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The Stylist gets into the Master’s kitchen: a.k.a., True Friends Poison Each Other

The Stylist gets into the Master’s kitchen: a.k.a., True Friends Poison Each Other published on No Comments on The Stylist gets into the Master’s kitchen: a.k.a., True Friends Poison Each Other

@natalunasans sent me several sets of 1:6 scale accessories made by Battat for their 8″ Lori dolls. As you can see, they all work great for 1:6 scale people. While not on the level of Rement, all pieces show very good molding, sparing but realistic paint apps, realistic color schemes, and overall charming design. Better than Mattel playline.

Also starring a plastic overstuffed chair that came along with my Pop Toys British Detective [unlicensed Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock from the Abandoned Bride ep of the eponymous show set in 1895 or something]. And finally you can get a good look at the Stylist, who is a 2016 AA Holiday Barbie headsculpt on a Made To Move Body. I removed her eye makeup, brows, and lips, adding new brows, new mouth, and, of course, shading around eyes and nose. I also added a scar on her forehead because she was going to be Alison, but she doesn’t look like her.

 

 

Anyway, here’s the Stylist plowing her way through a selection, with eventual interception from the Master, whose pantry all that stuff was in. :p

No, apparently my Time Lords don’t have adventures; they just hang around and annoy the shit out of each other. 😛 Continue reading The Stylist gets into the Master’s kitchen: a.k.a., True Friends Poison Each Other

I made Barrett’s cape! Then the wizard in his own mind stole it…

I made Barrett’s cape! Then the wizard in his own mind stole it… published on No Comments on I made Barrett’s cape! Then the wizard in his own mind stole it…

Over the past two days, I successfully sewed a 1:6 scale semi-circular cape, lined and hooded, without a pattern. Black velvet forms the outer layer and the long, dangling, tapering hood, while small white skulls on black field form the lining. There’s a hook and eye for front clasp. I’m surprised at how well it came out! I originally made it for Barrett, a Zombieville denizen, but the Master got to it first. Here he is talking about it with the Stylist:

 

Continue reading I made Barrett’s cape! Then the wizard in his own mind stole it…

Day 26: “No Goblin King yet.” Modern Wizard in the Labyrinth

Day 26: “No Goblin King yet.” Modern Wizard in the Labyrinth published on No Comments on Day 26: “No Goblin King yet.” Modern Wizard in the Labyrinth

My current temp assignment places me in the state’s largest office complex, as measured by square footage. Like the hospital where I once worked, the complex started as separate buildings, together forming an integrated plant for the manufacture of computer chips. Over the course of expansion, separate pieces of architecture merged into one convoluted maze. The company that originally filled these buildings now retains only a ghost of a presence; current primary tenants are another chip manufacturer that bought out the local division of the first and a division of the state’s Health Access Department, where I work.

I’m ostensibly here to do UAT testing, which in itself is its own recursion of absurdity, but, after several weeks, I’m now 86.2% certain that I’m in the Labyrinth. Here’s the evidence:

Everything looks the same. The sadistic genius who constructed this place started off with that thoroughly dank industrial style common to so many 1960s and 1970s office buildings: unadorned square forms the color of wet mud, cement walls, long rectangular windows impossible to open, raw metal pillars, endless corridors – all topped off with liberal use of jaundiced fluorescent lighting. After duplicating this style in several cubes, they then linked the cubes together with identical glass catwalks. I have walked around for fifteen minutes, expecting myself to be in one building, only to realize I’ve gone through three replications instead.

The landmarks aren’t landmarks. When I discovered that one of the glass catwalks had bird decals along its sides, I rejoiced, thinking I had found a way to differentiate it from all the other catwalks. But no. All the other catwalks have the exact same decals, in the exact same pattern, at the exact same positions. It’s like the place is working against me.

The arrows point the wrong way. There are signs pointing to two key locations, the cafeteria and the state offices. 95% of them actually show you which way to go, but 5% of them point you in precisely the opposite direction, just for shits and giggles. Of course I followed the 5%.

The maps show you where you aren’t. I came across a route for indoor walking that described a loop through several buildings. It showed a location where the route started, but there was no indication of where I was in relation to that starting point. What is the point of a map if there’s no basis for comparison?

