The Experiment Continues

Sent in 3 T Shirt designs to be scored on Threadless You can see me and my designs on Threadless HERE.

The one that got the most comments and people praising it -- got the lowest score. The one that I worked the hardest on and was the most bold got the second highest. The one I made in about an hour, and sloppily I might add, got the highest score. Still the scores were just under what it takes for Threadless to judge my work for print, or so I think. So experiment complete. I have other designs to make but for now...Moving on.

I'm writing scripts again. And they are tight little works of wonder. Hollywood friendly, and yet to my standards as a writer/viewer of movies. That's the real challenge to me: Creating something sellable while not compromising what I want to see out of a story. It's hard as hell but that's where the fun comes in. In fact, the "hollywood formula" can actually help at times. It gives you a structure to fall back on when in doubt, it gives you more depth to emotion as it usually demands a love interest. And what's wrong with a love interest? If you went out on your greatest adventure would you not expect to have some crushes along the way? In the end, I mix a strange brew. It's me, it's creepy, it's funny, and unpredictable in substance, and yet it has the ingredients for what sells tossed in for flavoring. To me, that's the craft - not just the story, but getting your work bought and seen by everyone. This may be a view others feel is selling out or that they are above it, but I didn't get into art planning to starve and then kill myself with a rusty paintbrush one day. For me it is more about getting my story out to more people over the money, and if that's selling out then color me your favorite shade of sell out.

So I'm designing tattoos lately. So far I slapped on one my arm this summer and it turns heads for sure.

My new forearm.

While most people get pictures of...whatever. I designed a stamp that makes it look like I am a marked soldier in the 13th Legion of Rome. A classic Roman serif font. A bold hard square design. Perfect placement. How can't people look at it? It's a reminder to me about America. We're Imperial Rome in many ways. We drink and roam the streets as Pagans in search of our next folly. We have it all and we're as debaucherous as Romans ever were. There's much more to my tattoo as well - the 13th Legion rebeled and crossed the Rubicon river under Ceasar as well as took in mean thuggin' Germans like myself into their ranks as Ceasars bodyguards. The reasons and meanings behind this tattoo go on and on. And I shant bore you with details unless we run into each other in a bar someday and you ask.

So work and so play.

There's something strange happening.

My job has devolved into pure janitorial duties. Being a security guard is so out the door that I don't even think to scan the room and watch people anymore. It just gets in the way of me changing light bulbs. However I work with good people.

And my art is strange lately too. Im hired to do T shirt designs but once again I feel my stubborn head when it comes to making what I want to make might be keeping them from getting printed. Oh well, there's always Threadless. I'll be applying for a 2D art job with a video game company down the street. I swore off games this summer, ironically, and playing them isn't fun for me really, but somehow I think that makes me better for the job, as I will strive harder to make a game cool looking and fun for someone as critical and jaded as I am.

Jaded. Good word. That's me lately. I have parties constantly. I have great friends, and loves, and health, and things going my way, and yet - there's a disturbing hole there. I don't have answers on how to fill it. I miss people. Some of them won't even talk to me or treat me like a human being. I suck at letting go. I suck at a lot of things others excel at, while I can do things they'll never be able to do. What can I do, really? I have no answers. Maybe I'm just an asshole who will never be happy with anything he has, and I hate those guys.

I realize I'm typing on a blog no one reads but me. I guess it's a good journal for the future, so I can look back and say "Damn, I was a whiney skank back then", just like I always end up doing as I get older. Ha.

My dream used to be: Go to LA, nail gorgeous women, and sell scripts and watch your movies get made.

Now it's: Be a guy with a bike in Chicago, with a small, but cozy apartment, and a nice, normal woman to share a couch with.

I don't know how this happened. I guess it's always been part of me to realize I want more simple things out of life. Too bad this realization came too late for me in some regards. I don't know if I should strive for some hollow chance at greatness or just end up on a ranch somewhere alone and making furniture.

We will see.

- B