My Illustrative Life

A little while ago, I asked for concrit on my narration of the first two pages of a ghost story by A.C. Benson. None of you gave me any, which is a grudge I shall naturally hold forever, but nevertheless I am giving you a SECOND CHANCE. Look pleased!

Here’s a re-post of the first section. It’s audio only, but I know how to upload to youtube and so I will use that knowledge! Just keep it open in a tab at the back while you do something else, if you feel you may be bored by a lack of visuals.

And here is the newly uploaded, recorded today SECOND PART. Three whole pages this time, o yes I SPOIL you! Our Hero Paullinus has reached the point of no escape, though the really monstrous happening are yet to surface.

I really would like constructive criticism on my reading. I will even help you; upon listening in order to edit I have noticed that I need to:

1. speak less portentously
2. make more differentiation between voices, or voices and narration
3. need to slow the heck down sometimes

for example! What else? Please tell me! I will say, “thank you”.

Hallo.

It may be spring, officially (or it may not? I’m not actually sure), but that does not mean it’s warm and balmy. No, I still need a double-layered underskirt and wool shorts to keep me comfortably warm. And a fine-knit woolen sweater.

I was going to hang around in the garden and draw flowers and bits of wood and such, because illustrating backgrounds (or; anything that isn’t people) is something that I don’t much do. Because I don’t like to, and subsequently when I need to it doesn’t come out very well, which again - makes me like it less. NO NO SHAMEFUL LAZINESS. Draw from life, draw from life!

But! Like I said. Too cold for only one skirt means too cold for bare fingers, so alas I must stay indoors.

I use my house arrest to watch the latest Linkara review and do other kinds of study. Today, I swallow my mad pride and study Tove Jansson’s Moomin* expressions. They are so painfully good. I say “mad pride” because, in my arrogance, I hate to admit that people have skills and knowledge I do not! It is ridiculous!

And so, la! Theme work!

‘Ow do you like my new scarf-pin? “New”; I found it in one of my local-ish antiques centers. How truly antique is it? Who can say! I don’t much mind; it does the job I need it for, and looks like an anemone. It doesn’t have the middle-nub, but I figure everyone’s entitled to modesty. Anemones are my favourite. Plus, it makes me feel a little safer and more practical. You never know when you may need to pin something to something!

Wore it to make my fire, too.

*I know, I know - I had the Little My nightmares too. But that was the cartoon, not the gorgeous gorgeous books or comic strips, and in the books? Her character is wonderful. My very favourite. Referring to her as an “action girl”, which TVTropes does, is a massive injustice. And she doesn’t have THAT VOICE.

Coming later today or tomorrow: Makeover Movie Madness SPOILERS edition 2: Desperately Seeking Susan

Unrelated: How good would a Vanessa Paradis / Kana duet/battle album be??

…Odd angle..

The crocii (crocuses?) are pretty today:

This is so cute!

Bonus: An Impression - The Miracle of Birth!

Been cleaning the house all day.. finally relaxing with Wayne’s World 2. One of the best films, this is. Y-M-C-A!

P.S. JOIN THE GREETINGS REVOLUTION

Oh I forgot! The best thing about these massive medieval pockets! They make it so easy to reach snax!

I spoke of The Legend of Billie Jean before, but I didn’t (couldn’t) do it (her) justice. I can’t believe Pat Benatar anecdotally refers to it as “the worst movie of all time” when she performs the theme at her concerts. Gosh darn this movie is inspiring!

Billie Jean Davy is seventeen and lives with her mother and her brother in a trailer park in Texas. When a massive jerk steals her brother’s bike she asks the police to bring it back, and is told that Hubie (the jerk) was “probably just trying to get your attention” because she’s “a pretty girl”. When she arrives home, the bike is trashed - and her brother is too, after trying to get it back.

