Wednesday, April 26, 2006

   Renewal of Confidence...
You know, I'd seen 10 episodes of Saiyuki Reload Gunlock, and I had completely given up on it. The art was terrible and the story deviated vastly from the manga. If you haven't guessed yet, Minekura's manga is the Only Real Gensoumaden Saiyuki as far as I'm concerned. I have reasons for this, but that's fuel for another rant.

Anyway, back to Gunlock: Episode 12.

Art: Pretty - and actually a return to Minekura's style, instead of the cheap, blocky mess they'd been relying on since Reload. Story: So far, picking right back up with the "Snow Drop" Chapters from the manga. A lot of the shots are just reworks of manga panels, which is what I wish they'd done for the rest of the bloody thing.

The point:It's only one kitten's opinion, but I honestly believe that the reason the first Saiyuki anime series did so well was because they just took frames from Minekura's story and added movement - and removed the blood-and-guts and certain elements of plot that might have offended... uh, anyone who didn't have a strong stomach - little things like what Kanan (Hakkai's girlfriend) really was, and little hints about Kanzeon Bosatsu. (Though I'm told this actually has some basis in Buddhist mythology.)

Oh, and that little thing about, Hakkai's Eye. I'm not squeemish, but that made me cringe, so I can see why they'd 'adjust' that in the anime.

But none of these things were absolutely essential to the plot, or even the character-development. Hakkai remains a sinner, Bosatsu is still creepy, and... uh, yeah: Hakkai's still a sinner.

The whole thing lost ratings and tanked when they deviated from the story: little screwed-up side arcs, Homura (yeargh.) et al., and the rest of the 'add-ons' they filled space with.

So, all in all: Want to make a good anime out of a phenomenal manga by a complete genius?
Stick to the bloody script!

Thank you.
=^..^=

I'm loving that Photobucket account
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Sunday, April 23, 2006

   Look under the bed, will you?
I've had Underground by David Bowie (Why the heck did I link that? You know who David Bowie is...) stuck in my head for 3 days.

It all started when I finally ripped the Labyrinth Soundtrack that I've had since... uh, since the movie came out, and hair that big was Cool.

...shoot. I'm getting old.

Anyway. It's there. It's going to kill me. I am going to die of Infectious Tune.

=^x.x^=
the fairies are coming to get me... which gives me an idea for another fic... an idea I'm going to crush the life out of now... before you come and hurt me...
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Thursday, April 20, 2006

   When Chibis Attack! Part 33
Past chapters are over here.

Part 33: In Which There is Treatment

In comparison, I suppose I'm somewhat used to chibi behavior by now - unlike the receptionist. She's huddled down behind her desk looking like someone having their first Chibi Encounter: that is to say, a little stressed.

"I warned you they were made of teeth," I mumble and hunker down beside her.



Survey the carnage: Goku must have savaged the snack machine and the candy bowl, resulting in the candy-maddened level of Seiten Taisei Sugar Goku. Sanzo is administering the appropriate level of beating for this kind of behavior.

Gojyo is taking advantage of the confusion to move in on the receptionist. He's down beside her on the floor, one arm around her, or at least as much of her as his little arm can handle.

"Just take it easy, doll. You know, a hug would probably make you feel a lot better..."

"They're not real. They're not real. They're not..." Head in her hands, rocking back and forth like that, a hug probably wouldn't quite do the trick.




Sigh.




"I tried that," In my own way, though not the rocking part, admittedly. "It doesn't work. They just get more and more in-your-face until you can't ignore them anymore."

"You!" Her wild eyes turn on me and lock, desperate for something believable to focus on. "You did this!"

Look around at the candy-coated, fan-smacking mess.

"I'm not that creative." Or energetic.

"But! But they're your..."

"Hey!" Gojyo pipes up, climbing on to her knees. "I may have come with her, but I don't have to go home with her, if you know what I mean?"



Gojyo's leer meets her horrified stare, and-

Sanzo's fan hits Goku with remarkable precision and force, sending him flying through the air. He ricochets off a pile of papers, directly into Gojyo. As the papers flutter down around us, the two concussed chibis stagger around, birds and stars (and hearts and flowers for some unknown reason) circling their heads. They finally collapse sideways, conveniently onto my lap.

