You Know Our Love Was Meant to Be... The Kind of Love That Lasts Forever...
EDIT #4: And thus it is complete. I hope you've enjoyed yourself, Internet. Are we friends again?
EDIT #3: In a fit of bewilderment as to how to turn a person into a rodent, and bloody-minded determination to finish ar901's request, I Google Imaged for "anthro mouse". I now hate everything.
EDIT #2: Damn it, okay. Slowing up now. It took this long to realize that I kind of really fail at drawing anthro-art. I'm not sure how pleased or upset I should be about that. I've got a whole plane ride and a stopover to draw in tomorrow, though, filthies. I WILL get to everybody. Honest.
EDIT: First five done. Can't stop me now!
Okay, Livejournal. I know I'm late. But I'm sorry, baby. I am! Give me another chance!
I mean, here I am, standing on the roof of a hoopty old car (whose parking brake I'm not sure is operational), lugging around a radio that must weigh about eighty goddamn pounds, so I can imitate all those damned weepy chick flicks you like so much; risking horrific groinal injury and humiliations galore, just to try to get you to open up your window and grant me an audience with the Internet again.
I'm Henry the Fourth at your goddamn papal gates, Livejournal! What's it take, huh? Quit being so bloody Prussian!
See, baby - contrary to all appearances, I do love you. I do!
I love how your ability to customize icons can allow me to delude the entire Internet into thinking I'm much more adorable/badass than I really am. I love how you bring discussion and musing and poetry and movie reviews and whiny arguments over webcomics and "daily tidbits of comic book squee" right to my Internet doorstep. I even love how you can keep me informed on how everyone I know is much more successful than I am in easy-to-swallow/accept/rationalize daily doses, instead of letting it all come to a head at an incredibly depressing school reunion/comic convention/smoky den of iniquity somewhere down the line.
But it's not my fault, baby!
It was benchilada's idea!
See, Internet, because benchilada is a kind man with no regard for his own eyeballs or yours, he's encouraged yet another pointless entry. Rather than let this little journalbox circle the drain in peace, and let me gradually totter off into the sunset in a fog of paperwork, disillusionment, and rum; Mssr. benchilada is taking the first bold step to try and bring us together again.
I'm as frightened as you are, Internet. I daresay it's going to be a difficult process for both of us. But, damn it, he believes in us. Baby, we've got to try. For Ben.
Remember, Internet, this only works if you let it work.
So. The evil plot we've been hatching goes something like this. We all know I don't do anything worthwhile with my time, heavens no. But for some reason the crappy scribbles and the smudgy doodles I drunkenly pelt the Internet with on occasion bring me brief moments of contentment (and probably schadenfreude -- take that, actual artists! Watch me pollute the Internet with perversions of your beloved craft! Who can STOP me?).
(No, for real, though -- I'm just insanely jealous of you guys. Please don't kill me, 2sixteen or sagan_fox or lobsterbox.)
Which brings us to the dilly, yo'. Since I can't give you words, or intelligent conversation, or secrets of the universe:
Give me something to draw.
That's all.
I'll draw just about anything, as long as it isn't porn (because I'm not any bloody good at it), and - more importantly - if drawing it doesn't require any actual talent.
Want me to draw you a comic strip? Tell me something funny. Ever wondered how fast Samus Aran would roast my scabby ass if she was drawn in a style that made her look like a couple of tube socks tied together with some googly eyes on the heel? (Answer: Probably really fast.)
Ask a question, and I'll try to draw you the answer. Give me a song to listen to, and I'll make an incredibly unscientific attempt at converting sound into graphite scratching. Tell me what you want, and if I can draw it, it's yours.
(Tell me I'm wasting my time and... well, I'll probably agree with you.)
They might be giant splashy watercolor monstrosities that take hours, or they might be shitty pencil doodles I crap out in ten minutes or so, because I am fickle and also senile.
But hell, it's free, right? Terminal whimsy comes cheap.
I'll probably continue subjecting this frequency to crappy art until I get bored, or I collapse in a sobbing heap at the astronomical failure of potential that it represents.