Billie Jean takes Hubie a bill for the scooter’s repair, and his father tells her to come on upstairs for the money (he doesn’t keep that much in the till) after disparaging his son. She goes, and he gives her fifty dollars and expresses his intent to rape her. When she flees, Binx (her brother) accidentally shoots the bastard with the “unloaded” gun that’s kept in the till.. and Billie Jean and co are on the run.

The policeman Billie Jean originally went to is the one assigned the shooting case and realises, as soon as he sees her picture, that it’s his fool fault that it went so far. The story continues with Billie Jean (and Binx, and their two friends) on the run as outlaws, refusing to give themselves up until they’re paid the six hundred and eight dollars that they’re owed for the scooter’s repair. Hubie’s father refuses to pay, because he is an enormous jackass, so the whole thing goes on for ages, with Billie Jean becoming more and more clearly aligned with the ideas of justice and taking a stand. She also naturally blossoms as a leader and a carer and I love this movie please excuse how dry I am making it sound.

Anyway, at one of the peaks of her journey Billie Jean is introduced (by a kid she clearly finds mondo foxy (above)) to the story of Joan of Arc. She watches the black and white film to the end, and when it’s done she expresses her decision to make a video - answer the media’s accusations. She stops running, and starts to fight. When the video equipment is set up, Billie Jean emerges from the bathroom having gone from this:

To this:

Let’s lay aside for a moment that fact that BJ2 here reminds me fiercely of Amber from the Tribe, who is the only fourteen year old I might call “a personal hero”. The music for this scene is an instrumental section of the Benatar theme, and it’s perfect. Stirring, badass, a little on-edge; Billie Jean’s clearly a bit shy about her new hair, but the kind of shy that means I look amazing, I feel so good, so good it makes me vulnerable. The cutting of hair is so symbolic even apart from the Jeanne d’Arc ref (and it’s one of my favourite tropes, actually, as I quite strongly indicated in this post at BSB). It can mean so many different things.

The extreme removal of (head) hair has a pretty strong tradition of meaning “brutal”. The type of brutality varies with context, of course, but very very rarely is it a gentle thing of joy and wonder.

For a western man, shearing/brutality usually mean “this is an act of power”. Skinheads have a semiotic reputation of violence (violence that they hypothetically commit). Draft-based fiction usually has a ‘we all get our heads shaved’ scene; male soldiers in real life have buzz cuts. That Taxi Driver/Heat Guy shaving is an act directly prior to an assassination.

For western women, on the whole the connotations are quite different - there are many stories of post WW2 women who were thought to have ‘dallied’ with enemy soldiers or betrayed their country in other ways being forcibly shaved and paraded through the streets or beaten. Girls sent to nunneries had their hair cut, numerous stories for or about girls feature the removal of somebody’s hair to their great dismay: the section of A Pack of Lies set in India, Berenice Bobs Her Hair, Little Women, and a book I read in the infants that I can’t recall the name of (it also featured a pair of green P.E. shorts stuffed up a drainpipe, if that helps?), off the top of my head.

One pro-power female example is the flappers’ bobs; “I can be independent if I want to, you can’t make me your Rapunzel”. Just as relevant. Oh, and George from the Famous Five.

Sudden removal of long locks essentially means one of two things, in western storytelling: “I have the power” or “I have not any power”. On Billie Jean, it means both and that is why I adore it so. She’s an outlaw through another’s fault and direct maliciousness and she really has NO power over the situation - she’s a girl, she’s underage, she’s poor; he’s a man, he’s an adult, he’s a businessman. But she’s not going to just sit back and let it happen. FAIR IS FAIR, after all, and that’s the sort of factual statement that is power unchallengable. Just ask Sirius Black, the only sane man in Azkaban.

There’s more to Billie Jean’s makeover than the hair, of course, but you can watch the movie and dissect or absorb that for yourself. It’s worth it, Guide’s honour. There’s no DVD as yet (veoh has it..) but I got myself a VHS copy from Amazon Marketplace. Not expensive. You HAVE to see how the Joan parallels play out, too.