The receptionist whimpers, and slumps against my shoulder, out cold.



Sanzo stands atop the desk, fan in hand and a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

"What are you looking so proud for?" Initiate Operation: Take Sanzo Down a Notch. "I'd be way more impressed if you'd knocked them out before they tore the place apart. Wait... are those cigarette butts? Have you been smoking in here?"

Operation: Buenas Notches fails, as Sanzo ignores my question entirely, instead parrying with an accusation of his own. "Screw that. The screaming started down your end. What the hell were you doing in there? Having a parade?"



As if he had been waiting for the cue, Hakkai appears, backing slowly down the hall while rattling a box of crayons.

Without Sanzo's mastery of question-avoiding skills, there's no choice but a straight answer: "Kougaiji doesn't like doctors, it seems."

"Why? Did you tell him he was getting a shot?"




Ironically, that does it. Kougaiji zooms down the hallway, past the reception, and out the door, leaving a con-trail of dust and paper behind him. Note the day and time for posterity: this may be Sanzo's first official miracle.

"Ah ha ha ha! Well done, Sanzo." Hakkai returns the crayons to the reception toy box, which is now empty of everything but those crayons. Its former contents are strewn about the room, no doubt having been used for various nefarious chibi purposes.

Sanzo snorts, in expression of his satisfaction with a job well done. His sinuses must be very pleased.



I can still hear Dr. Fraid whimpering from here. Now probably would not be a good time to ask for a prescription renewal. On the plus-side, now the government gun-men are the least of his worries.

And I've been fine so far without those pills. The rest of the planet might not be too happy about it, but I've been okay. Maybe it's all about damage control at this point, anyway.




Gently shift the receptionist onto a flotilla of papers. Gather up the unconscious lap dwellers.

"Come on. Let's go."

Hakkai stops trying to clean up, and his serious eyes gaze up at me in genuine concern. "But don't you need to see a doctor? What about your hallucinations?"

"It's okay, Hakkai." Hold the door open for people with little legs to pass. "As it turns out, you're probably real."

"Hmph." Sanzo marches imperiously past. "I could have told you that."

Thanks again, Dr. McSanzo. Your professional opinion is always appreciated.

Now, where was that liquor store?





It was right where I left it.

"I think you still have some rum in the fridge..." Hakkai mentions helpfully as I park. Kougaiji is hiding under the front seat, and he squeaks, 'No shot!' when anyone attempts to extract him. This gives me a rare opportunity to go out in public with the use of both arms. I intend to use it the best way I know how.

"You can never have too much rum." My most basic creed: my mission statement, if you will.




Enter the store to the ding-a-ling of doorbells.

God, I hate doorbells.

Doesn't matter what store you go into, they always keep the rum near the back. It's like they want you to re-think your options, as if the store is asking you, 'Do you really want rum? Would you perhaps prefer one of these less-efficient drunkinating beverages?'

No way, I say. Why complicate a simple process?




It's been a long day already, and it's still morning: Put a pair of bottles in a convenient basket. Head for the till.

Get the attention of the kid behind the counter, which is harder than one may expect. He would obviously like to quit his dead-end job, to devote more of his time to his true passion of TV-watching.

Unload basket.



Basket has mysteriously sprouted four six-packs of beer during my journey from the back wall to the till. Beer is a very inefficient drunkimifier: you have to pee far too often to build up the necessary alcohol levels. This seems wasteful, in my opinion.

Still, I'm not sure why, but I'm feeling oddly - generous?

After all, I'm no less sane than a guy with a medical degree, or his highly-trained office staff. Maybe a little saner; at least I didn't curl up in a ball and/or pass out when I met my first chibi.

But I don't think I'll put that on my resumé.




"How much are these?" Pass one of the six-packs to the kid, who scans it.

"Let's see..." He points at the screen. "Looks like they're on sale."

"Cheap booze!" My ankle rejoices audibly. Try to kick the flashes of red and yellow hair that bob just out of view. Succeed only in kicking myself.

"Uh... yes. They're very cheap." The Future Professional TV-Watcher is now looking at me more closely, as if to ask, 'Are you one of our regular drunks?' No, young sir, I am an entirely different drunk.

"Then I'll take two. You can put the rest back." My generosity is deflating along with my perceived sanity.

