I was always, slender, slim if not sickly skinny. Whenever I saw my dear friend Lisa again after a long time she usually commented my overall appearance with “Oh gawd, you look starved!” and “You look like you have cancer. Oh my god, do you have cancer?!”

I owed my Iggy-Pop-like physique to the location of my room in my parents’ house — and my laziness:

I lived for many years in the attic at my mom’s place, a lovely two-storied suburban row house, further I was blessed from early adolescence on with a total and eternally fucked-up sleep cycle which meant I was usually up all night, in front of my computer. When I got hungry I had to sneak two stairs down, past the bedroom of my easily disturbed mother, down to the kitchen on the ground floor where the fridge was located. And always it was filled mostly with stuff you had to prepare first, or at least pop into the microwave — which was a no-no as it would wake up mom.
So I grabbed what was closet to the food I was urging, like a slice of bread when I was eager for some grilled turkey with crispy skin and sweet potatoes.

So two requirements of easily getting fat were right out for me: 1) Plenty of food you would love to eat that was 2) easily accessible.

That was back then. Now I live in a two-room dorm apartment where fridge and shelves only feature foodstuff I really really like and are literally just an arm’s length away. But when you study hard on your degree, and I did, you tend to forget to eat because when you have some time on your hands you spend it in bed alone, more often that not, catching up sleep.

And now? I work part-time as colorist (= I sit in front of a computer all day) and when I am not at work, I work at home (= I sit in front of a computer all day) or spend my time relaxing in the café (= I sit in front of my notebook all day, writing blog posts, such as this one). And I don’t call a scale my own, so I always weigh as much as I think I weigh, for the past years always exactly 59 kg.

Well, until I visited my parents and in a curious moment, stepped on their scale. I mean 73 kg?! Are you fucking kidding me?!

It must have been malfunctioning so I refused to accept the numbers it had apparently made up. It’s a digital scale and from experience I know that everything digital enjoys to mess with me. Recently I even crashed my voice-mail-box somehow.

On a totally unrelated note obviously all my pants shrunk about the same amount in laundry. And shirts. And vests. And especially my Hugo Boss suit I got for my prom was affected the worst, so listen people: Having a suit hang in a closet will shrink it beyond wearability — especially around the waist.

And now with Christmas around the corner, incredibly tasty pies at the Café Fingerlos in Salzburg and my new hobby cooking (= melting spiced sugar and adding almonds) I recently pondered that one day I might get fat for real…

That Filly Sunnies is my first attempt at drawing web comics is not quite true. A couple of years ago I started with much enthusiasm “Jay & Peg” featuring Peg, a sarcastic woman with 60′s hairdo and cat-ears loosely based on Lisa, my girlfriend at that time; and Jay, a nerdy slightly dim-witted version of myself. I produced two strips of five panels each. That was it. It looked quite well, yes, but it just took me too long, so I abandoned it after two weeks. If you’re curious you can view by clicking on a thumbnail below.

Last week I was commenting a funny situation, like so many times before, with “This would be an awesome webcomic!” So finally, after all those countless instances I decided that I should act, so I sat down, plugged in my Wacom tablet and began drawing.

I realized pretty quick that a whole strip was just too long for me, hell, I even struggled for two hours with the first panel! I wanted to draw a unicorn with a tie that would give you advice on how to deal with everyday life — provided you’re a unicorn yourself. If you already peeked at my webcomic so far you might have noticed also a stark absence of unicorns. Well, I just can’t draw them properly. Sure, I can draw chubby, cute ones but they just won’t feature enough facial expressions.

So I was sitting there in my despair, trying to express myself via a silly little comic and close to losing my self-confidence for good as the 50th unicorn I attempted to draw didn’t look like one I got a text-message from Conny, featuring a small ASCII art with a caption, “bunny with glasses”. That was cute! So I tried to draw a bunny instead and, to my surprise, it became Benny. Despite the sad fact that the first few of my comics simply aren’t funny I kept on drawing until I had four or five. That’s what I had learned from my first web comic experience: Keep it simple so you don’t have to spend eight to ten hours to draw a single strip. That’s also the reason I settled for single-panel comics.