The reason I rate this Makeover Movie so highly is the depth of emotion and resonance with the rest of the film the physical “make-over” has (waaaatch iiiiit). The Legend of Billie Jean is the kind of movie that causes me an amount of physical pain to imagine how hard I would have clung to it had I seen it as an a teenager. A ferocious and noble inner life matched with a faultless, no matter how eighties, outer style? My wagon is hitched, for life.

The Pat Benatar song with scenes from the film is below - and watching it now I notice how extremely Billie Jean’s body language changes with her haircut. From the determined but swamped good girl, to the fierce as all heck, much much looser Warrior for Right! The scene at the very end is her watching Joan of Arc.

My mum and sister had half-term last week, so we took an overnighter in Buxton. To walk in nature, and.. look at stuff. We stopped at Chatsworth House (because my sister is a big squealer for Pride and Prejudice), which as you can see above is quite delightful. This is the view from one side of the bridge:

One of several reasons I am proud to volunteer for BW: Waterways are wonderful. So pretty! I drew as much as my freezin’ fingers would let me.

There are links to more pictures (reference/stock) of these gorgeous landscapes in the righthand sidebar.

Also fascinating was the toilet paper, where we stayed. No really, take a gander!

Lots of charming pokey shops, too; antiques and bookshops aplenty. A surprising amount of clothing, in the antiques emporiums in and around Buxton actually - maybe it’s a local thing, but ‘vintage’ seems to be creeping in all over where it was once disdained. I may be being overly romantic.

There was the most excellent bookshop. Second-hand, antique to current, FIVE FLOORS. It had free tea and coffee! That you could make for yourself! It was glorious, and I kick myself for not being in the right sort of mood to really appreciate it. Then again, I really can’t afford to be stocking up on old, old thick books with the sorts of covers that make you want to weep from the perfection of illustration.

Where was my mind? Photographic evidence:

The horrors (and adventures) of my youth.

Truth be told I came out with exactly what I did want - Teacher’s Pet by Caroline B. Cooney, a Point Horror (remember those?) that chilled me so royally that I refused to use the downstairs bathroom for years. I’ve been looking for it for months; I wanted to see if it still had the power.

In the story the heroine finds a rough workmans glove in the woods, which turns out to still have a hand in it. My dad keeps his work gloves in the downstairs loo. I was a nervous and imaginative child!

So, watch out for THAT review, coming soon..

It snowed! The end!

I aquired this advert page (got my sister to rip it out of a magazine (she was in the corner, I was in view) in a cafe) last weekend. And not for the reason you may suspect! Compared to my beloved this dude is weaksauce. Not to disparage his objective attractiveness..

I think that the current ad campaign for Gaultier’s Le Male (and whatever the girly version is called) is pretty much super-great. Because it’s a male/female pair, and both versions are almost exactly the same. They’re both soft, but not too soft. Both a little bit fetish-y; the corset for the lady, the sailor outfit for the guy (I love his little hat!). Mimifroufrou.com says

The advertising plays on the ambiguity of a masculine image that is appealing to the gay community for its Querelle de Brest reference but is shown in the TV commercial to be heterosexual.

I don’t know if that’s the intention or the precise direction of the direction (I can certainly believe it) but I do know that I enjoy the heck out of it. This “appealing to the gay community” isn’t just doing that - it’s appealing to the me community.

I don’t want to see ‘traditional’ manly man men man in adverts. They’re boring; I’ve seen them since forever. They don’t interest me because I like balance.. and that applies to all areas.

I like to see trad-masculine balanced with trad-feminine. Why does Hokuto No Ken appeal to my heart so well? Because it’s about uberdudes whose hearts are crying even as they tear off heads. Why do I like to read Being Manly? Because it’s about ‘manliness and masculinities’ (emphasis masculinities) approached in a gender-inclusive, polite way that makes me (a lady!) feel welcomed, and talks about gender relations and gender roles in a positive way. Why do I like to wear Dr Martens and a heavy leather coat on my wide shoulders and army surplus(/inspired) hats? Because I really like to wear pink skirts! Why did I make Laurence Llewellyn Bowen my style icon (and nickname, though I didn’t make that happen, so much) in sixth form?