"But!" Gasps my ankle. The click of a cap-gun cocking is faintly heard.

"But what?" Asks the clerk.

"...but on second thought, forget it. I don't need them." Generosity exhausted by the threat of silly violence.

"Yaaargh! No!" My ankle cries out in grief.

"No?" The poor kid is now obviously confused, and a little flustered. Though, being so close to a psychiatrists office, you'd think he'd have more experience with this.

"No, I think two will just hit the spot!" Pipes my ankle in a ridiculous falsetto voice. "Thank you for your help, you man. What lovely eyes you - yrrk!"

Finally, a kick that connects.

Pay. Leave. Quickly.



Next Time: Monster Slaying! And birds...
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Wednesday, April 12, 2006

   When Chibis Attack! Part 32
Previous comical hijinks are here.

Part 32:In Which There is a Breakdown

The blond fern is sitting on a chair, a three-year-old copy of "Cat Fancy" balanced against its pot. The receptionist's piercing gaze passes over this odd plant behavior, and right bores into me.

"You haven't brought alcohol in with you, have you?" she demands.

Pat pockets: Wallet, keys, loose change... lint...

"Uh, no. But there's a store down the street if you're really desperate."

She laughs an icky laugh and walks off down the hall, no doubt in search of a tidy place to store a messy drunk.

Everyone thinks I'm so... comical, lately. Ha ha.




"Well!" The 14-inch tropical is obviously scandalized. It fiddles with its monocle and neatens the pamphlets. "She wasn't very hospitable. How are you supposed to get help for your hallucinations, when..."

"It comes from working with head-cases all the time." The blond fern interrupts. "I understand. Perfectly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The tea roses have taken offense at this statement, and are marching across the chairs purposefully when the receptionist returns.

"I have a room for you." She ushers me away quickly. "Just through here..."

The last thing I hear before the door closes is a familiar voice turning up the charm:

"So... do you have a room for me, sweet cheeks?"





What am I thinking? I just left her alone with them!

...fine. They can get cute with her, for a change. Who knows? It might cheer her up.

I feel oddly merciless today, as if all the mercy has drained from my body like the blood has drained from Kougaiji's favorite arm. I wonder why?

Maybe it's because I didn't bring any alcohol in with me.






Before my conscience has a chance to catch up with me, Dr. Albrect Fraid enters and starts asking difficult questions, like: "How are you?" and "Is your previous insurance still valid?"

It's all very cathartic.





"I see..." says Dr. Fraid, upon hearing a portion of my story. "Zee little people, zhey arrived a few days ago?"

I can't help thinking he'd make a good door-to-door Hug Doctor.

My conscience hits me like a brick wrapped in Judgment.

Oh bugger.





"Yes, and I left a few of them out with your..."

"Unt zen you made zis doll?" He seems fascinated with Kougaiji. What is it with people staring at him? Anyone would think he was... irresistibly cute, or something.

Kougaiji, on the other hand, is trying to sink back inside Mr. Jacket, and keeps making little growling noises that I hope are easily mistaken for the air-conditioning or my intestinal functions.

The Little Prince seems to have an intense fear of doctors. Can't think why, for the life of me.

"No, I didn't make... I mean, he thinks I..."

"Unt who is he supposed to be, zis cute little fellah?"

Kougaiji's eyes go the size of my fists as Dr. Fraid's fingers come towards him.





It all happens so fast. If I had to write a police report, I don't think I'd be able to do it.

First comes the finger-biting. Then the bleeding, and screaming, "Eet's aliiiiiiiive!" Then the Gremlin-leap out of my jacket, and the subsequent discovery that Kougaiji is surprisingly strong for his size.

Any size, really.

Oh, and then the realization that the ruckus outside the office is even louder than the fracas inside.




Hakkai's gentle, but insistent, knocking on the door gives my mind just one more opportunity not to come to terms with Kougaiji beating the stuffing out of a medical practitioner.

Open the door.

Hakkai has discarded his photosynthetic camouflage and is now wearing a somewhat nervous expression instead.

"Um... I'm terribly sorry, but... you see, Gojyo was... and then Sanzo shot the... I'm so sorry, but could you..." Sounds like he couldn't fill out the appropriate forms either, should an officer present them to him.