Another good reason why I started drawing comics (or writing this very blog-post right now, for that matter) is procrastination. Yes, I should deliver a very comprehensive tutorial for AEtuts+ in two weeks and despite the fact that my script for it is already more than 2000 words long, I just can’t get myself to work on it while I still have time for it. Instead I doodle comics. I tell you, there’s nothing like a quick fix of accomplishment when you need to get other, bigger things done. I guess that’s why procrastination is so dangerous: Its little highs are addictive as fuck!

And now? According to my WordPress stats I have no viewers at all (apart from my own 30 visits a day to my site), I have set myself the crazy goal to post a new comic every day and for the latest one (that will go online on December 11th) I spent about three hours, including crafting a low-poly scene and character in Maya so I would get the perspective in my drawing right.

When will I ever learn…?

But hey — what are you still doing here?! Click the bird (he’s called Stanley, by the way) and read some comics!

While I was spending the night cleaning up and UV layouting a scene in Maya I felt a the urge to check my mail. So I logged on Yahoo! to check whether I got some more r*0*l*e*x and v14gr4 spam mails to get rid off, usually no more than 2 or 4. but today it was different. When you have suddenly 68 new emails from one day to another in your inbox then either something great or something terrible has happened to you.

Luckily for me, it was something great. One of my videos I uploaded to YouTube more than a year had gained stardom by getting featured on the German YouTube main page — top rank and seven thousand new views within a day — I was breathless. And it really made me think about producing an English version, at least with subtitles, so that people all over the world may enjoy the magic and beauty of the History of Typography, made within four days from the first spark of the idea to the final mastering on DVD.

So thanks to all of you who have watched and enjoyed it, I really appreciate every comment (well, apart from the derogatory bullshitty ones). If you don’t know it, you feel like watching some infotainment about typography and are not scared off by a German voice over feel free to hit the play button!

But what about the humble customers who already bought HD-DVD players? Like me, for example. What shall I do now with my HD-DVD drive? With five HD-DVD movies? With my soul I sold to HD-DVD? The answer is simple: Wait five years then put it as technological obscurity on eBay (including my soul).

But the trembling is over and I shall rest now in peace with my creative juices unleashed. Just click on the post-thumbnail to see Ken Kutaragi winning over Atsutoshi Nishida. Or watch the embedded video ¹. Or both. Good night.

Although we had to queue up to get our tickets I bought over the internets we were lucky with the seat. Somewhat. You probably noticed that there’s no plural. But I didn’t mind standing because I had a better view and taking photos felt more natural. Additionally I was able to use one of the columns as cheap tripod. It turned 8pm and no Chuck there yet. So we kept on waiting among the people who took turns to order “two beers” at the bar. Book-groupies and The Cult members everywhere were eager to meet their idol.

But how do you pronounce Chuck Palahniuk? [Pah-lae-nik] the evening’s moderator said and a bald Chuck in a grey suit with flip-flops sat down between the moderator Bernhard Robben and the German (also voice) actor Johann Nikolussi who read out passages from Chuck’s latest book Rant.

Chuck is a very nice and very fun guy, we learned quickly, and he has a very distinct way of telling stories, especially when they involve himself. Usually he smirks, leans forward to the microphone and beams at the audience. Then he looks around beginning very slowly and emphasizing important passages and continues not much faster.

During the course of the first set of questions Chuck Palahniuk explained how he got into writing. “I wanted to become immortal, I wanted to become famous and I wanted to become rich. And with that in mind I began writing my first book that flopped.”. The more we learned about Chuck the more we realized that many of his books are composed of autobiographic details.

I was a driver for a hospice and drove dying people to their self-help groups and back to the hospice. And during those meetings I was sitting a little aside waiting to bring some of them back home. And because all the people were dying of some disease they thought that I was too, because I just sat there along with them. But, you know, you can’t tell them that you don’t. ‘No, I’m just a tourist’ – you can’t say that, that’s rude! And that was the starting point for my next book called Fight Club.

