Nikki LeDree

I will now make my triumphant return to blogging! I can say with some happiness, if not happiness then a slight contentment that my neglect this time was not down to laziness. I simply didn’t really have anything to say or felt that there was nothing to be said. Inevitably this post will be a general update as it has been so long and I don’t really have anything of importance to say…

I am still reading Hitch 22 after pining for it for so long I think I just don’t want to finish it too quickly. It’s a pleasant thing to have a bit of Hitchens waiting for me. I have constrained myself to reading it only in my lunch breaks at work. Probably not the best thing as it always makes me spacey and contemplative afterwards. Work is just as bland and uninteresting as ever. There was a bit of trouble a little while ago with my hours and by that I mean I wasn’t getting any but it seems that has been resolved. So now I can spend more time thinking about jamming my pen in my eye because it would be more exciting and less painful than my job. I exaggerate. It’s not that bad and it pays my bills. That is all I care about when it comes to a job. I’m not one of these people that has to have a career. My job isn’t my life or my passion and I kind of like that in an odd way. I like having job time and free time and the two being completely different.

I have been drawing a ton. Well lots for me anyway. My graphic novel is starting to resemble… well a graphic novel. A whole chapter nearly done. It’s taking forever and I’m so pitifully slow but fuck I’ve never felt happier. In general and as an artist. Being satisfied with what you’re producing as an artist is amazing. Add to that not feeling like what you’re doing is pointless or complete bullshit. I’ve recently had a surge of times where I’ve had to explain it to people. People asking if I’ve finished my uni course yet and reminding them that no I have in fact quit. They then tell me what a shame it is that I’ve given up on the whole art thing. Trying to explain my growing contempt for the fine art industry and that I still draw every single day (more than I ever did when I was at uni) is a difficult task. I sound so eloquent in my head and then when I open my mouth the wrong words come out and I just feel frustrated that I can’t express myself better. If I say I want to be a graphic novelist they think that I want to be published and become rich and famous from it. I don’t give a flying fuck about making money from my drawings. I want people to read and enjoy my stories. I’ve always said that if I ever become successful at it (my definition of successful), it will be measured in fanart. Someone else drawing my characters cause they like my stories would just be un-fucking-believable.

My life time goal with my art is to always be improving. Speaking of improving my Japanese is coming along. I now know about 100ish words. That’s know the kanji, how to say them, how to spell them. I am rather pleased with myself. I can put together very simple sentences as well. I’ve just got to stick with it. I still get really excited when I know what words are in anime and songs. For father’s day I wrote 父の日おめでとう (chichi no hi omedetou) on the back of my dad’s present which mean’s happy father’s day. I loved that I knew what each bit meant on their own. Simple things like that please me. I get asked about my Japanese sometimes in my lunch break because I have these flashcards that I made and often study them then. The first question is always oh are you studying it at university? To which I reply no and then the following question is always why are you doing it then? It makes me wonder if they would ask that question if I were doing it at university. As if doing something for a piece of paper has more credence than doing it for the enjoyment and pleasure of it.Bollocks.

I believe (some, hell most) degrees are becoming worthless. So many people have them now and not because of their skills or merits. All you have to do really is turn up and hand something in when you have to. I got good grades while I was at uni, mostly first’s. I worked hard for it. I’m not the greatest public speaker and have panic attacks sometimes (once I had once in the middle of an assessment which wasn’t the most enjoyable experience of my life) so my work had to be pretty good. Other people could talk their way into a grade. I also did an essay made up of words and sentences cut and paste from other essays and sources. It wasn’t a copy though. I made it make sense; well I made it read like English. But the contents were complete bollocks. The sort of vacuous shit you see said about art in magazines. I got a first. This was the moment that I decided the course had no integrity. It really hit me that this thing I was trying to get this bit of paper was totally worthless to me.

I will end that rant here before it becomes a bit of an essay. /rant as I like to say. Alas it’s so late. I will cut this post short.

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I read quite a bit of manga and usually have several series on the go as well as reading the odd one shot now and then. I must admit that I do most of my manga reading online which I feel guilty about at times. I know all too well the effort that goes into creating one. I endeavoured to make up for my terrible freebie taking habit by at least buying the mangas that I truly enjoyed. You know a manga just has to be good when I read the whole thing online and still buy it.

