two comic strips

Loose Parts is a recent discovery, and it comes close to having the Far Side Nature, certainly more than any other "wacky one-panel" cartoon.  The artwork doesn't have that idiosyncratic nature, but it's not bad.  And i've liked Ballard Street since i first saw it, and i'm amazed at how it's kept up its almost impossible blend of the crazed within a staid suburban milieu.

Lastly, instead of chasing around various comic strip feeds on LJ, which might end up getting canceled anyway, set up an account at ComicAlert, then syndicate it on LJ (and if you have a free account and can't syndicate feeds, ping me and i'll set it up for you).

two comic strips

Loose Parts is a recent discovery, and it comes close to having the Far Side Nature, certainly more than any other "wacky one-panel" cartoon.  The artwork doesn't have that idiosyncratic nature, but it's not bad.  And i've liked Ballard Street since i first saw it, and i'm amazed at how it's kept up its almost impossible blend of the crazed within a staid suburban milieu.

Lastly, instead of chasing around various comic strip feeds on LJ, which might end up getting canceled anyway, set up an account at ComicAlert, then syndicate it on LJ (and if you have a free account and can't syndicate feeds, ping me and i'll set it up for you).

this is my beautiful house

And this is my beautiful wife.

this is my beautiful house

And this is my beautiful wife.

gentlemen, synchronize swatches

So when are we going to get "Parker Lewis Can't Lose" on DVD?

gentlemen, synchronize swatches

So when are we going to get "Parker Lewis Can't Lose" on DVD?

attention ikkyu2

Aja Vu, a Steely Dan tribute band.  The vocalist/percussionist is the girlfriend of one of my stepson's best friends.

attention ikkyu2

Aja Vu, a Steely Dan tribute band.  The vocalist/percussionist is the girlfriend of one of my stepson's best friends.

e&tg 25

(palecur made some comments on this part that made me realize that i'd just hurried through it.  I've been trying to rewrite it since and it's been slow-going.  I am not happy with this; i've done as little editing as i can allow myself.  Do your worst.)

Kohasadi and i headed to the flophouse where i slept while i wasn't out of town working.  The neighborhood where it existed wasn't exactly a slum, but it was far from a desirable location; all around were shabby buildings with small rooms that were mostly inhabited by laborers and their families.  When we reached my building, i left Kohasadi out in the street and i went in to collect my stuff.

I'd paid my rent up front before i'd left, so that was one fewer thing to worry about.  I walked past the busy common room, climbed four flights of stairs, and unlocked my door.

My room was very small, but at least it had a window, even though all i could see was the opposite tenement house and the drab street below.  I threw off my backpack and emptied it of the remnants of my adventure: a half-empty flask of oil, a rotting torch, a crumbling whetstone, detritus that had once been road rations.  I opened the bolted-down chest by the wall and pulled out a pair of brown canvas pants and a dark red linen shirt.  I carried them downstairs to the wash room (which was mercifully devoid of any neighbor), where i took off my armor and cleaned it with a bucket of water and a stiff brush.  Then i removed my clothes, considered washing them and quickly decided instead to throw them into the dirty towel bin.  I jumped into the bathing pool and scrubbed myself with a sponge, feeling better with every stroke.  I dried myself with one of the dragon tongues that passed for towels in our building, dressed myself and returned to my room.

I took the last pair of my thick cotton socks (a luxury, but a welcome comfort that was well worth the expense) from the chest, pulled them on my feet and put on my boots.  I piled the hard leather plates into the bottom of my backpack, placed the rest of my clothes on top of them, then collected my few prized possessions from the lonely shelf on the wall next to the door: a fringed necklace (a gift from an old lover, although i suppose she wasn't old for an elf), a carved ebony mask from my homeland (or so i was sworn by the salesman from whom i'd purchased it — someday, i'd have to make the trip and find out the truth), and my first axe (more like a hatchet, a cheap piece of shit that nonetheless struck true enough often enough).  I strapped my battle axe to its usual home on the side of my pack and put my backpack on.  I walked over to the foot of the not-quite-long-enough-for-me bed, picked up my didjeridoo, and walked out.

I stopped by the landlord's office and found him hunched over a table, poring over a ledger.  I cleared my throat.  "Hey, Kashri."

He looked up and pushed his stringy blond hair out of his face.  "Hnh.  What."

"I'm moving out.  Here's the key."  I gave him my key.  "Thanks for the room.  Be well."

He jerked his head at me.  "Hnh."  He returned to his ledger.  I left.

e&tg 25

(palecur made some comments on this part that made me realize that i'd just hurried through it.  I've been trying to rewrite it since and it's been slow-going.  I am not happy with this; i've done as little editing as i can allow myself.  Do your worst.)

Kohasadi and i headed to the flophouse where i slept while i wasn't out of town working.  The neighborhood where it existed wasn't exactly a slum, but it was far from a desirable location; all around were shabby buildings with small rooms that were mostly inhabited by laborers and their families.  When we reached my building, i left Kohasadi out in the street and i went in to collect my stuff.

I'd paid my rent up front before i'd left, so that was one fewer thing to worry about.  I walked past the busy common room, climbed four flights of stairs, and unlocked my door.

My room was very small, but at least it had a window, even though all i could see was the opposite tenement house and the drab street below.  I threw off my backpack and emptied it of the remnants of my adventure: a half-empty flask of oil, a rotting torch, a crumbling whetstone, detritus that had once been road rations.  I opened the bolted-down chest by the wall and pulled out a pair of brown canvas pants and a dark red linen shirt.  I carried them downstairs to the wash room (which was mercifully devoid of any neighbor), where i took off my armor and cleaned it with a bucket of water and a stiff brush.  Then i removed my clothes, considered washing them and quickly decided instead to throw them into the dirty towel bin.  I jumped into the bathing pool and scrubbed myself with a sponge, feeling better with every stroke.  I dried myself with one of the dragon tongues that passed for towels in our building, dressed myself and returned to my room.

I took the last pair of my thick cotton socks (a luxury, but a welcome comfort that was well worth the expense) from the chest, pulled them on my feet and put on my boots.  I piled the hard leather plates into the bottom of my backpack, placed the rest of my clothes on top of them, then collected my few prized possessions from the lonely shelf on the wall next to the door: a fringed necklace (a gift from an old lover, although i suppose she wasn't old for an elf), a carved ebony mask from my homeland (or so i was sworn by the salesman from whom i'd purchased it — someday, i'd have to make the trip and find out the truth), and my first axe (more like a hatchet, a cheap piece of shit that nonetheless struck true enough often enough).  I strapped my battle axe to its usual home on the side of my pack and put my backpack on.  I walked over to the foot of the not-quite-long-enough-for-me bed, picked up my didjeridoo, and walked out.

I stopped by the landlord's office and found him hunched over a table, poring over a ledger.  I cleared my throat.  "Hey, Kashri."

He looked up and pushed his stringy blond hair out of his face.  "Hnh.  What."

"I'm moving out.  Here's the key."  I gave him my key.  "Thanks for the room.  Be well."

He jerked his head at me.  "Hnh."  He returned to his ledger.  I left.