About the writing style of his latest book, which is an assembly of more than 50 different people’s points of view, Chuck said that it is much easier to create a fake “reality” by using bits and pieces rather than by a coherent narrative flow.

People nowadays grew up with movies and can read film language. You see a picture. And then another one. And another one. And you construct the narrative in your mind by yourself, you don’t want to get taken by your nose and guided through it. But today many people still write in this 19th century fashion: ‘She heard nothing of him. Two weeks later…’ etc. You don’t need this kind of connections.

[...]

Making people believe they are witnessing a documentary of any kind makes it much easier to give it a real touch. It’s the way Welles’ War of the Worlds works or The Blair Witch Project.

Another thing is that you can easily watch or read small pieces of a huge thing like some people’s personal view on a certain event instead of trying to recreate it as a solid whole. It’s just a small bit. And you don’t mind having another one. It’s like popcorn.

Palahniuk was asked what he thought about the local fight clubs that had emerged after his book and that, especially after the adaptation with Pitt and Norton, had popped up increasingly all around the world, and if he is afraid what will happen when people try out the things he invents in his books.

I don’t make things up. All the things I write about have happened somewhere to somebody. They are all around us, but we don’t want to know. But I think it is important to write about those things.

[...]

When I was in London a well-groomed guy in a suit came up to me and wanted to talk about Fight Club.
“The thing you wrote about in your book about urinating in people’s food in restaurants… I am a waiter in one of London’s finest restaurants… and we do it all the time!”.
I was like What? and he just smiled shyly. “What restaurant?” I asked him and he replied
“I can’t tell you or I will loose my job”. And I said:
“Then I am not going to sign your book!”. He stood there, looked at me, having a hard time and finally said: “There are two five star restaurants in London…” — pause —
“Margaret Thatcher ate my sperm.” – “WHAT?” – “At least five times”.

[...]

So you see those things are out there no matter I write about them or not.

After about ninety minutes and after hearing the complete chapter 16, a detailed description of “Party Crashing”, we were honored by hearing a new and unpublished short story from Chuck called Cold Calling only to be read out at this very place and not to be published anywhere. Could this be true? Of course it wasn’t according to an article in the Austrian newspaper Kurier that said he also read it out there the day before. What a charming son of a bitch!

But today’s session was no traditional reading. After hearing chapter 16 read out flawlessly by Nikolussi it was the audience’s turn to ask Chuck some questions while he smiled and took out a couple of envelopes with something written on them. It took people nearly a minute to become bold enough to ask.

“Thank you for asking me a question” Chuck said “I just handed you an envelope with a card on which my address is written. If you send it to me I’ll send you back a little surprise present as a way to thank you.”
“Any more questions?” Bernhard Robben asked and now more hands were raised, eager for that surprise from Chuck.

“I just hope it’s not a cut-off ear or something” I said to Lisa afterwards. “That wouldn’t surprise me from this guy”

The question asker stated that he writes on parties too, like Chuck wrote portions of Fight Club. He wanted to know if it had ever happened to Chuck that he couldn’t remember the next day what he had written the day before. Chuck took a deep breath and started another story:

I take these pills called Ambien when on a long flight. They make you forget, it’s like you have a hole in your memory. And before checking into the hotel there was a long line on the airport waiting at the security check. So I took a pill that I would forget about it. And after a couple of minutes I didn’t feel anything so I took another one.

The next day I woke up in my bed. And somebody had scattered sandwiches across my bed, mayonnaise, salad, bread, the whole stuff, and had only eaten out the ham and the cheese… And I suspected that it was me. And I couldn’t remember a thing. I called the reception if I had ordered room service the night before. ‘Not after 10pm’ the receptionist said ‘but the bar sells sandwiches. Well, I went to talk to the barkeeper whether I had bought any sandwiches last night. ‘You bought all of them’ he said.
I have to add at this point that I like to sleep naked.
‘Was I wearing any… shoes?’ I asked him. ‘No.’
‘Was I wearing any… clothes?’ – ‘No.’
And I learned that I didn’t use the elevator and walked fourteen floors naked with eight sandwiches to my room where I ate only the good parts.

