I need an Assassin to assassinate an asinine Art Tool

So.

There's this thing that's been bugging me. It's called a bamboo tablet and I have one. Silly thing is I have less control over the medium on the tablet than I do on good ol' paper and I gotta say, the old ink and paper method, the Joe Kubert tried and true style, is where I'm best at-- I'm just old school like that. That being said, I do want to give tablets another try when I can muster enough chump change to purchase a Cintiq, which in my opinion, is as close to digital ink and paper as you can get. I think I'll still ink my pages by hand, but maybe I'll try to sketch out the roughs on a Cintiq before then print to proceed.

Now then.

Shown here are some of my recent/unpublished tablet craptasterpieces I had laying around with a full reasoning of why and how. I'll start posting my old sketchy favorites that no one but I have seen after this.

This is a character I've had since forever. She's a work of art, but this is not. NEVER try to do a spontaneous 1am tablet poster when you haven't drawn the character in months. I actually FORGOT she had an eyepatch and fingerless gloves when I did this. Then I added the eyepatch. Not the gloves though. This is a realistic version of why I hate that damn tablet. The tablet itself is just a black board that you draw on, but when you use it you have to get accustomed to drawing not where you're looking. Thankfully, when I get that Cintiq, it has a screen that you actually draw ON, much unlike this bamboo shit

I wanted to draw something random as hell with just an eraser and a base color. No idea why I drew a gator who turned into a samurai. Maybe it was the cereal I was eating at the time or maybe it was an amalgamation of dream-like warriors I had forgotten and ended up creating. Hmmm...actually I may've just stumbled upon a great story: Gator Samurai, Savior of the Swamp. Hahaha

After reading a whole bunch of noir tales, working on my graphic novella, and spending oodles of time with my girlfriend, I decided to draw one of my favorite creations, Fantine, in a particularly shadowy setting. I was fucked around with the dodge tool on this and screwed up her hair. She'd beat me if she was real. The only thing I really like about this picture is that name plate I drew at the top. Been reading too much Brandon Graham shit

So this is a super-late night attempt at a comic on the tablet with no idea where the story was going and no idea what I was drawing other than drawing what I wanted to. It was supposed to be part one of a Valentine's day gift comic, hence all the love and heart themes, but my loved one came over too quickly and I had no time to finish it. This one's for you, pie of cute

Drawn for my facebook during a particularly Pokemon week for me. I was experimenting with layers, little to no solid black lines, and cool, manga effects-- came off rather how I hoped it would with a few exceptions. The pokeball turned into an evergrowing disaster the more I worked on it. My throw hand looks like crap. For a cheshire ghost, Gengar sure is stiff. Also, I wanted to give Gengar a nickname but didn't think anyone would get his name out of context. My Gengar's name is Gengarvitis-- could never spell that shit in the game because it was one letter too long

"I got secrets a plenty..."

I definitely wasn't trying for a double entendre when I wrote that title after I decided to post this picture, but it came natural, and it felt natural, and it works better than anything else. Aside from that, these are from my neo-fairy tale project. They're the highly stylized fairy tale princesses we all grew up with, but as adult as the fairy tales originally depicted them. This takes me to a certain point I'd love to express: diluted classics.

The quote/un-quote classics of yesterday have become severely diluted from their original flavor. The Little Mermaid for example. In the original Hans Christian Anderson tale, a mermaid sells her voice to a sea witch to be with someone she lusts after, even going so far as to endure the constant pain from walking as a side effect of the spell. She is then dated, left for another woman, and turns into seafoam. The original is a SAD FUCKING TALE.

The Disney version though is a childish take where the mermaid, Ariel, winds up with the man she's always been after and the sea witch is the enemy through and through. No seafoam, no heartbreak, no REAL morals. It was a money making venture into culturing kids into thinking the world is bright and cheery and there's always a villain.

