Fear and Hate.
Hate alone is a cowardly thing. Fear is a bit more active, it leads to simple, bad decisions that don’t simply impact the coward; the decisions impact everyone. Combine fear with hate, and a forge is made.
Fear and Hate.
My parents are on a timer, and they’ve both led amazing lives…especially my mom. This week she’s in the hospital and it kind of struck me that, while she’s pretty damn indestructible, she isn’t immortal.
It’s time to get those stories of theirs down, to capture them and archive them, so they’re not lost in the rain.
Riding white water through tunnels in a mountain.
Standing on the beach, watching the cloud rise as the Bikini Atoll was incinerated by a Hydrogen Bomb.
I need a douche hat…and a shitty car with a soup-can muffler.
While you’re giving me gifts, why not some mid ’90’s economy sedan with plenty of space under the hood for superchargers, turbos, cold air intakes and enough trunk space to stuff a few bass cannons so I might make my brain hemorrhage.
The Diluvian Mountains were a bitter set of black and grey teeth jutting from a flood plain that was sparsely populated. Steep, tall, prone to releasing torrents of glacial flood waters at a whim, not many cities had seen a desire to set roots close by, so there were few who called the place home. The residents who did were seasonal farmers and hunters who would risk the plains during warm weather, growing fast, high-yield crops they could harvest quickly for market then return to the higher valleys to wait out winters, hunting, until the next cycle began.
While waiting for my new glasses to arrive, I decided it was time to work on the prototype cover art for the new Mr. Rain piece. I had a base to start the cover from and an idea of where I wanted the cover to end…