Home Again

Well it's been about 9 days since my return to Hawaii, and holy shit did I miss it. Coming home, Didie dropped all sorts of goodies on me. The first night I was back she had a Wii, Wii Sports, some business cards, and even the camera I bought wrapped as presents for me on the table.

The camera is a Sony a700, I bought it on eBay for $830--which is actually a pretty good deal seeing as it was mint with the kit lens and remote and all that. I think the 2nd night I was back we went to Ala Moana shopping center and bought a 50mm Prime lens at Ritz Camera. I hate Ritz, they mostly only have Canikon stuff in stock. No love for Sony/Minolta.

Didie's friend Ryan was here when I got back, it wasn't as awkward as I thought it'd be. We still had plenty of sex (me and Didie). Me and Ryan went to Kuoloa Ranch (Didie had to work), I got to ride a fucking huge horse named Michelin that weighed about 2000 lbs. We also got to do the bus tour that stops by all the movie sights, to include the Jurassic Park area where the Gallimimus stampeded happened in the movie. I'll post pictures eventually after I finish editing.

With all of this awesomeness, I find myself overwhelmed with things to do. Between my Wii, PS3, XBOX 360, PSP, DS, camera and artwork that inevitably needs to get done--I won't be bored any time soon. Not to mention all of the beach hopping I'll be doing. Didie, Charlie and I went to the beach for the first time on Saturday. It was so fun! I miss the ocean so much. It's gonna be bitter sweet leaving Hawaii. Sweet because I'm getting out of the Marine Corps--but bitter because Hawaii is so beautiful and I do love it dearly.

Yo dawg!

I don't typically subscribe to creating internet memes, but I felt inclined to make this for my friend Cottle. He sure loves guitars.

Any way, we're about done with this deployment. I have about just over 2 weeks left and I'm super excited to get back to Hawaii to my wife and my dog and my Teddy's. This will mark the end of my last deployment to this horrible country, as well as the beginning of the end for my enlistment in the Marine Corps. It's hard to believe it's almost been 4 years since I decided to become a masachist.

I'll be leaving Hawaii as well. I rather like Hawaii, it's nice all the time and there's a beach by my house. I would stay if it offered any of the opportunity I need to reach my goals in life. Unfortunately the little island isn't as good for animation and film as it is for relaxing and enjoying the sun.

I went on my last mission the other day. We had a detainee release in Fallujah, left from Baghdad. We spent the whole day prior in Baghdad. It would be nice, if not for the excessive use of army personnel there. Obviously the base is an army base, and that's fine. But places like Baghdad really make you see how little of a war this is any more. Any shred of hardship or struggle goes unremembered in Baghdad's green zone. Between the 2 acres of chow hall and the Taco Bell the spirit of war is no where to be found in that place. Not to sound completely motarded, but I think this is primarily due to the lack of Marines in Baghdad. Marines in themselves carry with them the presence of conflict. If there's no Marines where you are, there's probably not much going on.

Baghdad is so devoid of Marines, in fact, that the soldiers there seem to fear us. Walking passed them in the chow hall or on the street, you're greeted not with words, but with quick, fearful glances in an effort to avoid eye-contact. The soldiers cower and flinch at the movements we make, the officers and SNCO's are overly polite as if we're going to kill them on a whim if they say the wrong thing. The soldiers fear and respect the Marines. I'm not going to make any claims that I deserve this respect, or that I have seen or experienced more than every soldier in Iraq. Just... more than these soldiers. In this stage of the war, the soldiers that inhabit Baghdad are not war-hardened veterans--but rather pasty, overweight and fearful products of the safe-haven.

One moment in particular that I thought was interesting: I was sitting in the chow hall, eating, minding my own business--the only tan cammies in a sea of gray PT shirts, glow belts and blue ACU's. This civilian in a glow vest comes up to me with a very noticeable scar on his face, he tells me, "Hey man, how's it going? My name is Angel, I used to be a Sergeant in the Marines."

I responded, "Oh hey how's it going?"