After Disney remade the Little Mermaid, Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli made one too. It's called Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea. Here is where it gets crazy. A kid discovers a sea creature and keeps in in a bucket. He loses it, the sea creature turns out to be Ponyo, a sea princess, and falls in innocent love with the kid. Ponyo unleashes sea magic that caused a) a tsunami and b) Ponyo to turn human. The kid and Ponyo undergo a trial of love and all is better. Though I love Miyazaki for everything he does, and even though Ponyo is an animated achievement back to his hand and paper basics, Ponyo is whack. Enjoyable but whack. It's closer to the original tale, but makes it feel like a Japanese folklore copy.

All I'm saying is, don't stray too far from the original when doing a remake. Otherwise you'll end up like the Watchmen movie, haha.

I absolutely love that tattoo. Her back is the pond itself.

Madame Villeneuve would approve.

I always liked bubbles.

A Spy's Lament

I write this on what is the eve of my birthday. If I was on Eastern Standard, I'd be old enough to drink already. It's not like I even want to drink right now. No no no-- tonight is turning into something bigger than you or I have ever imagined.

The night a man decides for himself where his life will go.

The night a man strips his existence bare and studies it carefully.

The night a man transforms into a better man.

I wandered aimlessly around today after spending a double shift at the job - a bare minimum wage run by drunks, whores, and corporate bigots who want nothing more than obedience, hard-earned time and money, and every employee's soul. I'm here to tell you I'm the secret spy in what is easily to become the new Nazis. I'm the ninja in the shop. The raptor in the long grass. The sith lord in the jedi council. I can go on really. REALLY. I took the job to pass some time and meet people - I did, didn't think I'd be tempted to sell my soul so many times, but I survived somehow. Now that I know the inside of the organization, I've been secretly letting random strangers, hereby deemed my "associates," get away with things they shouldn't be getting away with. Nothing illegal, I assure you. But as I loudly proclaim when my oppressors/"bosses" aren't around: "SHOP AT ANOTHER FUCKING STORE - CONFORMITY IS NOT WORTH YOUR PAYCHECK."

Well, let's get back on track here. After wandering aimlessly around for what seemed like hours, I find that maybe tomorrow is going to be different than I'd imagined. Maybe it won't be anything really. I imagined it a day in remembrance of my life, a kick in the ass, and ending with something similar to blinding clarity/epiphany. Tomorrow is, and will forever be, just another day. No worries, I can deal.

Off tangent: Finished the Warren Ellis run on Thunderbolts today. If you're reading this and planning to read it, then let me let you in on a little secret. Book one doesn't have SHIT on book two. Granted book one , entitled Faith in Monsters [hmm...don't know how I feel about typing that - sounds like my life really], is a very good book with interesting character studies in the insane lunatic minds of superpowered serial killers turned cops. But book two, so aptly named Caged Angels [hmm...fuck Warren Ellis for making titles that sound like my life at this very moment], is a wondrous thunderfuck part two - a romp, rather, where your wildest dreams are answered. The only hint I'll provide is that after THAT book, Thunderbolts Mountain should be christened Arkham Asylum.

On the road yet again. After coming home to absofuckinglutely no one, I went straight back into the world...via the internet. Doing things here and there. Did you know that I was actually interested in other people's lives once? Yeah, weird. Today? Not at all. Shortly after I turned the appropriate age to gamble in Vegas [Eastern Standard], I had a phone conversation with one of my best friends. Turned out to be one of the better conversations about life that I've ever had. I write these words now during a "break" in the life lesson. I'd like to say I taught her a new lesson of life, and she taught me a new life lesson, but the fact of the matter is we both found a new lesson learned just from having a conversation that, undoubtedly, could not be shared with anyone BUT one of your best friends. I think I'll start terming my oddly shaped circle of friends my "Rogue's Gallery." Not because we are what equates to rogues, but because I like the connections it makes with Batman, and a lot of my friends are quite like the friendly faces gracing Detective and Batman comics monthly.

Some more messages to those of you out there.

To you-know-who-you-are: Happy Birthday. Thanks for the conversation/peptalk/life lesson trade/phonecall. It really made my day after having such a shitty day. Your birthday present is being made after I finish this up. I miss you and the next time I see you I'm going to literally hug as much as I can out of you - and then we're going on an adventure into whothefuckcareswherewegosolongaswearegoingsomewheretogether.

