wii wheel

I was boarding at the kitchen table on Sunday while my two girls were playing Mario Cart on the Wii, completely naked and fancy free. It was one of those moments in parenthood where you witness your offspring in deep deep play. Remember those kid days full of mental wanderings? Time would fly and space would disappear as you lost yourself in the activity of having fun. In the nude.
Tossed off this quick sketch to capture the moment.

This new fandangled wii is the best kid toy since the gun shaped stick.

I hope those two kids of mine enjoyed it...because come Tuesday morning they're marching their little kid feet to the battery factory where their juvenile fingers are the perfect size to pack radioactive goo into the glossy off brand casings. That's the only way their Daddy can maintain his diesel sniffing habit.

In the nude.

Signed,
Nitsirk the Warrior Duke.

SPORTS!

I've been a lazy blogger so here's some rough story doodles.

On a side note...been busy at work, raising two kids, and playing old man softball once a week. Can't say all those years between pee wee hardball and the beer league have added anything to my game. I have always, and will probably always, suck at sports. I can't even explain it. My brothers are both athletic. My ol' pa used to coach baseball and he was known to run the bases for the Delaware Diamonds...but genetically I just didn't develop any competitive talent.
Hear ye though, non believers and nay sayers...those flashes from the past that haunt me at night with looks of disappointment and waneful disgust in regards to dropped balls through thirty two years of inefficient sport play...I shan't withdraw and will continue forward to harrow my life's field with humble athletic furrows of infertile dreams. I will not back down. I will not quit. I will not surrender. I will continue to drop balls and allow my frustration to grow inside me like soul cancer, organic and free of pride.
By the way, my wife is quite seriously obsessed with her Karate and while it seems like a foregone cliche that when somebody says to you, "ok, come at me like this" and you do and they hurt you, it would be smarter to stop coming at people like this when they ask you to. There are no peanuts at the ends of those tunnels. Nobody wins. My children don't benefit when I sob with pain. That is not the picture of manhood that I imagined passing on to them when my wife demanded use of my reproductive plumbing and made me wear cold underpants and drink too many smoothies from Jamba Juice. Effing Jamba Juice with their "manly" boost...it does NOTHING (note lack of hair on flabby chest).
Whining about sports...this should add something to my robust humility. I'm just glad I work in a job full of validation and kindly support. Animation.

All kidding aside...softball is fun...I really like the people....and I always appreciate it when Aimee breaks one of my fingers...after ten years of marriage I'll take any kind of affection....Sports! Sports! Sports! Yayyyyyyy SPORTS!


****UPDATE***: Just finished this weeks game and my team, "When Pigs Fly" took a heartbreaking loss of 35 to 6 (I lost count so I made up their number). Only dropped a couple of balls. Went for a double and a single. Hooorah! Two more games left. GO PIGS!

Cheers.

When the blind follow the blind, Y'all walk off the cliff together. Well, I'm teaching again so I suppose I'm looking fer some good ol blind folk to give me a shove. It is a strange bedfellow, the idea of teaching a messy subject such as story. I can't really claim to be a master, pro, or even semi-pro at this gig... more of a survivor. I've been at it for ten years now (hard to believe...been hitched for just as long...Lawdy Lawdy), and I've had many ups and downs trying to tell stories in this fickle business. But what I really love, and have always loved, is the pure energy that comes from working the job and exploring ideas. It is from this approach that I've always really gotten a jazz (that's right... A JAZZ)from teaching. I've done it in the past (brick and mortar style) and think I was ok at not messing up anyone's hopes or dreams. I've always looked back fondly at those who mentored me in such a way as to let me have my opinions and gave me the room to discover my own voice. Sometimes I was lazy and these teachers would kick my ass...sometimes I was cocky and they'd take me down a peg...sometimes I was discouraged and they helped me dust off...I think it is the human side of the job that makes it important and worth doing. There is no "right" or "wrong" way to break story...there are mechanics and techniques that bring craft and focus to the job, but for me, story is all about communicating ideas. The trick is honing in on the idea worth telling, and then figuring out how to get that idea out there without getting it all bloated and gooey. Ain't nothing worse than a good idea that was dropped under the fridge and matted with old cat hair. So the class will deal with mechanics and break down the fundamentals of story structure, but the meat will be the conversations that come from going back and forth from the assignments that will hopefully generate strong ideas. I don't think I'm completely full of crap (83% crap to be precise), but I've had my share of successes and failures and I'm willing to pass on what I knows.


