Snores-Ville
Right, so, long time no update.
Not really all that unusual, really, but I've decided to try and give the whole "regular schedule" deal a spin to see how it works out.
So, expect to see a few more posts in your inboxes (whoever the hell watches this, I dunno).
First things first, an update on life in general, which I usually do anyway when I've been gone for a while.
So, I've started my fourth quarter at the local community college, and I'm actually having quite a lot of fun with it. Helps that I get to pick my own classes and everything due to the fact that I'm not in a degree program. Go freedom of choice. I've got three classes this quarter, unusual for me, but I'm thinking of dropping the Computer Art class due to the fact that it's a complete and utter BABY class and I'm bored out of my skull. If I do drop it, it'll give me back two nights a week to myself to work on homework for the other two classes, which are Creative Writing and Figure Drawing, both of which are badass and way fun.
I'm still working on my backlog of projects from DeviantArt, so I might actually get some of the writing and such done as homework for the Creative Writing class. More on that later.
I still haven't got up the guts to go for my driver's license, and I've yet to get a job, though I've been pestering the nice bloke at Barnes and Nobles off and on, so I might actually be on to something.
Now, what I intend to do with this journal.
I'm hoping to post up some more of my WIP stuff, writing and drawing I haven't yet finished but are in the process of getting done. It'll most likely consist of stuff from my classes, unless I get up off my ass and get more of those projects underway.
When (read: If) I get back into the paintchat and Tegaki stuff, I'll probably be posting most of it here, so I don't spam my main gallery on dA. I'm also hoping to break out the old digital camera and get some shots in for my art classes.
Aaaaaand you've been listening to me ramble on for a good while, so I'm rewarding your patience with a snippet of a short I've been working on in my Creative Writing class.
Enjoy~!
No one knew exactly just where the stranger had come from, but he was polite and kept to himself most of the time, so no one really cared when he wandered into the local drinking house almost every other night.
There was no real set routine for his visits, he would just drop by every once in a while, a tall lanky fellow with a nice smile and the large callused hands of a working man. He always ordered the same thing, a single bottle of the local brew, and preferred to tuck himself away in the narrow little booth in the far corner where he could look out over the whole room, though he occasionally plunked himself down at the bar on the stool closest to the door.
Unlike the majority of the pub's patrons, he didn't seem to be trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol, since he rarely ordered more than that one beer. He actually seemed to be more inclined to simply sit and watch people, peering out over his yellow-tinted aviators while he nursed his beer.
Then one of the new girls, a pale slip of a thing with big brown doe eyes and a frazzled mop of copper hair who went by Tracy, tripped over a loose floorboard and ended up flat on her face in a puddle of broken glass and alcohol. While some of the ruder patrons jeered and poked fun at Tracy's clumsiness, the stranger had strode up and helped the poor girl to her feet, offering quiet words of comfort as he led her back behind the bar to the restroom so she could get herself cleaned up. When she had returned from the restroom, the mess had been cleaned up and the bullies were sporting a few new bruises. And the man himself was waiting for her, drinks tray in hand. She had thanked him, and he had smiled, saying it was only the courteous thing to do in that smooth Australian accent before wandering off back to his corner.
After that, little Tracy always made sure Miles kept a spare bottle of McKinnon's brew set aside for the tall stranger who had treated her so kindly.
Time passed, and the man kept dropping by, sometimes late, sometimes early, sometimes just as they were about to close up for the night, never asking for more than his one beer and the lonely corner booth. He became sort of a local mystery, the waitresses trading rumors and Miles commenting to Louis from the brewery about the skinny Australian bloke who particularly liked the local ale.
"Don't you ever order anything else?"
The man looked up from his beer, tipping back his wide-brimmed hat with a gloved thumb to get a better look at the buxom blonde giving him the Evil Eye. He smiled, one side of his mouth quirking up further than the other and baring a sharp canine to the low lamplight.
"Whaddye recommend?"
And all of a sudden, it became a contest to see which girl could figure out the stranger's favorite drink, each waitress pestering poor Miles into mixing up every concoction in his repertoire.
He took it all in stride, carefully sipping at the various glasses and shots the young ladies brought his way, and the girls found a new respect for the man who kept his hands to himself and his eyes on theirs even when he started to list a little in his seat. When he finally downed the last sip of a scotch on the rocks amidst the rainbow-colored plethora of half-finished drinks, Lydia was pronounced the winner and took home the considerable betting pool.
"Mind if I crash 'ere t'night, mate? I dun think I'll be makin' it home."
The elderly bartender really couldn't say no, mainly due to the fact the man passed out shortly after asking. A new guy wandered in the next morning while Miles was sweeping up for the night's business, a slender dark-haired gentleman in a pin-striped burgundy suit who strode up to the older man with all the smooth grace of a stalking feline.
"Pardon, monsieur, 'ave you seen a tall Australian-?"
"He's in the back."
The Frenchman looked startled for a second, taken aback by the bartender's abrupt response, but he quickly composed himself, pulling a cigarette from somewhere within his suit jacket and lighting it with practiced ease as Miles set aside his broom, digging a set of keys out of his pants pocket as he made for the rear of the establishment.
"Girls got him drunker 'n' a skunk last night, let 'im borrow the break room couch 'stead of passin' out in some alley on 'is way home."
"Eet iz appreciated, mon ami. We were worried about 'im."
"We?"
"Oui."
Miles gave a bewildered glance over his shoulder, but the other man didn't seem to notice his lingual slip up, taking a drag from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke out his rather prominent nose as he waited patiently for the elderly bartender to sort out the right key.
