The Writer in 2D

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I write, which means I spend a lot of time in my head. (Actually as I’m typing this, Neil Gaiman is reading it aloud. I’ve just finished listening to “M Is For Magic” and his voice will stay with me for a few days, as the voice of all great readers tend to do.) I am not a slob but I don’t spend a lot of time getting ready for the day. Thirty minutes from shower to walking out the door is about all I’m willing to spend, and any more than that means I woke up with a rat’s nest on my head

This was especially true when I was younger, as I made repeated attempts to not bother with hair or makeup. I had friends in high school who used to literally slather on the foundation and eye liner and make every effort afforded to them by Bonnie Bell and Wet and Wild to make themselves look older and glamorous. These were the same friends with parents who believed makeup was for harlots, and so sometime during last period these high school harlots would scrub their faces pink and shiny for presentation to homebound carpools. I did not see the point of all of that work just to constantly check in a compact mirror whether or not my face was picture perfect. Add to that my skintone, a hard match even for professionals, and Me + Makeup = ohgawdkillit.

And I’m lazy. I didn’t want to get up in the morning to primp and powder, because my mop on my head was work enough, and at night I just wanted to sleep. I’d had enough PE classes to know that not removing makeup from a teen-age face before sleep would invite acne and therefore social pariah status. Maintaining my Not-A-Loser status would be better served by not clogging my pores.

This laziness proved to be a stroke of genius. What I wear everyday amounts just a lipstick so when I want to be dramatic, I don’t need much more. I don’t have the fine lines around my eyes like a lot of my peers, the result of pulling down eyelids to apply liner and remove foundation. The bonus though is that I look a wee bit younger than my thirty-six years, and I have to pet my younger self on the head for that bit of foresight.

I like taking pictures of myself because I like to watch the slow progression of time (and weight *coff*) and the pictures that I like, I often post to flickr or moblog or right here on my blog. Sometimes they’re commented on but mostly they’re not and that’s fine with me. I am not so needy that I need validation for what I post, and I know there are some that would rather not reveal themselves. That’s cool too.

In the last six weeks, two people have flattered me, not just by liking what I write, liking the way I look. Thy have taken photographs and created gorgeous bits of art that take my breath away every time I look at them.

I’d wanted to find someone to draw me as a Vargas/Elvgren-style pin up for a while but was at a loss as to how to go about approaching someone I didn’t know and couldn’t pay and convincing them to spend several hours making me look glamorous. John Donald Carlucci must have been reading my mind (a dangerous trek without a proper Sherpa) when he created the following:

Dark Writer, © JDC
Dark Writer, © JDC

(click to embiggen – there is a HD version on my harddrive, and I think it would look fantastic framed)

For the record, our John is a writer, himself. In fact I believe we made acquaintances over Project Greenlight? Maybe? Stalker from the days of The Diner and Apartment? Maybe? God, I’m terrible.  Anyway we run in many of the same writing circles. I’m blessed to know such a multi-talented person, and don’t I look fantastic?  Darke Curiosity Emporium jots the progress from the beginning and it’s fascinating to see the progression.

Bonus points if you can guess place the words across the behind.  Yes I know it involves staring for long periods at it, but when was the last time reading was so much fun?

Today, there was an apology in my comments section.  Veach Glines was apologising for not getting my permission before creating a stunning piece of digital art.  How could I possibly be mad?

digital rendering by veach st glines — 2009
digital rendering by veach st glines — 2009

This here doesn’t do it justice so click on over to his site so see it in all of it uncompressed beauty.

First it reminded me that I needed to change the licenses on my flickr stream. Second it made me sit down and really look at that he’d done. The images that shift and fade as the eye moves over them is how I would imagine a ghost would appear and then regress into the background when it was tired of being seen.  Plus the quote he used beneath the rendering was from something I’d written mid-last year. At first I didn’ recognize it, but I think that’s the point.  Out of context and paired with something  and it was just perfect.

Veach is also a writer and I suspect there’s a bit of mutual admiration for the other’s words.  He challenged me with a writing project a few years back called Quill-Ting, and it spun madly into other writings I did.  Inspiration begats inspiration, yes?

I can only say thank you to you both. There simply aren’t many words after that.

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Just this fox. I'm a writer of horror and dark fantasy. I totally don't brag about it. The latter statement is an utter lie.
  • Veach
    January 10, 2009 - 8:03 pm

    And thank you for the thank you, waiter, thankyous allround *swirls finger*. Keep em comin. And—wait— your ringlets weren’t expertly coiffed to LOOK disheveled… they were, what, disheveled?..Like, you just got done painting the room and ‘oh, hey, turnaround-MontiLee-smile!*click*’? Yeowza Wowza that is, accordingly, now an amazing photo of a stunningly beautiful woman. Because, simply put (back me up here equaintance-people) a woman who spends mucho time in front her vanity mirror may be pretty but will always be someone who ‘cleans up well’. On the other unadorned-hand, someone who can look like you do, au naturale, sans war paint, without a hour of squinching hair product? Yours is the only true beauty *bows to the floor*.

  • littleblackduck
    January 10, 2009 - 8:21 pm

    I am blessed with very good genes.

    It’s not going to help to tell you the day that pic was taken I’d not bothered to shower – I don’t get presentable on days I don’t have to be anywhere, and that particular day was January 1. It was just before six (according to my phone) when the call went out to leave a message for your future self.

    I’m only wearing the pirate skull scarf because I wasn’t about to comb my hair for Future Me, since that me wouldn’t care. I have that bit of info on very good authority.

But how do you really feel?

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