Because I was at an all-girls school and most of my friends were vocally into lipgloss and high heels. Why do I love the Runaways so hard? Because they were girls who wore girl clothes and who were assertive and who weren’t ladylike and sang about screwing and drinking. I did a whole great long poorly formatted post early on in this blog’s life about my enjoyment of Jean Claude Van Damme movies due to the, perhaps, “masculine femininity” or “feminine masculinity” of the majority of them. Why do I stare so hard and long at my beloved’s Disney-princess eyelashes (other than the whole “I love him” thing)?

For the same reason as why I think these two adverts are the bees knees. Because they’re not so flippin’ gender binary as most of what gets thrown in my face in the everyday.

It’s some kind of mad dream to see a “I just had sex with a lady” gent doing anything other than thinking “I am SO AMAZINGLY THE BEST because getting ladies means you WIN”. It is some kind of madder dream to see a post lady-sex guy doing semi-submissiv, emotion-based flexing about in tight pants and trousers, putting on a little hat (for his own enjoyment!). I’ve got no idea what these scents smell like, but I am fully pro-them.

You see? Advertsising CAN make me want to buy things! It just usually does the opposite.

They ain’t perfect. She could have a smirk after smelling the pillow too. But that? Is a pretty small complaint, considering.

Yesterday my mum and my sister and I visited my Great Aunt, who lives a fair way away in (my ancestral) Coventry, and took her to Coombe Abbey. Coombe Abbey, if you haven’t been, is awesome.

I haven’t taken any pictures of one reason it was so awesome, because that is probably illegal - there were tons and tons of kids there. Loads. I know it’s half term and all, but it was a joy to see youngins running about yelling at ducks, enjoying forest pathways, climbing banks, shouting “I AM THE TALKING BUSH” and shaking branches from inside evergreens which branch from ground-level, walking dogs, and QUITE CLEARLY being on dates. Too cute. If you are ever thinking, “oh alas children do not like nature any more, only wii, how sad!”, you should go to Coombe Abbey (at half term).

It has buildings, and grounds (lots), and just about every type of country landscape you could ask for. There’s a pond at the front of (what I think is) the hotel that has a sort of aqueduct non-bridge pathway across it; on one side it’s nature free and wobbly and undergrowth, on the other it’s nurture - angular and groomed, statues in the water, box-shaped box hedges.

There are paths to follow in various directions, which managed to turn me completely around and take me by surprise. I thought I’d reached a new building, but it was the one we started at. Cunning! The whole place has a sense of mystery though, the way it’s lain out - there’s always something just visible through or past or behind what you’re looking at.

The grounds were really, really pretty. These don’t do them justice because I am not a good photographer (and the camera I was borrowing is kind of weird and colour-bleaching/non-focusable).

Coombe Abbey also contains the spookiest tree-bourne sculpture I have ever seen. The black dog in this picture was being called forcefully by its owners, but I was willing it to stay in the frame long enough for the darn picture to take..

Seriously, is that supposed to be.. what is that supposed to be??

What’s a day out without a fitting outfit? NOTHING, THAT is what!! In a moment of great serendipity, my super-fantastic dreamskirt from Modelle - via the NASTY GAL sale - arrived that morning..

I was sure I would be able to see my own foot through the trunk’s various holes if only I stretched far enough..

I couldn’t.

BONUS: Me totally failing to replicate the awesome height achieved by my first run-up, which my fool sister MISSED CURSE HER.

And with that, I’ll go back where I came from.