Check out all the great stuff they've got going on over there at Schoolism. I am truly intimidated at the wealth of brilliance they have teaching the other classes... it is humbling to be in such incredible company. Mr. Chiu and Mr. Silver are old friends that have really built up the foundation for this enterprise.

I'm great at spillin', lousy at pluggin'. spa-tooon.

Cheers,
Kris.

Down by the bay...

"In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king".
a line from Singapore, by Tom Waits.

Always makes me think of the animation business.
Hey I only have one eye...one eye that works good anyway. I ain't king of shit. Where is this land o the blind. Its good to be king...so I've been told. Of course, the higher one rises, the harder one falls. We'll see.

I'll stay a one eyed grunt for the time being. Better to eat crumbs and survive. Here, here, to all ye kindly rodents in the dark wet holes of the earth. Be ye muskrat, mouse or beaver, ye be kin. Smile and chew your wood and don't complain when your gums bleed...a little wet salt softens the stump. Yummy.

Thanks Mr. Waits for the muse. Buy "Rain Dogs" if you like good things. It is a good thing to put in your ears.

Hope all is well in the land of the blog.
Signed,
Cris Perrin of the provincial lot, 3B, Longwoods way around Iroquois Shore, behind the Black Oak, third house on the left. Where the wild cheese grows.

Doodle pooh

I had to doodle at work today to test out a new digital pipeline. Scribbled out this pile of crud, but since I haven't posted in a very long time I figured it was better than nothing.

Can you help me with a conundrum?


I have a six pound cat that kicks the shit out of my eighty pound German Shepherd, and an eighty pound German Shepherd who often beats the tar out of a two hundred pound walleyed white guy who likes to torment her by blowing into her body holes (mostly the ears and nostrils, but it all depends on the mood and how much beer is in the fridge). So, my philosophical question...If you get beaten by a smaller animal who gets beaten by an even smaller animal, do you still have to fight the smallest animal or is it honorable to just say they both kicked your ass?

If I was a Roman Athiest, my worst fear would be a public mauling in the arena by house cats. Far slower and more humiliating than a Lion any day. They have raspy little tongues. Horrible. I feel sorry for any of you out there who put any trust in the loyalty of a cat. Fools. Might as well elect an Alien to be King of Earth. That's just what this planet needs, a new King. Perhaps a marsupial...like Peter Jackson?

kristin.

The New Kid

I was hanging out with my kids on Sunday playing some drawing games (we do this when they aren't training to become lethal killing machines poised to resist as warrior soldiers on the front lines of a rebellion for freedom from the massive corporations that will someday seize control of our Western Democracy! F-You Jiffy Lube!), and another dragon scibble pooped out. I slapped it with some regular old kid paint (the kind you buy at the Dollar Store. F-You Dollar Store!). A moment in time, never to repeat. La dee da!

Hope all is well out there in the big wide world.
Cheers,
Kris.

Happy New Year!

It's 2008 and I can't say I really feel all that different. I guess its another year further away from my childhood, which is a drag. I had a great Holiday break though. Mama Sony gave us all three days off so I got to spend a good week with my wife and kids...and you know what...clear of all the stress and work crap I think I actually still kind of LIKE my family! No shit...and I have this sinking suspicion that they may LIKE me aswell. Who knew. Makes me wonder why we bother getting all stressed out. I'd make a resolution to avoid all conflict and worry in 2008, but I think I would just get really worried about not getting worried and I'm sure I would blow the crud out of that resolution in the first week and find some way to blame my little girls for causing me to fret for the sake of a lousy test score, messy rooms, toilets clogged with Princess Lego, or the violation of my seventy pound manly dog with bubble gum sparkly lip stick...AND how can I not worry about my lovely wife and her constant need for attention and eye contact and conversation ....sheeesh....so much pressure. And work....WORK....I mean it's not like I'm marching off into a cole mine or I have to get up at four in the morning to put my arm into a cow's vagina to deliver a breach calf (the life I wanted when I was a kid...read James Herriot....It always makes me miss the smell of Bovine)...But somehow...that worry still creeps in. I guess that's life. Maybe my resolution is to not to worry about worry and just let the worry happen when it wants to happen and try not to worry about it. That, and of course, to stop being fat. Learn to like Rush because they're Canadian, and for some reason that matters. Eat organic. Read Chaucer. And try not to die.

Done and done. Well here are some more color sketches I worked on over the break. Almost through my first color sweep of this darn book! Hopefully have it finished up by Summer (2018). Anybody got any advice on where to find a good font?
Cheers,
Kris.