The denizens have a sarcastic and scatological sense of humor. I saw a sign on a door that said, “We provide fast service…no matter how long it takes!” Also someone scribbled out the first word on the “Records Retention Room” label and wrote “Poop” instead.

Time runs differently here. You may have no idea where you are around here, but you’ll always know what time it is. Well, scratch that. You’ll always see a clock, as they hang throughout the halls at junctions both major and minor. You’ll probably never know what time it is, as each clock seems to preside over its own local time zone that varies from all contiguous ones anywhere between zero and ten minutes.

There are dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. To get to my office, for example, I must traverse the Fiery Corridor of Death, a catwalk in which the overcranked HVAC combines with exposure to natural sunlight to yield about 50 feet of heady, smothering heat. Then, of course, there are the Exits of Mockery, which means that the door most convenient to my car would sound a fire alarm if I opened it, so I have to circumvent it with a 10-minute walk in the opposite direction. And then there’s a Failure Analysis Lab, where, I assume, you are taunted with explicit details of all your past mistakes until you cry. Chilling.

I suppose that, if I solve the maze, I will escape and win a permanent job with decent pay and benefits. But what constitutes a solution? Should I be heading for the center? As far as I can tell, this place has no center. Should I be heading for an exit?

And who’s in charge of this thing? The Goblin King appears to be conspicuously absent, which I suppose is good because he’s an immature, petulant little shit. So should I be looking for Daedalus or perhaps Ariadne? Should I be on my guard for a Minotaur? Now that I think about it, I do hear a dull roar, but that could just be the air conditioning….

Body upgrade and clothing frustration for the Master

Body upgrade and clothing frustration for the Master published on No Comments on Body upgrade and clothing frustration for the Master

So I got my first Hot Toys body today for the Master. Aside from some squeakily tight joints, it far surpasses all other male action figure bodies that I have ever encountered. It can even do a decent fetal position!

I also got my second “Chinese suit,” as the first one’s plastic snaps broke off. I replaced the snaps on the first with some metal snaps, only to discover that the snap position interfered with all that cool HT neck range of motion. Ugh. Fine. I guess he’ll be wearing something less restrictive. Hey, at least the pants are nice. Continue reading Body upgrade and clothing frustration for the Master

In which the English major rants about the Master letters

In which the English major rants about the Master letters published on No Comments on In which the English major rants about the Master letters

“Hey, so I finally finished my book!”

“Congrats! What’s it about?”

“Emily Dickinson’s letters.”

“Like the relationship between her letters and her poems? Or the letters she wrote to her sister-in-law? Or the letters she wrote to people asking weird questions like ‘Do you think my Verses are alive?’”

“Well, yeah, no. Actually about the Master letters.”

“Aw, neat – one of the great literary mysteries! So…any new background – theories – discoveries – secret insights?”

“Actually, that’s not really what the book is about.”

“How can you write a book about three incredibly intense and fragmentary literary texts and not go into any of that?”

“Okay, well, actually, I didn’t really write the book so much as I transcribed it.”

“Are you telling me that you transcribed the Master letters and tried to turn that text alone into a book under your very own name without including any sort of critical apparatus?”

“There is so some critical apparatus! I put in facsimiles as well as transcriptions that show the stages each letter went through.”

“So…then…what you’re saying is that I have to get your book to actually read the letters, but then, if I want any clue at all about their context or significance or, you know, anything else, I have to hit the library again? Dude – seriously – you can’t say you’ve written a book about something if all you did is reproduce the text. That’s like me claiming that I wrote a whole book about Shakespeare when all I did was transcribe a bad quarto. Cheater.”

The time has come to figure out what the hell Emily Dickinson was doing.

The time has come to figure out what the hell Emily Dickinson was doing. published on No Comments on The time has come to figure out what the hell Emily Dickinson was doing.

Because I can’t get it all from staring at her collected poems and trying to write my own [crappily] in the same form, I really need to look at her letters because they are extraordinary – just as intense, condensed, experimental, elliptical, and fascinating as her poems.

Okay then…so I need a general bio for context, after which I’m planning to focus on two of her most ambiguous, interesting, and charged correspondences. The first are to her sister-in-law, Susan Huntington Dickinson. The first are interesting because there’s an open question about what sort of relationship the two had. They were both writers, and Susan knew more than anyone about Dickinson’s poetry, having received 250+ poems over their 30+-year correspondence. For Dickinson, the relationship was at once intimate, cherished, world-opening, and contentious.

