Look out for that train...

I've been in Arizona visiting my relatives for three weeks. We visited a train park I used to love when I was little, and took this picture. The train is just for display, but it looks it's coming at me...

Portrait

A Somewhat sketchy portrait of my friend. I've done a few, and I think this one is the most accurate. The others except one are too hideous to look upon.

Drawings...

Just some drawings I did recently. I'm running out of room in my sketchbook, so I haven't posted a lot of my sketches lately. Th one on the left is a character from The Faeries of Dreamdark: Blackbringer, and the one on the right is a character from a science fiction story of my own creation.

Sunday Scribblings-cheese

Sunday Scribblings.

The following is a collection of entries from the log of captain of the starcraft Mayweather and leader of earth's first colonial mission outside of our solar system.

Date: 5/2/70
Log entry #1:

Today is the day following our arrival on the new habitable planet. Our craft, the Mayweather, has been safely docked and we have successfully unloaded all the tents and supplies. My whole body aches from yesterday’s work, but I am quite content as I lay in my cot writing this. The landscape is beautiful, and the air—oh the air! Breathing is even greater a delicacy than the finest dish, It could never compare to the labor one has to endure sipping the lung-scorching muck that clings to Earth. I have turned my lung filter off, and it gladdens me that I will never have to adjust that bothersome little dial protruding so obnoxiously from my chest again. I await the rest of my life with great anticipation.

Date: 5/3/70
Log entry #2:

This morning I brought out the cooler of Martian wine that I had saved for the celebration of our arrival. Our youngest citizen, five-year-old Timothy, watched us curiously. I had not thought to bring any child-friendly beverage along, but one of the nutritionalists had found edible fruit growing on the nearby trees, and the child soon had his very own glass of freshly squeezed alien juice. We must cultivate these trees in the future; they could be invaluable as an alternate form of nutrition to our Earth vegetables.

Date: 5/5/70
Log entry #3:

We began planting our vegetables two days ago, and good-sized sprouts have already appeared. I was doubtful as to how well the seeds would thrive in this alien soil, but I am pleasantly surprised at the results. We will wait a while longer to harvest.

Date: 5/8/70
Log entry #4:

The vegetables are succulent and full of flavor. Food grown by the cloning tanks onboard our craft is bland and slightly sickening, it is a relief to finally taste the real thing again. Either I have been deprived of Earth’s cuisine for too long or the vegetables are even more delicious. I would venture to guess at the latter.

Date: 5/11/70
Log entry #5:

Today we will make north to gather water. Five of us are going; the rest will stay behind and take care of our crop. It should take us a night at the most, but we are bringing plenty of provisions in case Mother Nature decides to make our journey difficult. Our craft’s sensors did not detect any sever weather when in orbit, but best to be on the safe side.

Date: 5/12/70
Log entry #6:

I should not have written the bit about Mother Nature in my log yesterday; my doubt of bad weather seems to have made her cheeky. We are hiding from the storm in a cave that, as one of our men constantly complains, smells strongly of cheese. Although slightly revolting, the odor is small potatoes. I am happy to say we have gathered a goodly amount of water, and should be returning to camp without any problems as soon as the storm lets up.

Date: 5/12/70
Log entry #7:

It is getting late, and Mother Nature has not grown any kinder. Furthermore, the cheese smell is growing even stronger as I write this, and almost unbearably so. I fear it may eventually become hazardous to my men’s psychological health.

Date: 5/17/70
Log entry #8:

It is six days since we set out with the intention of gathering water, and now we find ourselves faced with the more important task of surviving on ground never before trod upon by human feet. I have not written of our four previous days here, so I will explain now.

The cheese smell turned out to be the pheromones of a type of advanced hominid; we had interrupted a mating ritual. The female’s suitors shouted at us (the shouting was actually more of a loud gurgling noise; the creatures vaguely resembled snails, with eyestalks protruding from sunken eye sockets) and advanced, carrying rocks and other dangerous implements. Disregarding both the storm and our water tanks, my men and I fled the cave and took shelter in a dense forest a few meters from the mouth. We are attempting to find our way back to the others, but our detour has taken us deep amongst the trees. The compass and our knowledge of landmarks seem to be helping though, and while I am rattled by our experience I remain optimistic about our chances.