Well, at least I'm fairly sure they're real, now.

And they seem to need me.

So that's okay.

Yeah...





"I'll go see what I can do. Could you do something about Kougaiji?" Trading lunatics is fair.

Hakkai looks relieved, despite the obviously monumental task ahead of him: Dr. Fraid is on the floor in the fetal position, and Kougaiji is jumping up and down on him.

Proceeding down the hall, Hakkai's most coaxing voice echoes after me: "I have craaaaaaayons..."

I try very, very hard not to hear Kougaiji's squeaky little voice holler:

"An' stay away fwom my sister!"





It's all rather disturbing. I will probably need a stiff drink to help me get over the shock.



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Tuesday, April 11, 2006

   Well, that was... refreshing...
I just had the priviledge of being schooled by Sephiroth Kingdom Hearts II style.

I think I lasted 3 seconds.

Brisque!


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Sunday, April 9, 2006

   If I pause to think,
today I might remember an old friend...


We met in the dark, empty place
where dreams go to die.
You know the one,
stale smells and old ashes:
Something burned there, long ago,
but the flame's long since gone out.

We departed in the bright and shiny new,
plastic wrapped and smelling tightly sealed,
inhumane in its sanitary nature.

To us, then:
the dearly departed.
The journeys we've undertaken
since we left ourselves behind,
You could write a book.
I could write one about you.
Maybe I have, and I just don't want to let on...

But if I stop to think,
I still smell the old ashes beneath the plastic wrap,
I still hear the creak of wood,
when metal ought to ring clean.
The old, dead dreams still feel more comfortable
than this breathless afterlife
tight-wound and tuned and polished
utterly...



Just an Intermission: Now I'll go back to the game...
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Wednesday, March 29, 2006

   Mummy wuvs you...
Just got home. Have Kingdom Hearts II. Expect no posts for the next... uh... until I get to Sephiroth.

Gotta go!
=^o.O^=
spazz!
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Sunday, March 26, 2006

   Odd things... and even odds...
I finally bit the electronic bullet and got a photobucket account. That means that if anyone wants to see my source material for a wallpaper or the original frame for a manga panel I've colored, you can ask and I will post.

I hate change, but hopefully this will be a good thing... and it might be a little enlightening for some to see exactly how much I've changed some of these images.

So, nya.

Nya nya nya!
=^o.O^=

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Thursday, March 23, 2006

   And just so you know I haven't given up...
Here's Gojyo.

But I'm afraid coloring Sanzo's bellybutton is taking longer than I expected. I might post it next... week? Month?

Argh.

In the meantime, this was much easier to color.

Nyargh.
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Wednesday, March 22, 2006

   When Chibis Attack! Part 31
Previous silliness archived here.

Snow White does not belong to me... it belongs to the Brothers Grimm, and the people they originally stole it from. I am not responsible for the Macarena. Thank God. And I didn't invent Pictionary, or authorize any pictures that Gojyo may have drawn.

In other words, I don't own it, and it's not my fault.

Part 31: In Which There is a Trip

Gaze out the front window at the ominously sunny day. Pink clouds float threateningly against the suspiciously blue sky. A bird is singing.

Kougaiji is watching it. I wonder if he wants to play with it, throw sparkles at it or eat it.

I need a drink.

I'm leaving early, dammit. It's only polite to be early for appointments, right? And maybe I'll surprise that receptionist with my responsible behavior, show her I'm not a total drunk. Or something.

...I need a drink.





All the chibis are back at the kitchen table amusing themselves, but it feels as though I'm under surveillance. I'm sure they've got a betting pool going for when I'll drink. I wonder who has money on me breaking down and getting Hakkai to drive me there?

Judging by Goku's crash helmet, the odds must be pretty good.





"Anyway..." Interrupt their machinations momentarily. "I have to go downtown to get some pills." They know this. I know this. We have established common ground. Now, to drop the bomb: "You should stay here."

A surprising lack of explosion: By actually speaking to them, and not forcing them to eavesdrop, I have lost their attention completely. A few heads nod in cursory acknowledgement of my existence, but no one speaks to me. Instead, the conversation returns to Mr. Collar's bathroom habits.

