I can’t help myself. No matter how serious the scene, the jester has to be in there someplace.
Kit-Fox DID use to grab a cup of nearly-finished tea and gobble-lick it like that. He was so weird.
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Archive for ‘The Desert Peach #25’
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Many of the smaller kingdoms of eastern Europe had German nobility, or at least German-blooded nobility.
The stretchy, stupid dead is more like the conception of the vampire in the east. You’ve probably seen the staggering, idiot vampires in Chinese movies. Dead = stupid. More like what we see in zombies. Although zombies aren’t dead, and aren’t a myth — they’re just a family’s way of taking care of obnoxious relatives with drugs and rustication. Which may be why there are so many of them in literature, right now.
Kit-Fox I’d lost recently. This is the most immortality we can get. Maybe.
Dracula, or at least the literary version of the stories, wasn’t known in Romania until recently. At Pfirsich’s time, not everybody could get ahold of a translation from the English.
I’ve never read a German version, but considering the German publishing world is very quick to jump on a publishing success — witness how well they treated Hemingway and Twain — there are probably some nice translations out there.
I can’t help myself. Sooner or later, it’s going to be funny.
These pages were about beautiful art and… I don’t know. They did what they did. I wasn’t doing anything but letting them flow.
This was one of those self-imposed drawing challenges: make all the little lines without using a ruler. Looked more like a woodcut that way.
Brüderlein is my favorite Grimm’s tale.
When you’re a teenager, it’s fun to feel sorry for yourself.
Remember?
I’ve realized recently I’ve seen — and continue to see — the reasons people believe in shapeshifters, giant sacred birds, trickster spirits, and moving otherworldly islands.
Mostly it has to do with what our brains do to process the real information we get.
Or brain damage. I’ve got brain damage, and I’ve seen thingies all my life. When some kid gushes, “My mommy sees angels now!”, all I can think is, “And how long has she been out of the hospital?
I do believe in ghosts and spirits, but only because other people see them the same moment I do, or hear them crying in the attic. I’m not claiming anything for the hopping horned toads under the sofa or the giant wing fluttering down the hallway…
No, I am not trying to project any messages or ideas or morals or mythologies. I’m writing what I’m told to write, drawing what I’m told to draw. That’s all.
