big head creation theory

uh-huh.
another 'nother berserker creature.
i think that my energy, after working all day, is only capable of translating into drawings
of f*-d up monsters, until i decompress, munch up some treats, and cleanse my mindset.
...and then i draw vikings.
i never ever said i wasn't a little obsessive.
the good news is that i am reading a LOT about the things i care about.
caesar's commentaries? dope.
sagas of the icelanders? ridiculously dope. in fact, it has one of the better prefaces i've ever read.
i think when i mention the icelandic sagas, it should be answered the way people respond to mentioning 'red dawn'. only instead of 'WOLVERINES!', the chorus should yell out 'SKALLAGRIMSSON!!!" that dude spat some hot fire. i'm surprised its not warmer in iceland as a permanent side-effect of his lavaspit exploits...
battle bards, my ninjas.

never quiet. if i even sip a tiny swig of caffeine, i am positively off my t!ts with manic marauder mayhem.
so maybe, & i'm just supposing here, the handful of chocolate covered espresso beans, AND
the espresso shots in my double dark roast isn't exactly good for me....especially if even decaf blows my porpoisehole. right off my body.
never soft. because it tastes so good, though, i pump up the bellows on the hot fire furnace and invoke the motormouth masochism, and yell at clients, customers, and other collateral casualties about vikings and buttholes for hours at a time, while i dispense some dermal destruction,
and a little tiny bit of wotan warrior wisdom, 
courtesy of cupfuls of fair-trade sumatran mandheling. 
i don't even care what full-city roast means, yo.
i think it just means 'so delicious for my face',
and that makes more sense than being full-city in the woods.
(although, that may be why i am so delicious for YOUR faces. i'm full-city, son. in the woods.)
deliciousness is NOT something i want to miss out on, ya'll. consider youselves warned.
in case you're wondering, i drink that junks BLACK. 
large, black, bitter & strong. like my heart.
like surt. i'm burning worlds. one tasty, syrupy wet sip at a time.
    
fantasy.
not like pervert weirdies in maid costumes or zipper-mouth masks,
i mean fantasy, like r.a. salvatore, or j.k. rowling, or j.r.r. tolkein. or c.s. lewis.
fables, based loosely in fact. parables punctuated with implausible people and extraordinary activities.
and lots of initials instead of first names.
fictional worlds created as escape? as entertainment? as fashion statement?
i love the stuff. some unnamed people (who live in minneapolis) have a distaste for it based on bias against dress-up dorks and overavid rabid fanboys and girls making their whole lives revolve around pretend people.
but seriously, it all has an undercurrent of collective human conciousness. for some people, it is easier to relate to make-believe. especially when the real life A-holes you're surrounded by aren't offering much in the way of inspiration. i mean, yeah, there's lots of awesome quasi-fantastic historical hottness, but most folks have easier access to less academic and more escapist information. i mean, the '300' and 'lord of the rings' have a few things in common, but the actual literature on each (excluding graphic novelization) is nowhere near the same.....
fantasy writing and filmmaking is just a bigger-scale version of folktales and fables.
the jury is still out on this one, but i've got a monster manual collection, and a library of dungeons and dragons books that shows you where i stand on the verdict, ya'll......
and i will be watching the computer cartoon Star Wars.
lightsabers, muthalickers, are you even kind of kidding me? c'mon.
anyway,
i am looking for volunteers.
i can't see any reason not to fabricate some big ass heads,
but it is waaaaay more fun to make 'em with a crew of people helping.
like amish barn raising, or quilting bees.
it's a project designed to produce a tactile byproduct of cooperation.
in the form of a big face. made out of cardboard and newspaper. and duct tape.
so who wants to help?

i have been seeing the #8 everywhere...keep your soul-windows peeled.
word up.