He proceeds to tell me that he misses seeing Marines around, and that if we ever need anything--go to the Mayor's Cell and ask for "Gunny". Apparently "Gunny", as the name implies, is a retired Marine Gunny that likes to hook up Marines. He said if we ever wanted any hookups or anything at all that we could think of, we should see Gunny. I was flattered and somewhat taken aback by this. The idea that Marines are so rare and yet revered in Baghdad was strange, honestly I didn't think anyone really bought into the ideas that Marines are that much better. But looking around the chow hall, seeing all the obese soldiers and airmen in their PT gear with their rifles on the floor--you realize that no matter how fucked up we may think the Marines are... we're still better than the Army.

Cruisebook Cover

So I'm sure some may be curious as to what the Cruise Book cover will look like. This is a preview of what I'm shooting for, it's still tentative. It's an ink illustration I did based off the plank holder certificate I did last year.

Ouch Charlie! That really hurt!

Charlie bit me...

I'm still working on this. It's coming along better than I thought it would. The Detective took me way too long, I went over and over and over his facial features a million and a half times over about 4 hours to finally get it somewhere that works. I'll probably go over it again.




If I don't stop myself I'll be up all night with this thing.

www.polkout.com

Read www.polkout.com

It's hilarious.

On the Psyche of a Zombie

It feels like it's been forever since I just tried to paint something for myself. As in, not a Marine or something for 3/3. WO Quigley would probably shit his pants with rage if he knew I was doing this and not the USMC art he wants, but it's 3am and I just feel like thinking about zombies.

I miss zombies. I love zombies. I love how simple, sad, and confused their faces are. I love how they stumble and moan, the amount of entertainment I get out of the little things zombies do is kind of weird. Sure, everyone loves a good zombie flick, they like seeing a group of survivors fight their way out of a horde to safety. They like seeing what the people are going through, and talking about how they would handle it.

When I watch a zombie movie I don't care about the people, I try to think about what the zombie must be going through. People think of them as mindless entities, just roaming and eating. In the simplest of terms, that's what they are. But on some level, consciousness exists. Writing Charlie the Zombie, I started thinking about what he must be seeing. They do see, after all. They see, they smell, they touch, and at some level, they're able to think. If only to discern what's food and what isn't, people always say it's "instinct." I've heard it said that the difference between man and animal is free will, and that animals are driven by instinct. While I can't really say whether or not this is true, I do know that no matter how dumb I may think my dog Charlie is, there is still thought going on behind his blank stares.

Charlie the Dog, much like Charlie the Zombie, sees the world in front of him. He dreams and thinks just like any human, albeit at a lower level of intelligence. No matter how you look at it though, Charlie, like any animal with a brain, thinks. This leads me to think that a zombie must think on some level as well. The brain, damaged from lack of blood flow, still processes information and still produces images and thoughts in his head. These thoughts are damaged though, the images distorted and turned into a horrifying kind of reality only fully illustrated in our worst nightmares. The deepest parts of the brain are the only ones left active, childhood memories and scars buried deeper than we can even remember are the reality of a zombie. The nightmare only growing more frightening and distorted as the brain rots, as zombies do rot, and ultimately the creature will slip away.

People think of zombies as just hungry, wandering and trying to find food. Perhaps there is a reason they see us as food though, perhaps in their horrifying reality we're represented to them as some horrible childhood figure and in their state lack the intelligence to stop themselves from wanting to kill us. Maybe to a zombie, eating the flesh of a living human provides them with some kind of respite--a fullfilled revenge of sorts in their wandering daze.

I dunno, this is all just speculation obviously, and the focal point of Charlie the Zombie. I urge you all, the next time you're playing Resident Evil or watching Day of the Dead; ask yourself, What is this zombie doing here? What events after his death led him to this point, only to be killed by the hero.

Seeing the world from their eyes might in fact open your own.

A Preview of Things to Come

So it's like 4am here but I had this awesome idea for a new Charlie painting and I started working it. Based off of the Michaelangelo painting, there is going to be much more to it...