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Been working back on my blog lately and I've been really trying my best to do so, so if you'd please, check my site out. Getting the word out is pretty tough at times and I'm hoping whomever watches me could possibly give time to check out my blogspot. Cheers.
  • Listening to: Wandering Star Portishead
  • Drinking: Tea
Well, if you were wondering why I haven't submitted anything in so long, it's because I haven't been able to find a scanner! I've finally got my scanner back, so I can scan all my sketches and put em on here, so hopefully, everything is cool and you'll be enjoying new sketches every week.

Also, I've been running out of pencils lately, so I'm also getting to that. Money is getting so tight, but I'll always have room for graphite pencils.
  • Listening to: Breakdown by Jack Johnson
  • Drinking: Tea
My story that I've been trying to write for a few weeks now and I think its pretty okay, but I need some feedback =P Mind reading the first chapter? If you want more, I'll post more.

Chapter 1
Our fair city…

Hookers. God damn dirty hookers. I know it's definitely not a good opening line to my life, but damn is it one that really sums up what I think of the group. I mean, what the hell sort of right do they have to walk up to someone and offer sex? Even someone as young as me! What the hell is wrong with our city. Ha! Our city. That's a train of thought that hasn't been acknowledged for a while.
This city, this dump of a God damned hole of complete disregard for life. Filth is what this city has become. Become? Or has it always been this way? I don't even care anymore, I don't want some historical bullshit dollop on my lap for my to just bask in the smell. School around here shut down anyway, since they started bombing them.
Schools were okay, but the teachers had no real eagerness to teach us. There wasn't, I think, a single person who really wanted to handle the sadistic generation we were. I pitied them. They had to deal with us while we were in school, they didn't have much of a choice. Our lot was a lot of the worst society shat out on a silver platter. Who could deal with us? Aetus Damnare, is what they called our generation in Latin terms. In layman's terms it means Generation of the Damned. How's that for dark and bleak? We can't help it, I suppose, we're only products of what our parents were, Generation X. When the internet came to be, I'm not sure if that was good or bad, really, but a lot of things seemed to have happened since then, like a big explosion. Hell, there've been a lot of explosions since then.

I'm exiting Fall Out, the local safe house for people of my ilk, which is what people call "useless." I suppose we don't have much use, but who makes the signs, who sprays the tags, who makes the murals that inspire, who displays who's block is who's so that people know what to expect?
I'm walking on Madison Street, going to the Millennium Neutralities. That's a joke. Neutralities? Millennium is a war zone, most of the artwork there has been pillaged, scrapped, destroyed for money that everyone so desperately needs. Most of the works have been salvaged, except The Bean. Nobody goes near The Bean. A group of doomsayers housed up there, they stole the guns from Manny's Sport Shop and they attack anyone stupid enough to travel up the steps.
The only really peaceful section of Millennium is the Promenade and the Faces. I know the girl who runs the Promenade area now, she's got a nice business with her café there, it's pretty nice. It's where I'm headed now. The Faces on the other hand are neutral because it's a general agreement, on all turf, that that's where the lead thug headers meet and it's where the kids all come to play.
I'm not one for caring where or how the kids play, but at least there's one specific area for them to be cared for. The Faces have pretty much turned into an outdoor community center. This cities play areas are pretty limited nowadays, I suppose. Ever since the Rebel Reclamation, Chicago really has changed. It's surviving pretty much on its own and doing a damn good job of it to be honest.
All over what was America, cities and towns were being ground down into cesspools, but Chicago, has stayed as pure as can be with grime swishing around its' ankles. I guess that's why they call this place Deliverance. That's always what it's known for, Deliverance, for any refugee that's recovering from post-reclamation shellshock. It's made this city overpopulated and with too many people in one place at one time, something was bound to happen.
What happened was that in one week, every gang that could, grabbed turf. Fights started happening, people started dying, everybody who wasn't part of a gang stayed inside their homes. The refugee population was halved, since they didn't quite have homes. It's famously known around here as the Uprising. Everything changed that week. Deliverance was split into war on all fronts and within itself.
After that week, it was done, people went outside, but all the rival forces were at a standstill, so they drew ceasefires. I was there when they all shook hands in solemn silence at the Faces. Everywhere was hit hard, but Millennium Park was the bloodbath. It was where we all knew just how bad it got. Bodies all over and still twitching people lay in pain and agony, all of them refugees, who set up there to use the water that the Faces spat. It was at the very moment that ever rival gang shook hands that the Faces sprayed water onto the surfaces, like a pitiful washing the city clean of filth.
No matter what, it still resolved so many problems, it made everything peaceful ground, everything was fine. Then the American Government came back. It's been open hostilities in certain places for months now, but I'm still not used to the gunfire. I always hated guns, always did, since I watched the Uprising from my room, since I saw the shot which killed my mother, since I watched the peace treatise in Millennium.
So many things that are against so many other things. That's all it looks like to me, I feel grief or sorrow for what has happened lately, for what has happened in the past, but I can't do anything can I? It's all so complicated. Nothing makes sense anymore, especially since the Seraphim came. It feels like a fairy tale.

I'm between the faces, I stand there for a moment, taking in the still operating faces of the two towers which trickle water every few minutes. I look at both of them and then I look in the water at the ground, looking at my reflection. I smile and shrug, going on to the Promenade, life doesn't have to be so gloomy, at least I've got a good haircut.
  • Listening to: Rosetta Stoned by Tool
  • Drinking: Tea
I've lately been reading lots of comics, I mean lots. Each otf them has some serious story to it, making it all the better read for me, because I don;t really like the kind of story that just lays it all out on a table. It's gotta be jumpy or extremely in depth, like the oh so classic Watchmen.

