing part, I began to notice that the composition on this picture was not too bad, it actually was beginning to look like a picture or illustration like a real artist might draw, and I felt for a few precious minutes, before I got excited and destroyed it all, that I might actually be on the point of producing professional-standard work. It was a wonderful feeling, the apeothesis, apothesis, apotheosis, that's a tough word to spell, the apotheosis of my life up to that point. Then as I said, I got excited and put the picture down and relished the feeling of professionalism and achievement and financial security and began to wonder where I would buy a nice big house and maybe vacation home and colored pants and a hat and security guards and secret archeological digs that I would finance and then mysteriously order a stop to, and spirit away all the relics and bribe the scientists to keep quiet about and then I'd hide the secret mummy cases in the basement with the skulls that I would finger while I drank scotch in my safari pants, and then I thought maybe that would make an interesting picture (I still do) and then I never finished this picture and used it for a sklog instead, meaning I wrote silly stuff in the unfinished white parts of the sketch to give myself a false sense of completion and went to bed and had nightmares about mummies walking around in the basement drinking my scotch and wearing my safari pants.
