Things have been a little bit spotty around here for the past month or so. Due to a change in circumstances I’ve moved servers again. Loading times have taken a hit since we’re not in Australia anymore, but on a purely personal level I just really hate Jeff Bezos as an individual and it seemed fundamentally wrong to continue utilizing AWS as a direct result of this deeply subjective vendetta.*
That and I wanted full unsupervised access to things I will definitely break. Being an adult is utterly destroying something and having nobody to blame but yourself, after all.
Some time ago I begrudgingly began rebuilding the Asylum for better responsiveness on mobile devices, since that’s the way the way people are currently headed despite my best efforts to discourage them.
Unfortunately, aside from telephones, I was also deeply resentful of all my hobbies at that time and wound up pushing the project aside.
Thanks for checking in, I know it’s been a while, the December meltdown hit right on schedule and was an absolutely devastating ride I did not want to be on.
Met my neighbour right in the middle of it too, poor dude definitely thinks I’m a fucking weirdo now. Like, he’s not wrong exactly, but still. Kind of a shame; he has what looks to be a pretty sweet gaming set up and a more socially competent person probably could’ve initiated some better small talk with that.
Hopefully 2019 will be better but it’s still summer and I’m still a ghost.
Kicking this off with a quick note that my Fur Affinity and Google+ accounts have been deleted as they were no longer in use and hadn’t been for… quite some time.
female-presenting nipples,”– tumblr.com
The addresses for my main eMail,
Twitter, and Tumblr accounts have also been updated in a vague attempt to manage a more consistent online identity; although Tumblr have recently banned adult content and a big part of my initial interest in that cesspit of a hellsite was their general lack of censorship. Now that “Female Presenting Nipples“(?!) are illegal it’s pretty much on the same level as Facebook or Instagram so may not be worth maintaining much longer.
When you attempt to use inclusive language to uphold conservative double standards.
Despite the less then ideal condition my right arm currently finds itself in, I have managed to complete both Sketchtember and Inktober for 2018 thanks to a mostly functional left (last year I burned out after 26 and 19 days respectively, though RSI wasn’t the sole deciding factor, it certainly played its part).
Didn’t use prompts this time around figuring it’d be less stressful to just churn out whatever without thinking too hard about it.
Feel free to check out the works in the Gallery, or in their respective folders on Facebook if you don’t feel like hunting around.
Actually I haven’t even finished uploading Inktober here yet, so…
Inktober 2018 | Day 30
Recently I have captured what is, beyond any reasonable doubt, the greatest photograph I have ever taken and will ever take:
she does not protec
she does not atac
she constantly screm for additional snacc
From here on out any continued attempt at existence on my part is a mere formality as i passively await Death’s tender embrace.
Time to finish this months overdue trilogy of trouble. Why has it taken so long? Well friends, you see, I have zero time management skills and even less motivation!
To recap: this heinously outdated write-up concerns the Odlaw costume I revisited last New Year for a Where’s Wally? themed party.
Spats (or spatterdashes) are a type of footwear which is not unpopular in the steampunk scene, but otherwise went out of fashion in the early 20th century for reasons which are currently beyond me, I mean, they serve a practical purpose, y’know? Keeps the mud off your shoes. Not that I go outside frequently enough to get muddy shoes in the first place but I think we can all agree that it’s fun to accessorise regardless.
All us overdressed villains, that is!
Despite developing shingles on top of my regularly scheduled December meltdown, my barely functional ass sat itself down having decided it was as good a time as any to make a real actual attempt at learning to crochet properly despite all previous yarn-craft efforts being catastrophic failures.
The previous failure being crocheted directly into the next as some kind of fucked up hat-based Ouroboros.
Not that my anxiety game is so powerful it can reactivate chickenpox, but guess who’s got shingles?!
Hint: It’s me. I do.
Further proof that I actually am an elderly man.
“Why are you joking about this? Shingles can be really serious you know!”
Because I lack the appropriate emotional responses for any given situation. Next question.