The second are three fragmentary texts known as the Master letters – i.e., after the addressee. They are very…charged. What the hell are those things – diary entries, poetry, draft letters, fair copies of sent letters, literary experiments? And the addressee – a real person, different real people, an imaginary person, different imaginary people, a personification, a deity, an abstraction, and/or several of the above? Here’s an overview of the Master letters, which, of course, assumes that they are all about SEX!!!! D: D: D:

I’m going to go with my favorite answer to questions like, “Are you x, y, or z?”:

“Yes.”

Pro tip: Depending on how sarcastic and/or generally devious the people in your head are, do not use this formulation when asking them questions because you’ll only get one answer instead of the three you expected. And, even if that single answer is the most accurate, it’s neither explicit, nor elaborate, nor ultimately satisfying.

“Right then. So is there any way at all of you answering my questions in a more useful fashion?”

“My answers are plenty useful. It’s just your perspective that’s unhelpful.”

“You’re unhelpful.”

“I’m very helpful. It ain’t my fault if you’re not ready to consider the truth of what I say.”

“So, in other words, you’re quoting the Gospel according to Mick: ‘Thou canst not always get what thou wantest, but, if thou tryest sometimes, thou just might find, thou gettest what thou needest?’“

“Well, the archaic conjugation kinda kills the meter, but the sentiment’s correct.”

I finally really read The Bells by Edgar Allan Poe.

I finally really read The Bells by Edgar Allan Poe. published on No Comments on I finally really read The Bells by Edgar Allan Poe.

Here. Typical Poe. Everything starts out seemingly normal, yet still uncomfortably…cockeyed, and then it quickly progresses into an exquisitely torturous phantasmagoria in which the elements that you would least suspect to betray you do just that, turning the world into a pathetic fallacy of misery.

I think of the I felt a Funeral, in my Brain poem by Emily Dickinson, which is also about sound overwhelming sense. I also think of her poem He fumbles at your Soul, though that could be more of a description of Poe’s authorial technique.

If Emily Dickinson had a motto, it would be Death, God, and Bees — Lots and Lots of — Bees.

For example:

Some things that fly there be —
Birds — Hours — the Bumblebee —
Of these no Elegy.

Some things that stay there be —
Grief — Hills — Eternity —
Nor this behooveth me.

There are that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the Riddle lies!

How does she do that? How???

The Master, the Stylist, some Fiendish Devices, and some books

The Master, the Stylist, some Fiendish Devices, and some books published on No Comments on The Master, the Stylist, some Fiendish Devices, and some books

My first iteration of the Master is finished! Custom sculpted Roger Delgado head painted by meeeeeeee [note to self: skin color is a mixture of Plaid/Apple Barrel Colors/20556 “Medium Flesh” and Anita’s All Purpose Acrylic Craft Paint 11007 “Chocolate Brown”], Dragon action figure body, “Chinese suit” for clothing, gloves from some other action figure, shoes from Character Options Dalek Sec [the only ones that fit]. The Stylist, a fellow Time Dork, is a 2016 Holiday Barbie repainted by meeeeeeeee, Made to Move Barbie body, most of the MTM yoga outfit, and MC2 shoefeet. Bookcases are from @natalunasans. I made the books a few weekends ago with a perfect bound notepad for signatures and note cards or origami paper for covers.

Now that I have him all together, the Master definitely needs some improvement. 1) A better body with more poseability. 2) Gloved hands in molded plastic. These bendy ones are shit. 3) Decent shoes. 4) A decent suit. 5) Most importantly, his Domina carissima, Alison!

P.S. Hey, Master, you do know that’s Julian’s Device, right?

Continue reading The Master, the Stylist, some Fiendish Devices, and some books

Another Fiendish Device or several

Another Fiendish Device or several published on No Comments on Another Fiendish Device or several

Behold my latest magnificent creation, which I have designed especially to achieve my devious plans. It may appear to be the underside of a record player turntable, but the ignorant masses clearly know nothing of such cutting-edge technology as mine. This is an audiovibratory physiomolecular transport device!

“You mean…he’s gonna send us to another planet?!”

“Planet schmanet, Janet!”

Continue reading Another Fiendish Device or several

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