Has anyone else noticed that all the Valentines-themed window displays this year are red (with silver or black accoutrements)? Red to hot pink, at least. Where is all the marshmallowy pink, the fluffy powder colours, the teddy bears swearing eternal affection? Everwhere I looked, in town yesterday, there were red satin undergarments with the spindliest of garter belts (they won’t work, don’t you want your sexy to be practical too?), and shiny metallic balloons.

I did consider that it was a display of solidarity with China, any British-Chinese or visiting tourists, Chinese New Year falling today also. Red being an important related colour. But there wasn’t any gold involved, and besides - shop windows don’t tend to be that inclusive.

I hope you’re having a fine day, whatever you’re celebrating or whatever you aren’t. I do think it’s a shame when people are vitriolic against Saint Valentine’s Day, because being martyred because you refused to disallow soldiers to marry is pretty bloody admirable if you ask me. And technically, by visiting my blog, you did. Ha-HAH! I think it’s a day to celebrate, unless you prefer to make it a day for activism - St. V died for the cause of marriage for a portion of the population who higher-ups felt shouldn’t be allowed it. Who knows what his views on homosexuality would be, but luckily for us (and the whole point of this is that) he’s dead - so he can’t complain if we use his Day to say “Hey, Governments - Let Your People Marry”.

I was unconsciously mirroring the red red world, when I ventured out into it to search out records with my newly-drivers’-liscenced sister. My reds were deeper though, because straight-up primary colours make me look startled. And besides, I like the mystery of a slightly dirty hue.

I couldn’t physically be with my beloved for Valentine’s Day - actually, we’ve never been together on The Day (don’t worry! It’s never mattered, either) - and I’m not near any New Year celebrations as I thought I would be so I’m here typing.. Able to say that if you are feeling blue (and so quite out of place) then all you need to do is put on some dreamin’ gear and use that in-head laptop we call ‘imagination’ to fly you to where and with whom you really want to be. Look, I’ll show you:

Oh - and I beg your pardon, happy New Year to China, and anyone who celebrates!

My Dad was in Brussels last week, and brought back a magazine called Numero. My sister bagsy’d it, but let me rip out a few pages - I could have them if she didn’t want them. Which was fine, on the whole. But over one page in particular, I must confess - we fought!

A shame, I know. To be torn apart by a mere spread of garments! But I wanted it for inspiration, she wanted it for inspiration. Alas. Eventually we settled upon: I would have the dress from the centre, she would keep the shoes. And I had to let her take the following picture. I didn’t mind that at all, because this picture was a brilliant idea and I’m annoyed I didn’t think of it first. I will be using it again though.

My argument to keep it was that I would actually wear it in real life, and she wouldn’t. Which is true. I would wear the heck out of this!

I couldn’t figure out who the dress was by, because the magazine was in French and I have forgotten a shameful amount of the basic skills I ever had. And I don’t know what she’s done with the page, now, either. I’ll update if/when I can!

So, you may have noticed that I kid of dig Jane Marple clothing. And it’s true, I do! I’m wearing it today, top and bottom. I think JM is the best brand I ever did have the pleasure of wearing. Or viewing, actually - it may not be couture, but it taps my rhythms just right. It’s a Japanese company, and they don’t sell online - or that widely at all, I believe. A few outlets here and there, one or two official boutiques? I know there’s one place in Australia that carries their lines!

I don’t live in Australia (or Japan) though, and have no plans to visit. Plus, of course, Jane does not come cheap - first-hand Marple asks for more pieces of eight than I’m willing to part with. Thus: Rinkya.

It’s quite easy to feel that Jane Maple is far beyond your possibilities. I found the brand through the first FRUiTS volume and followed it onto the various Street Style LJ comms, and I wasn’t the only one (by far!) bemoaning the impossibility of getting my hands on these gorgeous garments. Proxy bidding services just aren’t a part of a lot of (most?) people’s internet consciousness; I only tried Rinkya after a lot of encouragement from a fellow JM appreciator who wanted everyone who felt the urge to enjoy their clothes! So I’m trying to Pay It Forward: USE RINKYA! IT’S GREAT!

