| Daedalus Blue
| A Dream Dressed in Chains
| Colin the Brick
| Beaver and Steve
Peanut butter is awesome
Greets to the peeps. Regular customers have been seeing a lot of this
guy recently, so I guess I'd do well to explain who the hell he is.
He's the main character of my yet-to-be-properly-started comic, a
reluctant anti-hero, blahahedly blah blah blah, you get the picture, I'll tell the story sooner or later. If recent performances are anything to go by, it'll be a lot later.
Anyway, talking of recent events (see that link? Seamless I tell you.),
it seems that my rant about degrees was well received (at least by my
delightful girlfriend, anyway) -so I'm gonna extend my remit; I'll do
text-based requests as well as the usual visual ones. E.g.
Average person reading HMF's blog: "What do you mean by 'text-based requests'?"
HMF: "I'm glad you asked, even
if you're really only here on your way to the erudite baboon's blog. If
you examine the post below, you'll note that it is really just an
excuse for me to take the piss out of Socialology students, but it's
framed in a lovely little story. Which means people find it less
offensive, and hell, some folks even find it entertaining."
Average person reading HMF's blog: "And
while I may only still be here because I'm waiting for the latest
Beaver and steve, I'd still like to know how this pertains to requests?"
HMF: "Well, think of it as a formula that can be applied to any topic or subject:
(Subject x HMF's fevered imagination )
) x peanut butter
= Story about a lavish dinner party in which the revelation that you
took a socialology degree causes aristrocrats to drop monicles in
disgust, resulting in you living a life of solitude on a remote island.
"It's all very simple really. Just substitute the subject for any topic
and the peanut butter for anything that is scientifically proven to be awesome."
Average person reading HMF's blog
backs away slowly avoiding eye contact, never to return. This leaves
HMF alone to ponder what went so terribly wrong in a past life. Balance
is restored to the universe.
That about wraps it up for tonight. *Columbo moment* Just one
more thing, it appears that I haven't recieved any sweeties in ages,
are the social studies kids hogging them all?
Leaf it alone...
As requested be Sammyface. If you haven't already, check out her blog,
though the less said about "saucy-Friday" the better. We'll have none
of that smut here. Mostly 'cos I wouldn't be very good at it.
Unless I'm very much mistaken, I'm back to doing requests again. And while I can't promise that I'll be prompt, or indeed, particularily artistic, I can promise that I might do your request. Possibly.
'Tis "franic-rush-to-apply-to-uni" month at sixth form, so its time to
get my metaphorical house in order. Looks like I'm gonna do a degree in
Biochemistry, if you're interested. Why? Apart from frivolities like it
being something I'm good at, and a desirable degree, it is (far more
importantly) very impressive sounding...
Picture, if you will, a lavish dinner
party. Golden drapes adorn a majestic hall, immaculate waiters glide to
and fro, champange evporvessing in crystal flutes being handed out like
empty-promises at a polictical rally. Elegant and beautiful women
saunter around in dresses that probably cost more to buy than your
average third-world country spends on arms, before daintily taking
their places among stuanch and dashing gentlemen at the dinner table.
You note the high incidence of handlebar mustaches -this is a very
high-soceity shin-dig indeed, if it was any more high-society; the
guests would be on stilts. The bandinage is flowing freely, before the
conversation turns to talk of university:
Earl of Withersthorpe: "So my lad [Or lass, we're all about equal opportunities here], what stimulating subject had you up to your garters in books, in your student days?"
You break eye-contact, pausing to mop
your brow. Fear presses down on your shoulders, you make a prayer to
your respective god(s), you've been dreading this moment all evening.
You: "I, err, majored in *cough* sociology..."
You realise your mistake, eyes bulge,
handlebar mustaches droop, the Earl of Withersthorpe's monacle pummets
from his eye, he stops drinking the fine champange -his fingers no
longer grip the glass. His half-filled jaw involuentaily expels the
remaining liquid in abject disgust. You feel like a puppy that's just
soiled the persian rug. The Earl pushes himself to his feet, his lip
Earl of Witherthorpe: "Get out of my house! Never darken my door my door again with your cretinous ways! OUT! Before I release the hounds!"