But I've taken to reading lesser known comics and some very good classics, I'll give the rundown and my reviews.

First up,

The Filth

The Filth is a rather expansive story about a man who had left a group of people known as The Hand because of what he had to do. Now his duties were often to be the "clean up crew" for the world. He was part of a special team, in which he was then pitted against various adversaries to deal with, though not just your average run-of-the-mill villain, but he would go against these sick deviants with horrid intentions. It was really weird, seeing how graphic and blatant that The Filth could become in certain parts, but it really set the expansive mood, showing that what people might do in there spare time, might be a bit more than just speculation.

Total A+ read for me, it had me at hello, when he went on his first trip to his last one. Wonderful writing and a good graphic storyline.

Next is...


Now, who doesn;t know the story of John Constantine these days? Very few don;t know who he is, but that's only because of the film Constantine in which John Constantine was portrayed by the famous Keanu Reeves. This wasn;t the best choice admittedly, since Mr. Reeves is a terrible actor, and quite unfit for the part, but the movie was alright, despite. The real story of John Constantine is many times better, with much more depth and feeling to it. Hellblazer is still continuing, and is very popular among nerds like me.

I love Constantine, he is one of my favorite comic book characters as of reading the comics.

Last one for now,

Y: The Last Man

An interesting take of the "last man on Earth" situation, since in this comic, the protaganist really is the last man on Earth, literally. Among the worlds female population, the last man on earth, Yorick Brown, emerges onto the hell which has become the world. And all he wants is to find his girlfriend. Yorick gets roped up into actiuons that move to fast for him and he is sent all across the world to try and save humanity. No, not by fornication, but by clones.

A great take on one of my favorite questions (what it would be like to be the only man on earth) and it really delivers in material. Brian K. Vaughn is a genius in telling this story.

I'm eager to get my hands on more good material, preferably Vertigo comics, so I can get some cool mind expanding ideas. Or melt my brain in the process.

This is Matthias, rollin' out.

(all of this is from my blog which I update whenever possible, but usually once a week. Check it out at the link
  • Listening to: Hold My Hand by Unkle
  • Watching: Ip Man
  • Drinking: Tea
It may be a litle to early to for Valentine's day. but I just want to think about, well, love. Such a basic and powerful emotion of the human mind, this love. Love which shakes walls down to their cornerstones.

We have all tried and tested the thought and existence of love, no doubt, with varying results. We have all tried to fill that strange ache we have in our chests, to cope with the solitude that is thrust unto us all. Many antidotes and anecdotes have been used, Religion, Science, Work, but have any of them really made you feel whole? I mean truly, did they make you complete, make you feel lke you were something to behold? Surely it will be argued, but you know, oh you know that nothing else matters until you fill that deep void, that deep longing within you.

Love has been described as many things. As a burning ember within the soul, as a embrace of fuzzy feeling, even as described as panes of glass. But embers can die and feelings can cease and glass is fragile, but love is like the purest of matter, the truest of unbreakable bondage, which can never be severed or broken. Do you ever stop loving someone? Do you ever truly loathe the person whom you once shared intimacies with? No, life does not work in such a manner that can allow this. It is almost inhuman to truly do so, resulting in the loss of your soul, for turning all hate and letting thr deep darkness flood you wil destroy the very fathoms of your soul.Yet, maybe that's what you want?

Love is a destroyer and a creator. Well, self-explanatory, without being explicit. We all know that love has properties which truly can make ones life whole, ones life comeplete, but there is also the menacing falacies of love. Love, when buried hatchet deep into a tree trunk, seems to turn on you, seems to become your enemy. You hate the one(s) you love and isolate yourself, from where you can become something you never wanted to be in the first place alone. Such things will happen and you could survive, you could continue, but what if you can't, you will bear that open wound all your life, letting more lifeblood fall everytime it is touched upon. Yes, it will happen as such. Love is forever, but so are the deep scars it leaves.

I find myself glad, almost, that i stare up at my ceiling every night at 1 AM, thinking, "Why? Why am I the one alone? Why is there no one?" Truth is, I'm content with not being with anyone, I may be bitter for my age, I may be an extremely blunt unfunny asss who shoves his foot so far down his throat that it tickles my kideys, but hell, I'm not the one who is stuck in the rut.

I've met so many people, so many who wish they could have just not done it, but you know, I hate that. When I truly feel that I should not and believe that I cannot have such feeling, my friends are forsaking what chances they should take. My friends are taking the fact that they have true chances, that they can be more than just the person next to them, they can be the person with them, the person close to them.

And when my friends stop taking in the damned puppy love of children, of people my age, maybe they can realise that life has so few chances, life has so few times that you can make real differences. I'm going to help them as much as I truly can, counseling them to my best abilities, but I can't change them, they must be changed, maybe they might see it like me, maybe not. Life goes on.

You know, though this is already so drawn out, I read a quote a while back by a famous man whose name was Boethius. He said, "A man content to go to heaven alone will never go to heaven." I agree 100% for you can't be alone, you can't, but allow me a fantasy, that some people, some very few, don't need someone.

This is Matthias, signing off.

[Read this on my original blog site: to see some added photography.]
  • Listening to: Lonely Souls - Unkle
  • Reading: The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud
  • Drinking: Tea
So, I got this little thing, aye? This DeviantArt.

I feel, well, empowered, yea? I want to get as much of my art as I bloody can on here, in hopes that I can get known, just to get known, not recognized, really. I just want to get my images, my ideas, my attempts to be used. Hopefully, I can live up to everyone here, in being able to write, to draw, to photograph, to do my best.

Cheers, thanks for the page view and enjoy my art :)
  • Listening to: Lonely Souls - Unkle
  • Reading: V for Vendetta
  • Playing: Call of Duty: World at War
  • Drinking: Water