Keep those hearts beating and dreaming.

A stellar new year to all of you.

One recurring thread in the comments I get here seems to be that I remind people of either Tim Burton or Shel Silverstein. I'm not saying there's any merit to these comparisons, but it's flattering regardless, so thank you! That said, there are times when I'm not entirely sure what to make of it.

I don't deny the influence both have had on me. I've always liked Tim Burton's films for their aesthetic flair and uncompromising weirdness. The sort of twisted fairy tales he does are my favourite; mixing macabre with wonderlands takes the sharp edges off the former and the ho-hum fluffiness off the latter.

Shel's great, though I'm really only familiar with A Light In The Attic and Where The Sidewalk Ends, which I read as a kid. They're packed with playful but intelligent poems aimed at kids, along with quirky, endearing drawings.

But I've always rejected the notion of falling into hero worship with any artist. To me, that seems to lead to "I want to be just like <name>!" type thinking. And how can you find your own place if you're always striving to be in someone else's?

So you can see why I can get a little conflicted. But I don't want to be the person who changes his face every time he sees someone who bears a slight resemblance to him. Nor would I like to be thought of as a poor man's Silverburton.

I'm overthinking it, but writing it out helps. Maybe all I should focus on is doing what I love to do. It'll grow from there.

At least I'm chinese. That's new, right?

Hello! I'll be more or less away for a couple weeks, so you all have a good December, alright? You better.

Though I do have a little animation to upload once dA fixes the film gallery, so keep an eye or two out for that

see ya

sorry I've been ghost-like here! thanks all for your continuing support, and apologies for not always keeping up with all that art I keep getting in my message centre. there are a few things in the works to come, including a third night lights (more to the comedy side again) and maybe some other fun and/or not fun business.

I've been falling up recently. it's a little incredible how sometimes your own mind can feel bigger than yourself; like it inflates into a fat happy blimp and takes you back to where you're meant to be. wherever you're happy. even if you're happy being sad. your head's true home.

that's all. take care.

---

<sub>strange talk between friend robyn and I:

D: [link] SEX BOMB by TOM JONES
R: hahaha!! oh nooo! Old man dancing
D: better or worse than paul mccartney?? [link]
R: Paul wins with me xD
D: XD me too. somehow tom jones looks like he wants to seduce you too much
R: And it's not working! hahaha. or maybe it is?
D: XD sex BOMB sex BOMB
R: Tom Jones needs to work on being subtle. Does he write his own songs?
D: I have no idea! maybe paul writes them for him
R: xD sabotage! Here Tom, I have a song for you. It's called Sex Bomb. Tom: huh! Wonder what that means!
[later]
R: I remember watching Polkadot Shorts on a public broadcasting channel
D: me too!
R: It was so strange to me haha
D: they should've shown SEX BOMB
R: XDDD oh gosh
D: hahaha has he seduced you yet
R: "Baby you can turn me on!" but not vice versa
D: lol! awwwwwww unrequited sex bomb</sub>

weird dream #1:

paul mccartney is my best friend, and, naturally, we go rollerblading together in ugly sweatsuits.
I let him know that I'm about to go on vacation, overseas.
he starts to sing a goodbye rendition of "Rocky Raccoon" as we zoom past the grocery store.
I start to get teary-eyed and want to get away,
but paul pins me against a wall with his butt and keeps singing.

what are friends for, after all?