I stumbled across Vassalord while looking for a trashy vampire manga to read. I skipped it quite a few times because of the name which in my head read as lord of vaseline. I kept on seeing it being updated though and thought I’d give it a quick look over. The first page with a naked dripping wet long haired man made me think I knew exactly where this was going, especially with the yaoi tag. I am pleased to say that I was totally wrong.

The story focuses on the relationship between a (very) sexy vampire named Johnny Rayflo (when I imagine a vampire I imagine him) and a half vampire cyborg named Charley Chrishunds who fights crimes and hunts vampires for the vatican.

The bloody fight in the opening scene between them made me want to jump up and down I was so happy. Chrono understands vampires. First of all they actually seem to be interested in blood and it’s a sexual kind of thing. I’ve said it before and I shall repeat myself; blood should be a sexual thing for a vampire, that’s the point. She also includes some good ol’ vampire mythology as well which is always a plus in my eyes. Too many series stray too far from the mythology and if you do that you just end up with twilight fairies.

I want to get this out of the way early on. I effing love the style of these books. Nanae Chrono’s artwork is so beautiful and detailed. I simply adore it. Even if the story of Vassalord wasn’t any good (it is) I would still buy these books. There’s a very distinctive style to her work but it’s kind of subtle, not like Hirano, but there is defiantly something unique about it. One criticism for the artwork is that in more complex scenes it’s sometimes hard to tell exactly what’s going on.

I love that it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Chrono isn’t afraid to add a bit of silliness or hilarity into the wonderfully gothic style story. I really thought I could figure out what Johnny was going to be like as a character from his looks, and while he does fit that over confident, devilish kind of personality I couldn’t have guessed how funny and sensitive he is at times throughout the books. The way he teases Charley is endearing rather than annoying like the way he always calls him Cherry.

I must admit I did not like the design of Charley upon first seeing him. I mean the hair… but he has grown on me. I think it was the scene with Rayfelle that made me really start to like him. His serious demeanour is a perfect contrast for Rayflo’s free and easy personality and his devotion to Rayflo is incredibly sweet rather than obsessive. The flashback to when he was a child is so cute (yeah that’s right I said cute).

The characters aren’t your usual effeminate pretty pretty anorexic type you usually see in a “shonen ai” type of manga which earns extra brownie points from me. Guys that look like guys and act like blokes, huh well that different. When it comes to the whole BL thing I like characters that don’t fit into those typical seme – uke roles that make me want to stab myself in the eye.

The story has an over arching plot with lots of smaller stories intertwined. As the books go on it seems to be turning into a detective kind of story, not that that’s a bad thing at all. There’s a strong For some reason I find myself getting strong Cowboy Bebop vibes from it. Johnny reminds me of Spike somewhat and Craig makes me think of Jet.

I think the books take a few read throughs to get everything. I think some of the story could have been explained a bit clearer but I must admit I did get a certain amount of satisfaction when I noticed things I didn’t on the first read through. For example in the very beginning Johnny is talking to Barry on the phone. All in all Vassalord is very enjoyable and highly underrated in my opinion.

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I have now been alive for 21 years. I have reached the official age of adulthood. Ever since I was little I can always remember wanting to be 21. It represented some kind of freedom for me, a point where I would be living my own life. Where I could do everything I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. It feels like I’ve reached the end of something. The so called “best years of my life” are over and yet all I feel is the best is yet to come. I’ve never felt happier than I am right now. I am living with someone who I love deeply, I have good friends who I adore and I indulge myself in whichever one of my passions takes my fancy on a daily basis.

I’ve never understood people that say they don’t have time to do the things that they love. Not having money I can understand but time? You make time for things you want to do. If I didn’t I would be so depressed. I think not owning a TV helps with the time thing. My parents waste a lot of time in front of the box in my opinion. Whenever my mum says that she doesn’t have time to read I tell her that throwing away the TV would give her plenty of time to read. Or if she’s not feeling that dangerous then perhaps switching it off.