I'm listening, Internet. Help me help you.
(you bring feeling to my life you're the inspiration)
EDIT #3: In a fit of bewilderment as to how to turn a person into a rodent, and bloody-minded determination to finish ar901's request, I Google Imaged for "anthro mouse". I now hate everything.
EDIT #2: Damn it, okay. Slowing up now. It took this long to realize that I kind of really fail at drawing anthro-art. I'm not sure how pleased or upset I should be about that. I've got a whole plane ride and a stopover to draw in tomorrow, though, filthies. I WILL get to everybody. Honest.
EDIT: First five done. Can't stop me now!
Okay, Livejournal. I know I'm late. But I'm sorry, baby. I am! Give me another chance!
I mean, here I am, standing on the roof of a hoopty old car (whose parking brake I'm not sure is operational), lugging around a radio that must weigh about eighty goddamn pounds, so I can imitate all those damned weepy chick flicks you like so much; risking horrific groinal injury and humiliations galore, just to try to get you to open up your window and grant me an audience with the Internet again.
I'm Henry the Fourth at your goddamn papal gates, Livejournal! What's it take, huh? Quit being so bloody Prussian!
See, baby - contrary to all appearances, I do love you. I do!
I love how your ability to customize icons can allow me to delude the entire Internet into thinking I'm much more adorable/badass than I really am. I love how you bring discussion and musing and poetry and movie reviews and whiny arguments over webcomics and "daily tidbits of comic book squee" right to my Internet doorstep. I even love how you can keep me informed on how everyone I know is much more successful than I am in easy-to-swallow/accept/rationalize daily doses, instead of letting it all come to a head at an incredibly depressing school reunion/comic convention/smoky den of iniquity somewhere down the line.
But it's not my fault, baby!
It was benchilada's idea!
See, Internet, because benchilada is a kind man with no regard for his own eyeballs or yours, he's encouraged yet another pointless entry. Rather than let this little journalbox circle the drain in peace, and let me gradually totter off into the sunset in a fog of paperwork, disillusionment, and rum; Mssr. benchilada is taking the first bold step to try and bring us together again.
I'm as frightened as you are, Internet. I daresay it's going to be a difficult process for both of us. But, damn it, he believes in us. Baby, we've got to try. For Ben.
Remember, Internet, this only works if you let it work.
So. The evil plot we've been hatching goes something like this. We all know I don't do anything worthwhile with my time, heavens no. But for some reason the crappy scribbles and the smudgy doodles I drunkenly pelt the Internet with on occasion bring me brief moments of contentment (and probably schadenfreude -- take that, actual artists! Watch me pollute the Internet with perversions of your beloved craft! Who can STOP me?).
(No, for real, though -- I'm just insanely jealous of you guys. Please don't kill me, 2sixteen or sagan_fox or lobsterbox.)
Which brings us to the dilly, yo'. Since I can't give you words, or intelligent conversation, or secrets of the universe:
Give me something to draw.
That's all.
I'll draw just about anything, as long as it isn't porn (because I'm not any bloody good at it), and - more importantly - if drawing it doesn't require any actual talent.
Want me to draw you a comic strip? Tell me something funny. Ever wondered how fast Samus Aran would roast my scabby ass if she was drawn in a style that made her look like a couple of tube socks tied together with some googly eyes on the heel? (Answer: Probably really fast.)
Ask a question, and I'll try to draw you the answer. Give me a song to listen to, and I'll make an incredibly unscientific attempt at converting sound into graphite scratching. Tell me what you want, and if I can draw it, it's yours.
(Tell me I'm wasting my time and... well, I'll probably agree with you.)
They might be giant splashy watercolor monstrosities that take hours, or they might be shitty pencil doodles I crap out in ten minutes or so, because I am fickle and also senile.
But hell, it's free, right? Terminal whimsy comes cheap.
I'll probably continue subjecting this frequency to crappy art until I get bored, or I collapse in a sobbing heap at the astronomical failure of potential that it represents.
I'm listening, Internet. Help me help you.
(you bring feeling to my life you're the inspiration)