You can find the FAQ here and an explanation of their fee system here - but the gist of the matter is that they let you browse the yahoo!japan auctions without knowing the language, and act as a middle man between you and sellers who don’t ship outside the country (a lot of them, actually!) or speak (or are willing to speak) English (or whatever you speak!). They’re friendly!

But instead of just talking, I’m gonna show you the best Jane Marple items available on Rinkya right now that I’m not going to buy. Because I want to spread the bounty, but I also (like Jackie) want what I want. OK, Let’s go!

Seriously, LOOK AT THESE. They are smart. I don’t wear heels that aren’t made of purple glittery platform, but if I did, they would be these.

Satin. Drop-waist. Lace collar. Pleats. It looks gen-yu-wine twenties good girl (secretly spunky) rich daughter London//country estate, but it ain’t. Which is good, because it means you don’t have to worry that it’ll fall apart!

That’s just pretty. Delicate, yet mysterious.

If you don’t think that The Sound of Music is one of the most stylish films going, you should probably watch it again. You won’t mind, because that film has singing nuns. And Captain Von Trapp is very fruity; it is marvelous to watch once you have realised.

Purple. Textured knit. Thigh-high. Going for only 500 yen.

I WANT THIS. But belts never fit me. Ever.

Spring and summer are coming, and these are so forest-pretty with the promise of secret toughness (leather, wood, brass for stabbing). I don’t wear open-toes shoes because I get pebbles under my toes, and I don’t really like inflexible soles or having my hair being held rigid. I do have one or two very pretty hairslides that I use to keep scarves in place, though, so maybe you could try this for that..?

Interesting but not pointless exploration of jersey! Sweaterdress for cooler weather, check, vest for cooler-than-hot weather, CHECK! I’m not keen on the “Love me”, but if that’s your thing then I say thank goodness for diversity of opinion. I really like the orange sherrrrr-berrrrt with the candypink on the vest; JM uses a lot of off-track colours, actually.

Click the pictures to get to the auctions. They’re all in yen (divide by 100 to get an approximate dollar value), and you need to sign up to rinkya before you can bid (don’t forget to read the rules!). But. The point is: it is worth it. These clothes are well-made and off-beat, and despite the fact that most of them are second hand there are a LOT of clothes still with tags on, or worn only two or three times.

I feel like whenever I buy with this service, I’m supporting my favourite brand. One the one hand by wearing their things, and on the other by freeing up wardrobe space and spare cash for the girls who do buy new. It’s the circle of life, and it moves us all.

I don’t always illustrate my face subject to the thoughts I had when I dressed for the day. Sometimes I do, but sometimes I just add what I think would look fitting based on the taken photograph, or to add a balancing agent to the mix (for example, if I look bodaciously Disney-buxom, I’ll probably add a manface). Sometimes I add a completely new element, to see how it changes the story of the clothing and my body language.

Today my creative process went like this:

“Haha, this outfit looks way sixties! A thinking socialite, like the ones from the movies, who took the Sound of Music straight to heart. Such things were nowhere near my mind when I put this stuff on! How interesting! I think I shall add a snooty model head, to complete the ensemble.”

“Hmmm. A lot of my thighs are visible here. How can I make a thigh look interesting? Well, much as I dislike him, Batman has made forearms look interesting.. how can I improve on that.. fins.. fins.. mermaids?.. fishpeople.. Gillman!”

“I can’t be doing with drawing ANOTHER set of thigh scales. The Creature’s only my second favourite type of classic movie-monster, anyway; I’ll show that Kate Beckinsdale what for. What a twit.”

Sunday Sunday Sunday.

Well, I finally got to reading Tank Girl: Armadillo. I read it in bed, reading reading reading for a decent couple of hours like I always, always used to. Was it good? Should you buy it (or borrow, or.. loan it)? Let’s start at the start! And finish before the end (of the book), FYI; the second half is short stories and suchlike, and I haven’t read’em yet. You can do THAT for yourself.