Anyway I’m getting off topic. I spent my birthday out with friends. We drank wine, ate curry and wore party hats. Many a lol was had. Everyone drew pictures in a birthday card which pleased me greatly. I wore my party hats like a bra and embarrassed everyone including myself but wearing it on my head would have been far worse, I think everyone can agree on that. It was amazing.

The next evening it was off out to dinner with the family. We went to the same place we went to when I was 18. I can’t remember the name of it. The cock and something or other I think. The food in there is pretty damn good. We were at a table in the middle of a few other tables. The people sitting at them didn’t seem to appreciate our conversations very much. My dad would start with a “Did you know there’s a swingers club up the road from our house?”. Heads started turning from other tables. “This bloke at work went there and had sex with a…” He paused trying to think of the correct way to describe her “MILF?” I asked “No more like an old bird. While he was giving her a seeing to her husband was in the corner having a wank, so the bloke was giving it the whole porn star bit, you know slapping her arse and posing” – cue impression-. We all laughed. I said “I hope you aren’t suggesting a family day out”. (I think it’s clear where I get my odd perverted sense of humour from).

My mum piped up with an anecdote of her own about how the pensioners she works with on a computer training course just look at porn all day. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff they go on!” she said. Well good on them. I do so love my family, even if the other people in the restaurant didn’t. It was good to see them again. My grandad had bought me a cake which was lovely. I ate a big slice even though I had already had a 2 course meal and desert.

A neighbour bought me a bottle of champagne as a present which has now been enjoyed. My grandad bought me a 21 key and gave me some money which I am very grateful for. My friend Sam-chan bought me Team Fortress 2 because he’s epic. My parents got me a little bear and a 21 wine glass and perfume.

Tom bought me Hitch 22. I have it at last! I can now go to bed with both Christopher Hitchens and Stephen Fry, oh how happy I am.

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I don’t really think of myself as being particularly poor. I get by. It wasn’t until I went to Amazon to buy Hitch 22 and realized that I didn’t have enough money to get the book that it dawned on me, maybe I wasn’t as well off as I thought. How ridiculous. “It’s is not the man who has too little, but but the man who craves more that is poor”. I know I don’t have to go without. I can buy the book second hand or go to the library but I have a prejudice again this.

It’s also why I had a reluctance to get a kindle (when I had a bit of money to throw around). There’s a certain aesthetic lacking in it. All the technology wank that it carries that makes a certain part of my brain ooze with excitement can’t match the feeling of a book. If technology makes my brain ooze, the feel and smell of a new book makes it orgasm. Notice how I say new book. How perverted I feel confessing my love of virgin books and getting off on the fact that no one has touched them before. No one has thumbed through the pages before me. They haven’t dog eared the pages. The book hasn’t been carried around in the bottom of a bag to make the page edges blunt. I always feel guilty looking through books in shops. Letting the entirety of the book fan past my thumb as the words inside are just a blur past my eyes.

The smell of a second hand book doesn’t appeal to me. Even less so when it’s not something I am completely enamoured with like Christopher Hitchens. My admiration for him has been growing quite steadily until recently where it is fast becoming a full blown passion. I think this is why I feel this bourgeois need to buy his books new.

I find it strange how I can be so particular about aesthetics and smell when it comes to books but with art I am quite different. I welcome and embrace technology. Almost everything I do is done on the computer and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I adore my Cintiq. I’m glad I chose to have it instead of a car. (People everywhere should be rejoyceing that I don’t drive. There is no doubt in my mind that I would be some kind of road hazard). My acceptance of the computer in art might be related to my hatred of these elitist’s I met while at university. These painters (you say ‘painters’ like you just swallowed a spoonful of turpentine) that would only use oil paints and believed that if you didn’t make your own canvas you weren’t a true artist. The theorist’s (you say ‘theorist’s like you just drank a cold cup of tea) that vomited words without saying anything. The same people that told me my essays were insightful and gave me firsts when all I had done was cut and pasted words together in a Dada style rage.

I don’t understand these people. I understand how art works. How the sickly child heir of fine art, postmodernism, works. I wouldn’t have gotten nearly all firsts if I didn’t. It is all too easy to do. The state of art is heading further and further into entropy where upon we can only work backwards. It can only implode in on itself.