“So do you still take these pills?” the guy with the question asked.
“Yes!” Chuck said with glowing eyes.
“But now I sleep in my underwear”

Wie geht es mit Sie?

After the session many people brought their books to Chuck’s table and wanted him to sign them as the highlight of the (rather short) evening. Lisa and I carried two Fugitives and Refugees and one Survivor with us. But shame on us: We purchased the books the day before in Graz and only knew their beginnings. And Fight Club was out of stock everywhere.

So we cued up, were asked for our names by an assistant to Mr. Palahniuk who wrote them on slips of paper in big letters and placed them on the page where Chuck would sign. He seemed rather familiar with signing books and got ready by unpacking a bouquet of fake flowers, a veil and a big box with a lot of ball-pens out of his bag and placed them in reach. Lisa and I giggled and wondered about the mysterious flowers and veil.

I was first and because Chuck is a nice guy he wrote something different in their books for everybody along with his signature. He even knew a few German phrases and signed Survivor with “Für Phil – 1-2-3 Testen Sie sich. Chuck Palahniuk” (“For Phil – 1-2-3 test yourself”). because the book starts with “Testing… 1-2-3… testing 1-2-3″.

On the cover of Fugitives and Refugees a bunch of Santa Clauses are pictured — I don’t know why yet. Chuck wrote “Ho, ho, ho Santa Phil – You. Chuck Palahniuk”. I thanked him and smiled and then it was Lisa’s turn. He signed “Für Lisa – Wie Geht es mit Sie? Chuck Palahniuk.”, (“For Lisa – How is it going with you?”) grammatically completely wrong and hence just adorable. Lisa bravely asked for a photo.
“Sure!” he said and pulled her behind his table where he handed her the fake bouquet, equipped her with the veil and smiled like James Bond next to her. Lisa just married Chuck Palahniuk ¹! I took two photos, shook his hand and we thanked each other.
“One second longer and I would’ve gotten majorly jealous!” I said to Lisa while walking out.

What a great day!

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If you’re already familiar with it then you can skip this paragraph which is intended for my international readers.

When an Austrian traffic light is about to switch from “go” to “stop” then the green light begins to blink four times, a second each, then for three seconds the yellow light appears and then – finally – red. When “stop” is becoming “go” the yellow light accompanies the red light for a second before only green is there again. (see illustration below) Strange for some foreign folks, pretty comfortable when you’re used to it.

You don’t have to be alert every time when approaching an intersection. I always realize the difference when I am cruising in Germany: No blinking, no red+yellow before green again.

I’ve read today that Vienna is planning a test phase with unblinking traffic lights in early 2008, maybe in Austria in general — talk about international standards!

If I was Transportation Secretary

Here are some suggestions for some new traffic laws I want to push through:

• I want to turn right at intersections when it’s possible -regardless of some silly colored light.
• Everybody has to drive as fast as the vehicle allows (take that inapt drivers with fat cars!) This will empty the streets of pedestrians and pimped cars pretty fast. Plus there’ll be more parking spaces afterwards.
• One-ways change their direction randomly
• Traffic lights will have additional colors such as purple (= turn your radio down), pink (say something cute to your co-driver or vehicle next to you) and blue (check glove compartment for guns)
• Onboard weaponery is now allowed, but restricted to something “non-mass-destruction-y” because of the somewhat nervous Bush administration in the US of A.
• Tanks and airplanes are now part of urban traffic
• Federally sponsored bi-annual checkpoint races across the city
• Everybody may draw their own road signs
• If someone says that you just stole her/his parking place, a fistfight will decide

Vote Promenade!

I was taken by suprise, Lisa looked unknowingly at me while I was stuttering “Five?” – “No, that’s wrong… but you get one other chance!”. While I was trying to delay them with conversational rubbish I typed with one hand “michael jackson grammies” into the google search bar. “Seven?” – “That is correct! [insert loud music from Thriller here]“. They said that they gonna drop by my room around noon with flowers, drinks and the money. From Room 533. There are freaks out there… I just hope they won’t show up for real and want beer or something!