There’re two prefaces, from the author, and I want you to read this little bit of one of them and understand why I didn’t read past it, in the common room lunch place at work, because of having “something in my eye”.

That’s kind. Kindness and fiction-appreciation are important. Honestly, I think this book is worth the purchase for that sentiment alone.

When I was reading I started out feeling uncomfortable, to be honest. You may be different and probably are but I really don’t find it easy to come in fresh to a story and start yellin’ WOOO, BLOW HIS HEAD OFF! I mentioned in the Jennifer’s Body SPOILERS how touchy I am about cannon fodder. I don’t need ameri-dubbing on my Dragonball to her “I think I see their parachutes!”, or whatever it was. I only catch six pokemon per game if I can manage it, for goodness sake, because shoving them inside a computer seems mean. I’m a big ole bleeding heart and hearing the idol of the novel say Okay, so we shot down a cop in cold blood. So fuckin’ what? makes me go “eeeeehhh” and squirm a bit. But what felt unusual is that the book (author/protag both) seems to acknowledge that. She say the italicised sentences in a page-chapter devoted to explaining how that’s not as muddy as it seems, how I shouldn’t judge her anyway, and how she doesn’t even care if I do. And not in such a deluded, self-convincing, distancing way as the way I put it makes it sound.

I still wasn’t completely cool with the thing of it, though. Which is why it was a relief when everybody revealed themselves to be such complete stinkers who were just as willing to solve problems with murder and carnage and pain as Tank Girl and her gang, only without being fun and kind and caring the rest of the time. In a world of shooting out brains before breakfast, motivation comes to be very meaningful. It’s an interesting authorial quirk, I think - the mixture of boisterous cartoonery and irredeemable-to-the-point-of-2d villains with the 3d motivation and realistic emotional resonance. Tank Girl really does, after a while, become a vessel for violent revenge/lesson fantasies. I don’t really feel ok thinking about feeding grenades to real world despicable people, or people who have crossed or simply annoyed me - it just feels counter-productive and even in my mental Holodeck I can’t ignore that people have.. well, whole people within themselves. But here? These people whose innards I can see are bad, bad, no-good people through and through. I have it on highest authority.

Tank Girl really was my armour, as I read this book.

It’s not just that though; Armadillo is a novel. It has a story. She and her peeps are making war on this one town full of heinous characters, who’ve ruined or messed with the lives of two (really three, I guess, but Sub Girl’s ex is never relevant as her ex) of the crew. It’s full of backstory, and re-weaving of now-story, and I think that makes it backstory for some of the previously published comics cos there’s no talk of any babies. I have no idea how Tank Girl canon works. I sort of don’t want to.

There’s also (I warned you in the post title here, SPOILERS) time travel. Which I enjoyed as a plot contrivance and a method to get extra emotional facts out there, but also because it was a very, very similar method to the one used in the film Somewhere in Time. I really dig that movie; Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour, gorgeous clothing, heart-wrenching plot. Excellent rainy day movie, and the leitmotif is a keeper. Tank Girl yammers on about a movie (and a particular song from it) she accidentally managed to see as a child which no-one else had heard of periodically, too, so I figure this is an extra relevant tangent.

Reading this book made me feel better about things. She’s not “the perfect person” and she’s not, of course, “real”. I’ve said before that reading T.G. comics make me want to dress like myself, not like her, and want to celebrate being myself, not like her. And that’s true, because you know when you read her that if you were to meet her, then she would either think you were rad or disgusting - and thinking that oneself is not rad is not the way to go about encouraging Tank Girls esteem. Plus, she speaks a lot of wisdom:

Buy it.

Wearing today addendum:

You may or may not know, my little (though actually bigger than me) sister is in a band. They do some of their own songs, and cover a bunch of songs in the Queen/The Who vein. I am very proud of her. But because of that, the fact that she can’t drive by herself yet, and the fact that her exams are over for now my family took a daytrip to the town where they’re playing tonight. Let’s explore Moreton in Marsh!