Date: 5/18/70
Log entry #9:

All is well; we have made a safe return. The storm of six days ago has proved to be beneficial to our survival. I mentioned previously that we left our water tanks behind with the snail hominids, luckily the civilians looking after our agriculture had collected the rainwater in some of the empty tanks we did not bring on our expedition. The water has been filtered and stored, and we have mountains of vegetables ready to eat. Now that we know more about our surroundings we can be more prepared on future journeys.

Date: 5/19/70
Log entry #10:

Today we were visited by more of the snail hominids. These individuals, while still smelling strongly of cheese, were much less aggressive, and even offered us food and gifts. They were no doubt in awe of our advanced technology and foreign appearance. I am glad that our previous excursion has not made us any enemies; the cheese men are much gentler when not in a mating frenzy.

Date: 6/3/70
Log entry #11:

Our extra-terrestrial neighbors have become regular visitors to our colony, upon each visit bringing with them bowls of fruit. So far we have not encountered anything inedible I am glad to say, for I should not like to offend the cheese people.

Date: 6/4/70
Log entry #12:

Today I caught a cheese person looking curiously at the Mayweather. Using hand gestures to communicate, he asked me if he could see the vessel’s interior. I relented, under the condition that he did not touch anything. To my surprise he did not draw back his eyestalks in fear at the technology, nor did he grow especially exited at all. Still, it is hard for me to read alien emotions, and I am sure his tale about the human abode will become extremely popular amongst the snail people.

Date: 6/5/70
Log entry #13:

Today I will travel with the cheese men to their village. I will be going without a human escort, but this does not worry me. After being around these people I have come to trust them, and they seem to think highly of us. I anticipate learning more about their culture.

Date: 6/7/70
Log entry #14:

Upon my arrival I was given a tour around their cavern. They had no need for individual houses, as the cave sheltered all of them collectively. Instead they each had little territories of their own personalized with various belongings. In the center of the cavern was a large pile of leaves where feasting took place. Snail children resembling upright maggots ran and played around us as we ate. Much of this I had expected, but it was not until after the meal that the most shocking and unexpected information was revealed to me.

After the feast, the cheese people solemnly led me deeper into the cavern, and I was soon faced with a large rectangular metal door. I looked on in disbelief as it opened, and was led inside.

The room we had walked into was made entirely of metal and contained star charts and other instruments I had no name for. I was allowed to wander the room in wonder before turning back to my hosts with an inquisitive look.

One of them spoke in a low gurgled voice, and I found myself able to understand the alien. They explained that they were not native to this planet. They came here only for a pit stop, to gather resources and breath fresh air, but mutiny commenced, and those loyal to the captain were forced to stay marooned here. After many days of waiting for rescue, they gave up and began to settle in the caves. They said that my ship gave them renewed hope, and they soon sent somebody to see if it would accommodate them all.

I grew visibly angry, but the snails reassured me that they would not take my ship from me without my consent. I considered this. Our mission here was of no return, so the Mayweather was nothing more than a reminder of our origins, although they were best forgotten.

I have decided to let them take my ship back to their homeland. The cheese people are preparing for the journey as I write this, and I cannot help but feel a pang of sadness at the imminent loss of our newfound neighbors. Although I have my human companions, life here will be awfully lonely without our alien ones.

I asked the new captain of the Mayweather if they had encountered any native intelligent life on the planet, and he told me that they had not ventured far from the caves and the surrounding area. This gives me sudden inspiration for a much longer expedition across this planet. I am excited at the secrets this place holds, and while I mourn the loss of our friends I cannot wait to see what the future will bring.
........

The Sonnet of Captain James T. Kirk

These are the travels of the Enterprise
Our purpose is to explore the universe
We visit planets of enormous size
And please ignore my Tricorder man-purse
I am Captain Kirk the awesomest guy
McCoy is confounded by Spock’s logic
Spock is a Vulcan so he cannot lie
All the natives seem to think we’re magic
I hate the Klingon ‘cause they killed David
Killed him on the planet known as Genesis
Their obsession with the planet was quite rabid
Their captain fell in the fiery abyss
Now here we are floating through time and space
About to save the entire human race.
..........

Yes, I know David and Rabid don't rhyme, and Spock actually can lie, but it's not too much of a stretch.

Zombie apocolypse

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Laini Taylor

Laini Taylor is a writer living in Portland Oregon. She has written three books and one graphic novel, all illustrated by her husband, Jim Di Bartolo. Her books are great (although I've only read one, but I'm sure they're all great...) and worth checking out, so I have supplied links below.

Laini Taylor's website.
Laini Taylor's Blog.
Jim Di Bartolo's website.
Jim Di Bartolo's Blog.