I watched an interview with Doug TenNapel, who we have to thank for Earthworm Jim so you know he’s something of a legend. He was talking about doing one of his graphic novel’s on the cintiq. He said how it was better, more efficiant and faster. He praised it up but then he said how he didn’t like the aesthetic of it. How it didn’t give him the rush of excitement. How the marks he made weren’t absolute. How after he was done for the day he didn’t have to wash the ink out from under his fingernails. “You don’t get pixels under your fingernails”. I wanted to be outraged at this. I wanted to call him an elitist wanker but I couldn’t. There was something pure about the way he spoke. Something so real it took me by suprise. It made me remember that people I hate in art sometimes over shadow people with real talent and a real passion.

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I just finished watching  Togainu No Chi. The anime is some what different to the game, though I have never played it. From what I gather the game centres on everyone taking their turns with Akira like he’s the village bike. I heard quite a lot of buzz about the anime from various yaoi sources (not that I know anything about that… of course). It wasn’t until I heard the crys of the fangirls complaining that there was in fact no yaoi action that I decided to watch it. That and only having read half the manga.

The story focuses on Akira, a guy sentenced to life in prison after being falsely accused of murder. He is visited by a one armed woman named Emma who says that the charges will be dropped if he goes to Toshima and takes part in a game, run by the organization Vischio, called Igra and defeats the current king Il-re. Igra is like a poker game but with dog tags. You can only fight Il-re after you have a full house or whatever and you get the tags by killing other people for them. Fun times.

I liked the anime though I think the version I watched was somewhat censored which is a real shame. I’m all for over the top blood and gore in anime. I’m talking about the Hellsing kind of bloody slaughter that is just too over the top to feel real. I felt the ending was somewhat lazy and the anime really could have done with a few more episodes to flesh things out a bit more.Motomi and Rin are pretty much skimmed over here compared to the manga. As well as getting a feel for how things are run in Toshima. The manga does a better job of this. A personal complaint- there is less Gunji in this and I love him. He is a complete nutcase. He has a crazy ass voice in the anime as well which I’m undecided on weather I like it or not. Cue cue to me. The only thing that made me glad was when he called out “Neko-chan!”.

I really, really hated Akira in the beginning but somehow I ended up warming to him and then hating him again in the end. The same with Keisuke. Even though anyone with half a brain could figure out right from the start that he was going to take Line it didn’t piss me off when it happened. I was actually rooting for Keisuke to kill Akira for being so selfish. Akira is so blank. I mean I get the cool, silent, irreverent character type but really, Shiki does a better job of that. Ah Shiki that blood thirsty bondage samurai. They really should have fleshed him out a bit more then maybe the ending would make a bit more sense and feel less rushed. They could have at least given more time to show his relationship with N (no not that one ha) or Nano or Nicole whatever his name is. Nano has the best voice. It’s so unsettlingly calm, perfect for him.

I may have many a complaint about the anime, the sloppy animation for one and how everyone walks like a robot (domo arigato mr roboto). This is a general anime thing though it seems particularly bad here. Sometimes when people are talking their mouths arn’t moving and it’s not a bad sound- video sync. It’s lazy. Still, I found it very entertaining. I never felt bored while watching it and it gets the story across. I think a lot of people that say they hate it are those that watch it expecting it to be some kind of yaoi-fest like the game. It easily stands on it’s own without that.

Some Gunji Love

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Merry Christmas and a Happy New year to one and all. Now that that is out of the way I can get to telling you how inevitably shit it all was. Ha. Christmas eve eve, yes that’s an official Christmas day, my dad was doubled over in pain on the bathroom floor having just had every liquid in his body ejected from within him. An ambulance was called and I was confined to the kitchen to watch the dogs while he was stretchered out. Mum went with him and I was at the house on my own. There was some Jackie Chan film on the Telly which I half watched and half worried about my dad while googling the names of the ailments he has, Diabetes, Diverticulitis, Hiatus Hernia, Vomiting… I slept on the sofa awaiting a call from my mum which came at about 8 in the morning. There was no real news. They were doing tests on him and scanning and x raying him. She decided that she would return home to sleep and then we would go visit him.