And so you run. Never to return, you
live your life alone, eating nuts and berries on a craggy island off
the coast of Ireland. You spend your life wondering how it could have
been so different...
Earl of Withersthorpe: "So my lad [Or lass, if you're still reading], what stimulating subject had you up to your garters in books, in your student days?"
You smile, this has been the ace up
your sleeve all evening. You may have wooed countless willing suitors
with tales of your bravery and compassion during this party, but it is
on your next choice words that your future in circles such as these
You: "Well, my good sir, I took a three year course in Biochemisty. And most enlightening it was too, many thanks for your inquiry."
Earl of Witherthorpe: "Don't mention it my boy, it sounds very impressive. Have another Ferro Roche..."
I think I have proved my point. That or I've just revealled that I'm an
elitist bastard. I apoligise to an socialiogy students, I'm glad you
took the time out of your employment at McDonalds to read this.
No, seriously, I'm sorry.
Some more of this...
I must admit, I'm a little troubled. No not "the-badgers-are-stealing-my-cupcakes
troubled". it's just that this blog doesn't appear to have any
direction, no raison de etre, if you will. Perhaps I've lost the core
values that underpin this little corner of the internet, my
little corner of the internet. So rather than pack it in (what else
would I do instead of coursework?) I'm gonna outline what this blog is
The comic thing that is slowly materialising is a given,
I also do requests, so ask me to draw something, and I'll draw it.
Though my interepritations can often be a little abstract. I also note
that some people have already asked me to do some things, if
you'd be so kind as to as me what it is that you wanted, I'll get right
on it. I've got a short attention span, see.
If you're new around these parts (lets face it, I'm just happy if you
are around these parts every now and then), feel free to ask me about
which blogs you should be reading, 'cos they're gonna be better than
Oh, and while I remember, the some of you found those "reasons for not
drawing a comic this week" quite funny, remind me to do it: and it will
That will be all, I'm sorry I don't leave many inappropriate comments
on your blogs any more -I've got to at least pretend I'm doing some
Back to this one again?
Yes, a return to this particular comic idea. Even something that isn't
exactly Rembrant such as this takes a fairly long time, I think I'll
forgo the rant about working with pencils today. I'm going to have to
seriously think about two things: how to draw hands (something I've
just about cracked) and how to draw faces (something that I've only
ever got right about two times). I'll get back to you on that last one.
Ah well. More bad poetry to pad out the blog a bit:
I never claimed to be better than you,
I never said I was without sin,
But when you bite the hands that feed you,
My patience wears so thin.
What was done to you long ago,
To make you this way?
Whatever could have blinded you so,
To make your world turn to grey?
It is all that I can manage,
To keep myself at bay,
When I slowly realise;
I am the only one of us who thinks about what you say.
I am not better than you,
My words can cut staight to the bone,
So I curse you for showing me,
How I may end up just like you:
Give me a motive,
Give me a question,
Give me an alibi,
Give me a suggestion.
Take my welcome,
Take my rhyme,
Take my hand,
Take my time.
Take what you can,
Give what you must,
I'll take nothing from you,
'Til you give me your trust.
Yes, I'm messing about lyrically again. I'm bored, ok? Don't worry, I'm
not directing this at anyone, just seeing if I can write a few words
with no prior thought. It appears I just about can.
More amazing adventures
Indeed it appears that I've reached that excting "3rd panel", while
other comic artists celebrate completeing their hundreth strip, I find
satisfaction with getting a front page done. I'm a lazy sod, see.
In the interests of my new "actually blog a bit" policy, I guess I'm
gonna have to think of something worthwhile to say. Well, my internal
monologue seemed to fill space last time, so I'll set it loose for a
HMF finds himself staring anxiously
at the phone. He can't help it, despite being one of the most laid back
individuals on the planet, evolve's latest
entry has him worried. Not that he wasn't informed of his girlfriend's
undeserved pain before this. Turning his attention to the blank screen
staring him coldly in the face he settles down to type. It's not long,
however, before he finds himself distracted...