Kougaiji is whistling at the bird. The bird whistles back. It's eerily Snow White-esque, except for the dwarves at the table: Cutesy, Surly, Gropey and Hungry.





Acquire jacket. Hunt out car keys. This is considerably easier to do when sober, but not nearly as much fun.

Stand in the doorway, and check the Chibis one last time.

Four heads are huddled over a cut-throat game of... Pictionary? And Kougaiji is teaching the bird the Macarena.





They'll be fine here.

If they burn the place down, I won't have to do laundry. And Hakkai'll take care of the cat, I'm sure.

This is way too easy.

Which is just the way I like my life.





"Bye, then." Wave. Leave.





Close door, lock it. Check pockets for necessary pocket cargo. Should learn to do that before locking the door. Anyway, I have what I need.

Car.





Car is five heads fuller than an empty car should be. Hakkai has the map unfolded, and markers out. Goku has abandoned his crash-helmet (and likely some cash) for a snorkel, bucket and spade.

"Where do you think you're going?" I inquire, hopelessly.

"With you." they chorus.

"Of course." they add.

"Ha!" Sanzo snorts from behind the paper.

"It's best not to read in the car, Sanzo." Hakkai rustles the map.

"She hasn't got her crap in gear yet. I'll stop when we actually move."

"But..." Try to venture a word of objection, as the required full-sized driver, only to be ignored completely.

"Goku ate my snack!"

"Quiet!" Sanzo's wapping fan has remarkable reach, stretching all the way to the back seat. I can only hope that it will be used as a deterrent while I drive, or I won't need pills, as I and all my vehicular parasites will be dead.






Just give up. That's always my favorite option.

Get in.





Kougaiji is napping in the back window.

"You know," Muse aloud while starting the car. "Maybe this is a good thing. I mean, if you're going to go to the shrink, why not take your hallucinations along?"

Besides, they obviously need therapy more than I do.





Dead Silence.





Broken by Hakkai:

"Are you sure you should be driving when you're hallucina-"

"Oh, be quiet." Bump over the curve and out of the driveway. "And pass me those cookies."








I've given up on hiding them.

After all, if they're hallucinations, no one else should be able to see them. And if they're not...

Oh, I hope they are.

Anyway, this seems like the right place to bring them: crisp white walls, plenty of fake plants, a somewhat surly receptionist...

Her drugs must have worn off. Poor thing.





The chibis have successfully negotiated the double doors to get in, at one point using Goku as a doorstop. They are cunningly disguised as potted plants. And a bucket. What a bucket would be doing in the waiting room of Dr. A. Fraid, psychiatric specialist, I don't know.

The receptionist doesn't seem to notice. She has other things on her mind:

"No, I don't know where you put it! You'd better find it, or the government men will.... They have special accountants, you know. With guns!" Wait politely off to one side, picturing bookish, brown-jacket wearers packin' heat. "... hold on, there's someone here. Oh, it's your drunk. You know, the one who... yeah, she says she's seeing things now."




The entirety of this gesture-filled conversation is held into a near-invisible headpiece. Any reasonable person observing would think she was the crazy one.

"Hmph. She looks like the crazy one." Mumbles a fern, so dry it's yellow, as it paws through the magazines.

"Hey, if she's crazy do we need these disguises? My feet itch." Whines the bucket.

"Hush now... we don't know how crazy she is. After all, plenty of people talk to themselves... a bit..." the 14-inch tropical hushes them both.

I suppose I don't really need to check in. I think she knows I'm here.




Take a seat.

The motion seems to catch the eye of the receptionist, who drags her mind away from her government gun-men related troubles to patronize me.

"Oh, look! You've brought your doll with you. He's so... cuddly-looking. What's he made of?" She makes me feel kind of small... rather like Kougaiji, who is clinging to my arm wuvingly, having decided that the perfect disguise is no disguise at all.

I look at Kougaiji, who blinks up at me.

"Teeth. Mainly." I note. "Though that's just an observation."

"Isn't that fascinating."




It's the tone of voice. Something about that tone of voice causes me to decide against warning her about the delightful pot of red tea roses that are trying to look up her skirt.

"I'll have a room ready for you right away. You've hit us on a slow day, lucky you." So very lucky. Nice to know that the crazy population decided to give me a break today. And the Government Elite Accountant Squad.



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