Thankfully he was alright. Looked a bit ill and vulnerable with a drip and tubes and needles sticking out of him but he seemed to be himself. He complained he hadn’t had anything to eat and needed a fag. So all was well. Turns out he had caught some kind of bug but because of all the other things he has there were complications and he was for want of a more technical phrase epically constipated. My mum quipped to everyone “I always knew he was full of shit haha”. They said they might need to keep him in over Christmas to which he replied “I’m not fucking spending Christmas here”. Fair play.

He was able to spend Christmas at home. My mum and grandad went and picked him up around lunch time. So I guess things turned out alright in the end. It was good spending time with my family, as it always is. Mum, dad and grandad. I love you all. I came back the day after boxing day feeling a bit… not quite right but I hadn’t eaten much that day so I went to tescos to buy a ready meal (Tom was still away in France and as my culinary skills are quite sub-par, I have an overwhelming laziness when it comes to cooking, these were my only options). I decided on a curry as it was easy and I hadn’t had one in ages. Walking back I got a call from my dad asking if I was feeling alright. I said I felt a bit funny but didn’t think anything was wrong. He told me that mum was sick and throwing up.

It wasn’t long before I too was shitting water and throwing up the lining of my stomach up. As I lay shivering on the bathroom floor with blankets and pillows around me I thought about how bad an idea that curry was. I was completely unable to get warm. It’s such an odd feeling not being able to get warm. Dad came over to look after me. It was a huge comfort having him there. He gave me his insulated hat and fleece to wear. Pulling the hat down on top of my head and trying to fold the rim up so that I could still see, as I shouted “I’m going to be sick again! Get out! Get out!”. Dad doesn’t have the stomach for that kind of thing so it was more for his benefit than mine.

After a while I moved to my bed as we watched some comedy thing on my laptop. I think it’s the first time in a long time I’ve hugged my dad properly. It felt like a nice father daughter moment and I found it touching. I think we’re both as awkward as each other when it comes to one another. He even went and bought me some essential things to eat like bread, milk, eggs…. and oreo’s.

I recovered but still felt pretty bad for a couple of days. I had a week off work though. W00t.

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They finally got me. The adverts. After about the millionth time seeing the same bloody advert for Phoneshop, and the hand shaped dent etched into my face from the millionth facepalm, I decided to watch it. I intended to watch it “for teh lulz” but I couldn’t even do that. This show made me cringe nearly as much as when I saw Tommy Wiseau’s arse in The Room.

How they managed to make six episodes out of this is beyond me. I made it through the first episode and that’s all I could manage. It’s so overacted and none of the characters seem very natural (with the exception of Janine played by Emma Fryer). Ashley and Jerwayne seem to have one personality between them, even going so far as to complete each other’s sentences. Christopher’s character seems to be based on a bad impersonation of David Mitchell only without his charm, charisma and sense of humor; not to mention a big dollop of lovableness. (/fanboying) Something all of the characters lack. Lance is just plain bland and seems really out of place.

The only character I liked was Janine. She had the makings of her own personality that was quirky but not in an in your face way. I also feel that she is the only one that can act. Something about her awkwardness reminds me of Noel Fielding as well. I cannot quite put my finger on it.

Any jokes in this episode that weren’t terrible were delivered in such a way that it just made them unbearable. I can see how the idea would look good on paper and some of the things in the episode could have worked. In theory, however, reality is a bitch and that is just not the case.

Well, now that I have relived that trauma I think it’s about time for my therapy session.

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I feel a bit better. Hip hip hoo-ray said Lloyd Asplund style of course. I think my bout of depression has gone now. Just the normal down-ness that comes with everyday life left. I jest of course. I have been doodling lately, so I am happy.

[I apologize again for the terribad picture quality.]

This is a character from a story I wrote shortly after I quit uni. It is basically a creative rant about the art world and my thoughts on it. This guy is called Ataxia.

This is just a doodle of a page from the story. I’m pretty pleased with it though. The girl is called Tastlest and this is her first time meeting Ataxia. Fun times XD

I’m excited that Hellsing Ultimate OVA 8 has finally been announced. It will be out on December 10th. Let’s see if they stick to the date this time. I will still have to wait for t to be subbed in English though.

