Okay, so my mother lends her wizardry with numbers to my old grade school's sports organization, and I did some work for them through her this week. Somewhere during the creative process she suggested I add Al in baseball duds. "Don't go into illustration, mum", I told her. ("Oh, there's no danger of that."
I finished sadistic monster-free, but afterward I couldn't help but explore the concept
. Then this one came out and I liked the type, and before I knew it I had this glorified sketch on my desk and a fog in my brain, the latter of which was lifting just enough to let me wonder where my brain had been for the last hour and why I felt all smarmy and violated.Alan has... an inappropriate tendency to act on his anger,
but you don't really know it until he follows you to your car after the game. And he's usually smiling the whole time, so you can never be sure whether you've actually pissed him off or he just figured smashing your teeth down your throat with the blunt end of a baseball bat would be a nice way to close the day.
I'm starting to think I'm taking so long to get my tablet fixed because I actually like
practicing traditional work. Except the red. I had to do all of that with one 01 Micron that I don't imagine has a very fulfilling future left ahead of it. My wrist, either--if that doesn't build character, I don't know what will.