HMF: "Back to this again is it?"
Interviewer: "'Fraid so."
HMF: "Reckon this'll work a second time? It was a little tenuious even then."
Interviewer: "I'm not taking responsibility for it, I'm just a figment of your fevered imagination."
HMF: "You make a point. So why
am I here again? Aside from the obvious blog-filling, what matter is
deserving of the analysis of my internal monologue once more?"
Interviewer: "Well, just a
couple of issuses, really. You appear to be worrying again. Since this
is a less than annual occurance for you, I felt it important to
HMF: "As you're technically me,
you mean I felt it was needed that I mess with myself? I'm a meddling
bastard if there ever was one."
Interviewer: "Hell, it's cheaper than therapy."
HMF: "I'll think you'll find people go to see shrinks to stop talking to themselves..."
Interviewer: "Back to the matter in hand, if you please."
HMF: "Since I asked myself so
nicely, I spose I'll get on with it. Yes I'm worried about the
girlfriend, I guess I'll just have to make sure she's happy, as best I
Interviewer: "Excellent, just like real therapy, only without the niggling feeling that the therapist is secretly laughing at you."
HMF: "Erm, we've never been to therapy, internal monologue."
Interviewer: "Ahh, right, good point. Should we just get back to mocking "the X-factor" viewers, then?"
HMF: "They're pitiful enough as it is."
Interviewer: "Good point."
Randomness terminates at 10:40 pm GMT
Gringos Part III (+the longest post in the world, ever)
Yeah, I'm still playing around with comic technique; once I deem myself
good enough I'll be a little more focused -and I'll do that comic I
regularly remind you of.
Edit: Right, I've noticed that posts seem to consist of: "Here's a
random sketch containing an in-joke you won't understand unless you
know me. Goodbye." Which is all well and good, but it doesn't give the
blog-reading public (whom aren't aware of my various idosicrasies that
could make my comics funny to someone in some manner) much to go on.
Which is probably why no one reads this corner of 20six very often.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not offended, it goes to prove that people have
got better things to do other than read my innane ramblings. Though my
faith in humanity is often dashed when I realise just what people will
spend their valuable time doing, Neighbours fans, I'm looking at you.
Both of you.
Hmm, all this hypocracy and judgementalism appears to be indicative of
a return to form for me then. I wonder if there are any ivory towers
for sale nearby within my budget? (what do you mean you don't get the
metaphor? Ahh, go look it up. Just don't come to me asking what a
So why haven't I posted much more than the aforementioned minimalistic
texts? Not sure. Maybe a spot of self-analysis is in order then? Let
the metaphorical interrogation begin!
HMF awakes slumped at a desk, a
bright angle-poise lamp is being shone in his eyes. Shielding his
retinas from the glare, he notices the dark outline of an imposing
figure leaning over him.
HMF: "Who are you?"
Interviewer: "I'm your
interogator, you should know; this is your hypothetical way of
abstractly exploring your lack of cohesive blogging."
HMF: "Where are we?"
Interviewer: "Again, non-literal abstract representation. Who's asking the questions here, anyway?"
HMF: "Sorry. So whats the deal? Are we trying to alienate the last of our readers with high-brow, self-edifying silliness?"
Interviewer: "Quite. First question: what have you got to do that's more important than blogging?"
HMF: "If the length of this
post is anything to go by, not a lot. But seriously I've had a lot to
do recently, coursework and such."
Interviewer: "Is that all?"
HMF: "Well, there's the
girlfriend, who's delightful company is infintely preferable to sitting
at a computer screen slowing damaging my eyesight. Talking of which,
can you shine that light somewhere else?"
Interviewer: "Why should you care? It's hypothetical anyway."
HMF: "Good point."
Interviewer: "So how do you
feel about the fact that you are essentially talking to yourself in
front of an audience that is basically the entire internet?"
HMF: "At least I don't watch 'X-factor', I've got some dignity."
Interviewer: "Good point."
Interview terminates at 5:57 pm.
Well, I don't think I learnt anything there, maybe you should take the
time out of your busy life to ask yourself some questions? Just don't
do it in public. Or on the internet.