To my oppressors/"bosses": Did you see that pick of our old manager I put up? Check it out and then go fuck yourself with something spiked, cold, and spoon shaped. Looks like I got the last laugh --> Hahaha

To the Brian K. Vaughan: WRITE MORE COMIC BOOKS.

To Warren Ellis: I'd love to have lunch and discuss the world and comics through your truly sardonic eyes. Next time I'm in jolly ol' Southend-on-Sea?

To Matt Fraction: More Casanova please.

To whoever-you-are-out-there: I SEE YOU.

To all birthday wishers worldwide: Thanks for the early, on-time, late, and hopefully not, supertwomonthslate birthday wishes. Much obliged and yes, I will drink responsibly. Which is spy code for a fish bowl filled with ice and the best "margarita-type" spirits man can buy - with a side of huge fucking burrito.

Message to myself: Goodnight and good luck.

The History of Spies

I misspelled James Bond one day and this came of it.

For a long time now, I've always wondered how rants start out. Mine starts like this. Others start with the word, rant. Many more just get right into it and bitch about their opinions on matters that, well frankly, don't matter. Why do we 21st century humans have this automatic response to irksome subjects where we must blog, video blog, update our fakebook status, or, heaven forbid, "tweet" our emotions? Ranting is just a fancy term for expressing ourselves. Ranting started long ago when man saw something he didn't like and threw feces or rock-tipped sticks at it. Ranting broadened its horizons when it stepped into the world of art with cave paintings and then more feces and spear throwing as a response. As civilization further evolved, so did ranting - rulers would speak no words, but say many with public executions. Some time after that, ranting became two separate but equal parts as writers and artists decided to take down their emotions, their feelings, their bitching and form books and pictures with them. Ranting even branched into the world of preaching and religion - often called soapboxing because these fed up homeless would stand upon their soapboxes [literally] and shout out loud, "fuck that shit!" As time passed more and more ways to rant, publicly and secretly, developed - ranting technology we'll call it. This includes but is not limited to: a diary, a journal, a television show, a movie, a book, a magazine, NEWSPAPERS, blogs, websites, fuckin' youtube, goddamn twitter, the long forgotten myspace, and the lovely time-waster, facebook.

My favorite of all rant technology ever made is comics. Yeah, makes sense don't it? Comics are a way to voice your opinion to other like minded individuals that comprises both the writing AND drawing aspects of expression/ranting. Comics allow a writer and an artist, a writer/artist [like myself], or a writer, artist, and lots of other helpers to publish their opinions and thoughts. Sure, they come out as adventures, mysteries, and dramas, but they do their job correctly. Comics are made to entertain people for the length of the issue - they always do. What's better than pictures with words, words with pictures? Nothing. Well, Ok. Women and food are better than words and pictures, but you get the point. Comics are amazing. They're books, they're movies, they're toys, they're kickbacks, they're badass, they're old school, they're sexy, they're funny, they're naughty, and they're certainly cool. Can you believe people even forget that comics are still being made?

Here's a story: I was defending myself to this jackass of a peon asshole about what I want to do with my life. Ya' know, small talk to pass an elevator ride with complete strangers. I told the insignificant wretch I'm actually an aspiring comic book writer/artist and want to make comics until I die. He said, verbatim, "they still make that shit? Better find a real job, son." I, in words not suitable for persons age 16 or under, told the man that comics were indeed being made to this day, that he is a total waste of a human being for debasing my life's dream, I'm not and never will be his "son," and that being a comic book writer/artist is an actual job. Of course, the fellow elevator riders heard this as the most profane rebuke to come from a 20-something in an elevator, but at least I got my point across. It was actually accompanied by a small golf clap because I had to tell the same man off earlier for offending a young Mexican mother by calling her, verbatim, "a piece of ass worth a dime-and-a-half." So, the lesson learned here is to never forget comics are being made. As long as I am living, and any other comic readers are living, there will ALWAYS be comics in production to entertain and rant. Words and pictures go together better than peanut butter and grape jelly. Write that down.

Now, a rant.

To Youtube and Twitter: FUCK YOU!