As usual, totally open for critique and pointers.
Not really all that unusual, really, but I've decided to try and give the whole "regular schedule" deal a spin to see how it works out.
So, expect to see a few more posts in your inboxes (whoever the hell watches this, I dunno).
First things first, an update on life in general, which I usually do anyway when I've been gone for a while.
So, I've started my fourth quarter at the local community college, and I'm actually having quite a lot of fun with it. Helps that I get to pick my own classes and everything due to the fact that I'm not in a degree program. Go freedom of choice. I've got three classes this quarter, unusual for me, but I'm thinking of dropping the Computer Art class due to the fact that it's a complete and utter BABY class and I'm bored out of my skull. If I do drop it, it'll give me back two nights a week to myself to work on homework for the other two classes, which are Creative Writing and Figure Drawing, both of which are badass and way fun.
I'm still working on my backlog of projects from DeviantArt, so I might actually get some of the writing and such done as homework for the Creative Writing class. More on that later.
I still haven't got up the guts to go for my driver's license, and I've yet to get a job, though I've been pestering the nice bloke at Barnes and Nobles off and on, so I might actually be on to something.
Now, what I intend to do with this journal.
I'm hoping to post up some more of my WIP stuff, writing and drawing I haven't yet finished but are in the process of getting done. It'll most likely consist of stuff from my classes, unless I get up off my ass and get more of those projects underway.
When (read: If) I get back into the paintchat and Tegaki stuff, I'll probably be posting most of it here, so I don't spam my main gallery on dA. I'm also hoping to break out the old digital camera and get some shots in for my art classes.
Aaaaaand you've been listening to me ramble on for a good while, so I'm rewarding your patience with a snippet of a short I've been working on in my Creative Writing class.
Enjoy~!
No one knew exactly just where the stranger had come from, but he was polite and kept to himself most of the time, so no one really cared when he wandered into the local drinking house almost every other night.
There was no real set routine for his visits, he would just drop by every once in a while, a tall lanky fellow with a nice smile and the large callused hands of a working man. He always ordered the same thing, a single bottle of the local brew, and preferred to tuck himself away in the narrow little booth in the far corner where he could look out over the whole room, though he occasionally plunked himself down at the bar on the stool closest to the door.
Unlike the majority of the pub's patrons, he didn't seem to be trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol, since he rarely ordered more than that one beer. He actually seemed to be more inclined to simply sit and watch people, peering out over his yellow-tinted aviators while he nursed his beer.
Then one of the new girls, a pale slip of a thing with big brown doe eyes and a frazzled mop of copper hair who went by Tracy, tripped over a loose floorboard and ended up flat on her face in a puddle of broken glass and alcohol. While some of the ruder patrons jeered and poked fun at Tracy's clumsiness, the stranger had strode up and helped the poor girl to her feet, offering quiet words of comfort as he led her back behind the bar to the restroom so she could get herself cleaned up. When she had returned from the restroom, the mess had been cleaned up and the bullies were sporting a few new bruises. And the man himself was waiting for her, drinks tray in hand. She had thanked him, and he had smiled, saying it was only the courteous thing to do in that smooth Australian accent before wandering off back to his corner.
After that, little Tracy always made sure Miles kept a spare bottle of McKinnon's brew set aside for the tall stranger who had treated her so kindly.
Time passed, and the man kept dropping by, sometimes late, sometimes early, sometimes just as they were about to close up for the night, never asking for more than his one beer and the lonely corner booth. He became sort of a local mystery, the waitresses trading rumors and Miles commenting to Louis from the brewery about the skinny Australian bloke who particularly liked the local ale.
"Don't you ever order anything else?"
The man looked up from his beer, tipping back his wide-brimmed hat with a gloved thumb to get a better look at the buxom blonde giving him the Evil Eye. He smiled, one side of his mouth quirking up further than the other and baring a sharp canine to the low lamplight.
"Whaddye recommend?"
And all of a sudden, it became a contest to see which girl could figure out the stranger's favorite drink, each waitress pestering poor Miles into mixing up every concoction in his repertoire.
He took it all in stride, carefully sipping at the various glasses and shots the young ladies brought his way, and the girls found a new respect for the man who kept his hands to himself and his eyes on theirs even when he started to list a little in his seat. When he finally downed the last sip of a scotch on the rocks amidst the rainbow-colored plethora of half-finished drinks, Lydia was pronounced the winner and took home the considerable betting pool.
"Mind if I crash 'ere t'night, mate? I dun think I'll be makin' it home."
The elderly bartender really couldn't say no, mainly due to the fact the man passed out shortly after asking. A new guy wandered in the next morning while Miles was sweeping up for the night's business, a slender dark-haired gentleman in a pin-striped burgundy suit who strode up to the older man with all the smooth grace of a stalking feline.
"Pardon, monsieur, 'ave you seen a tall Australian-?"
"He's in the back."
The Frenchman looked startled for a second, taken aback by the bartender's abrupt response, but he quickly composed himself, pulling a cigarette from somewhere within his suit jacket and lighting it with practiced ease as Miles set aside his broom, digging a set of keys out of his pants pocket as he made for the rear of the establishment.
"Girls got him drunker 'n' a skunk last night, let 'im borrow the break room couch 'stead of passin' out in some alley on 'is way home."
"Eet iz appreciated, mon ami. We were worried about 'im."
"We?"
"Oui."
Miles gave a bewildered glance over his shoulder, but the other man didn't seem to notice his lingual slip up, taking a drag from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke out his rather prominent nose as he waited patiently for the elderly bartender to sort out the right key.
As usual, totally open for critique and pointers.