The Mike Says...
Monday the 16th of June 2008
After much moshing to Coal Chamber in my lovely, yet rusted, 96’ Pontiac, I have finally reached my sister’s home in Fort Worth. Wiping the blood from the dash board and my forehead, I asked Poet to call Jodi and make sure we were at her house. While she did that, I just walked into the home. Luck was with me, Jodi was behind the door. Glee.

I have this strange tendency to create and abandon, I realize. I created my forum with the intent to change something about it once every month, and low…my computer died. I miss my computer, never more so than while I sit here in front of my Sister’s Awesome GTX model of Dell-Packard-Alien-Flatron-Compaq (Fun: one of those is not a desktop manufacture. Can you kids at home tell which one?)

The point is I traveled 88.25 miles down I35 sit here and truly, truly miss my lovely Durandal (the computer I did my art on). I miss the smooth action of Windows 2000 kicking an illegal art program into gear and ripping screens apart with my tablet as if injecting a NOS canister of oily black evil through the Input/Output of Durandal’s Northbridge chipset. Alas, since the chipset burned like a witch after a Salem trial, tears of despair that could only droop from the eyes of a painter who broke his favorite brush flow like twin waterfalls from my cartoonishly distraught face. Like Pedro of Excel Saga, I scream from the bottom of my heart and with all my might “NOOOOoooooo!”

Now, the forum just seems like an unreachable canvas, despite my somewhat limited ability to change it. I hardly wander the misty halls of Natchian Manor, gazing longingly at the GIFs and JPGs I can no longer alter to my liking as easily of yester-morrow (whatever that means). A sad tear slides down my face, remembrance of an Indian looking at the littered fields near commercial highways in the 70’s. I point at the snowy pages of the manor and say “I used to paint that.” And sniff back sad soggy snot into my porous honker.

But, I’m older now. I pay the bills. I search frantically for a new $1000 dollar paint brush >.> waiting for my stimulus, either to build my own monster, or Dude, I’ll get a Dell. Anything without Vista and I’ll be fine.

What I’m trying to say is Natch is suffering from both a fearful lack of creativity brought on by the scared thought that I just can’t make it look as good as I used to AND a lack of tools. My resolve is strong, but still the dreams come.

“In my restless dreams, I see that town.
Spring Hill”

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