To Fakebook: This relationship between you and I is like most midwestern marriages. It was fun when it started, then it was REALLY a blast, but now you're just something I'm forced to see everyday, and I'm starting to see other people. We'll continue this charade of a marriage for as long as you connect me to my friends, and then I'm divorcing you.

To the government: "I'm MAD as HELL and I'm NOT going to take THIS anymore!!!"

To that-guy-in-the-elevator: I know you'll never read this because you don't know who I am, are probably too illiterate to even read and comprehend this next statement, and are too technologically retarded to even access the web for anything except porn, WoW, and your welfare information. But I just have one thing to say to you: I hope you attempt to sell white girl to a plainclothes, get booked, thrown in the big house, get your salad tossed against your will by a big foreigner by the name of Molly, find that you like it, and become the prison bitch everybody wants a night with.

To The Roots: I think the quote is "bang on."

To Hitchcock: Please come back from the dead and make some movies. Hollywood sucks these days without you, man.

To steampunk girls: If you want a good time, call me.

Included in this essay is a "quick" strip I did. Please enjoy.

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Good morning, Agent [input your number here].

Mr. Boo himself has uploaded his very first comic onto his flickr account. The link to the page is set below.

Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to read and enjoy the comic. Try not to masturbate to it. It was painstakingly plotted, written, drawn, inked, colored, and typed by some poor man in Southern California. It is IMPERATIVE that you spread the news of the comic.

That is all, Agent [input your number here].

PS - Here's the link.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/secretsareforspies/3621760520/

To Be Or Not To Be

Many might not know this but some do. It's just a refreshing release saying this aloud, on the internet. I think more usable metaphors include "a weight has been lifted" or my personal favorite, "the pressure has been released." ANYWAY, now for what I'm getting at...my little secret.

I...
I'm...
I'm actually an international man of mystery.
Yup.
Now it all makes sense.
Doesn't it?
It totally does.

My secret identity is that of Beau Q. I'm two in one - like a frickin' japanese transforming robot car. He flies! He makes jokes! He has 108 points of articulation! He writes and draws comics!

[That's what this is all really about by the way.]

As you can see from above my imagination knows almost no bounds and I write/draw comics. Let me breakdown the history of Beau Q. for you.

I was born in San Diego super long ago which amounts to something like 20, almost 21 years ago. At the age of 2, my Dad taught me how to properly draw a dinosaur. I've drawn every day, at least once a day, from that point. I doodled in all my classes because I always finished my homework in class or just never completed it. My parents split [and subsequently divorced] when I moved to Florida, so every summer I would go to California and enjoy my Asian heritage. In those summers, I found that I loved anything animated. Comics, cartoons, movies, videogames - you name it, I probably knew something of it at a young age. It wasn't until I was a geek in 6th grade that I learned what I really loved about it though.

I loved being entertained by cartoons, comics, movies, videogames, and the like but I would always see one little bit in everything that would make it just soo much better than it is. So my goal in life was born from this thought - "I want to be able to write, draw, and create the perfect comic, the perfect movie, the perfect cartoon, and even the perfect videogame. Not because I'm somewhat more talented than most in this broad field, but because I just want to sit down and read, or play, or watch my creations, and hopefully someone else will see them - maybe even be entertained by them."

So I decided to become a cartoonist. But animation is hard, REALLY HARD. Luckily I'm the freak of nature who has already found his one true calling in life at an early age - comics. See, I never collected comics in the 90s, I just bought some at oen point in my life and stopped. Then, one magical book later [another story] I was introduced into the world of manga [Japanese comics]. I became enamored with several tales and spent days reading volumes in Barnes & Noble when I had the time. Finally, I was reintroduced to American comics with the graphic novel, Identity Crisis [by Brad Meltzer] and fell in love all over again.

I know you're tired of reading this already so let's get down to the main point:

I want to become a comic book writer/artist more than anything. I don't care if I'm famous or not. I don't care if have a huge following or people hate my life's work. I just want someone to read all the ideas I create on a daily basis.

This blog isn't really about me. It's more about my comics. I promise to update as much as humanly possible. I also promise to post all my webcomics on the page so you can find them on my Flickr account.

Tootles!