This first thing deserves a paragraph of its own - I walked around a tiny park, and the tiny park had no, I repeat no crisp packets outside of the bin. Say it with me: LET’S KEEP BRITAIN TIDY!

Moreton in Marsh is one of those confectionary towns. It’s “the gateway to the Cotswolds”; the main streets are just picturesque, all big blocks of sandstone, heavy doors (some giant, some tiny), great large windows on antique shops and gift shows and tea shops.

Speaking of tea shops. We ate lunch in The Marshmallow(where I got to read about four more pages of TG:Armadillo). I’d been pulling for Thai, but Dad pointed out that this Marshmallow had been honoured by UK Tea Council multiple times. And I do love a good cuppa. One of the Christmas presents I asked for - and received! Hurray! - was a subscription to the Twinings Tea of the Month club! I drank a pot of “Kenyan” (or.. was it “Kenya”?), because the menu described it as colourful. It was tasty, but it paled, actually, when lunch proper arrived. Cottage pie. Creamed mashed potato. Perfectly cooked vegetables. The end of my Mum’s beef casserole with cobbler. A fair bit of my sister’s portion of veg. A taste of my Dad’s liver and onions. I swear, I coulda kept going and going.

Would you like a loyalty card?
Dad says no. Of course. What do I say? Oh come on, you can guess.

I also enjoyed the wallpaper in the hotel the band’s (I did their logo!) playing at.

I felt just about right in what I was wearing, situationally (sweaterdresses + antiques = Just Right), but I think I’m gonna sew buttons around the inside of the hem and around the lower half of the neckline. I feel OK with a shorter skirt and a high neck, or a lower neckline and a longer skirt, but short and low (I know it’s not extreme. But it is for me! Especially with this long jacket warping perception) makes me feel a bit flashy. Dickies and faux-slips, from now on!

I took some video on the way home. The light was so beautiful, and the countryside really should be seen and appreciated! Good editing practice, too. Which reminds me! Can I get some volunteers to give me constructive criticism on a video? It would be really, really useful!

I’m still adding the new comments format! But I’ve figured out a way to keep them off the front page. Click the title, or normal “comment” button, and see!

Learning by Doing is excellent; today at work I learnt about twenty things about website fiddling and coding by being thrown in at the deep end, finished a marketing video and started reading Tank Girl: Armadillo. I’m only.. let me check.. seven pages of preface/story in (I spent all my breaks doing extra learnin’! I have all these ideas I need to be able to include!) but I have laughed and YEUHH’d and thought “Hmm, I might wear that”. I won’t say more! Let’s keep the spoilers for the SPOILERS post!

Gonna have a quiet evening of horror illustration, working on a logo for my beloved, and having another strike at Rachel’s tattoo. And watching Martial Law.

Unrelated tangent: I decided to start buying summery-appropriate clothes. So I have something to wear when it isn’t chilly chilly.. I’m just so picky. So far I have my eye on a Jane Marple (of course) skirt and Gogol Bordello ‘track shorts’, and I cut the arms off my too-big and previously unflattering Misfits pumpkin tee.. Anyone got any suggestions?? I like layers and structure! So not summer-ideal!

Trying out this new, extra comments format since people’ve mentioned they’ve had trouble with the built-in form.. :O

Four whole pictures. Because I say so!

These next two, see, I find interesting. Because if you could see the expressions I have under the pixels you’d know they were completely different to the ones that I drew. But the ones I drew look like they might be similar, don’t you think?

Listening to (hence double mus-tash whammy):

Gonna be talking about ART this next week. I just found out that one of my favourite artists is the son in law of another of my favourite artists, to whom my mum compared some of my stylings (best compliment in memory, possibly). And after I cook these blueberry muffins, I’ma start reading Tank Girl: Armadillo for SPOILERS v.3.THE FUTURE! IT GLISTENS!