My Japanese is getting marginally better. My vocabulary has improved loads thanks to smart.fm’s Japanese Core 2000. I’m still doing Step 1 (and really slowly) but it really does work. I’d definitely recommend it to anyone that’s learning Japanese. I wouldn’t use it on its own though. It’s only really good for vocabulary and learning the kanji. There’s also this cool little game called Brain Speed. Here’s the linkage.

Still my Japanese isn’t good enough to be able to watch Koisuru Boukun OVA 2 without subs. I know I’m a terrible person for liking it but as far as yaoi goes it’s pretty much the top of its game.

And that leads nicely onto the next thing I want to talk about (not). I finished reading Let the Right One in by John Ajvide Lindqvist. I haven’t seen the movies yet and I’m unsure if I want to. I really liked the book. I’m always up for a book about vampires where the vampires don’t fucking sparkle. I don’t think there was a single character in the book that you couldn’t feel sympathetic towards. Even Håkan who is probably the most tragic figure in the book. I must admit that Lacke and Virginia’s relationship really touched me. It was so bitter sweet and you could really feel for the two of them, more so than Oskar and Eli. Their relationship seemed to just jump forwards too fast. It never really seemed like they had that same kind f deep connection like Lacke and Virgina. Though saying that they are only meant to be 12 years old.

The book kept me interested throughout even though it had a ton of different characters and different interwoven stories. Pretty much all of the characters seemed fleshed out and were their own person as well. So yeah. Definitely recommend it. There are some gory scenes and things that I think would maybe put people off but I don’t think they’re all that graphic. Not disgustingly graphic at all. I don’t think you can read a vampire book and not expect some blood and gore to be honest. Being a Chuck Palahniuk fan I don’t think there’s much I could read that would shock or appall me.

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I have been quite depressed lately. Not in the ‘the manga I read hasn’t been updated in months QQ’ sort of way but in a way that makes me feel empty inside. Not to be too emo about it, perhaps it can only be fully expressed in pages of blank posts… I jest.

I lost someone close to me about a year ago. My nan who was like a mother to me, my own personal hero and a friend. Bid, that was her nickname. I didn’t feel that bummed out about it at the time. I mean of course I was devastated but now that she has been gone a year I feel the lack of her being here more. I have been crying on and off for a couple of days. The worst being my hour long sob fest last night. I couldn’t speak. My whole body shook. I must have lost pints of water and liters of snot. I don’t know how I would have coped without Tom there.

I awoke the next day and as soon as my eyes opened, and blinked against the morning light, it started again. I managed not to cry at work. My eyes burning from having cried or needing to cry more, I don’t really know which. It’s the kind of depression where what you feel isn’t pain. It’s just the absence of anything. The absence of that spark that drives you, that motivates you, that makes you feel like you are here.

I’m not suicidal or anything like that. I’ve been down that road and made a sharp u turn just before the cliff edge. I’ve never been very good at expressing what I feel. I know that the way I feel now I will get over it. I will make my peace with it again and resume my own sense of normality.

Increasingly my thought’s go back to her. The wanting to hear her advice, to talk to someone that just understood me. With everyone else, I always feel lost in translation. My beetle and your beetle are not the same. We were quite similar to one another, though separated by a good number of years, and this gave me some sense of comfort. A feeling that I wasn’t alone. I struggle to define this loneliness to people and I always seem to offend people when I try.

She gave me a book to read ages ago, long before she died. It’s called ‘Keeping the World Away’. I haven’t read it but reading the blurb on the back it’s so our kind of thing. An artsy thing that no one else seems to understand. This force that drives me to be creative, to draw, write, paint; the same thing drove her. That why, I think, we understood each other so well. This book. Looking at it really makes me happy but at the same time, it breaks my heart.

I will read it when I get over my crying phase. When I am a bit more at peace with things and my head is cleared. I’m crying as I write this. I must make sure not to flood my keyboard…

I can never sum up my feelings about her in just a post or a thousand posts because of how much she meant to me but I guess what I’m trying to say is,

I miss her.

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