1) Don't just bring up the concept of elephants using "trunk gloves" and NEVER show them being used. This was an INSULT.

2) Clawhauser received less than 2 minutes of actual screen time.

Saw it in IMAX 3D, though, which was pretty boss.

Scott Mendelson, my brother's co-worker at Forbes, absolutely raves about Zootopia:

http://www.forbes.com/sites/scottme...../#36e615a354ac

I'm both really, really proud and insanely jealous of my brother: he gets to do the coolest stuff, like walk the red carpet at the Oscars, the Age of Ultron, and Ant Man, and interview directors like James Cameron, Guillermo del Toro, and, OH YEAH, Christopher Nolan. Prick (just kidding--wait, no I'm not).

http://www.forbes.com/sites/markhug.....h-anniversary/

In September of 2013, my late partner Chris Wright and I became friends with the artist Janet Biggs. She came to a gem, mineral and fossil show we were set up at in Denver, seeking connections which might help her join an expedition to a cave of gigantic selenite crystals in Naica, Mexico; she was in the process of filming a series of works for a show scheduled for January 2015 at the Blaffer Museum in Houston, Texas, works which dealt with her late grandfather's struggle with Alzheimer's and his love of minerals. We spent a great deal of time with Janet, growing close in a very short span of time, and eventually we helped her connect with a fellow dealer who was headed to the cave in Mexico to film a special for PBS.

After my partner passed away in January of 2014, Janet told me she intended to dedicate the show's central work, "Can't Find My Way Home" to him. Though the trip to Mexico never worked out for either Janet or the other dealer (the mine's owner decided to stop all cooperation with researchers and close the site), she was able to locate a cave of giant halite crystals in Germany that suited her purposes.

Swampstomper and I went to Houston in January to see the show (although a cluster-fuck of epic proportions kept us from attending the Friday night opening, and we missed a chance to see the show with Janet and have dinner with her the following night). It was a very moving experience, and I'm glad we were able to make the trip for Chris.

Here is a link to the 4-screen version of "Can't Find My Way Home":

https://vimeo.com/118834854

And here is an interview with Janet about the exhibition (in the part where she mentions that only one person was able to tell which of the two crystals on display was man-made and which was from the mine, she's taking about me!:

http://www.studiointernational.com/.....isease-science

Big hugs and much love to everyone here,
KC

*iconswampstomper* and I drove to Memphis yesterday for lunch at Saigon Le with photographer William Eggleston; afterwards we went to the Memphis Zoo, where, I shit you not, I watched as a panda did a full handstand and urinated directly up into the air. I promise I did not dream this.

Around 1:10 a.m. on January 8th, my partner of 20 years called out twice in his sleep. It was loud and baleful, as if he were having a nightmare. I ran to the living room, where he slept in his recliner, to check on him. His mouth gaped and he panted heavily, and I called his name several times and asked if he was okay. He would not rouse from sleep, and I suspected it might be a side-effect of the number of new meds he'd been put on in recent weeks. His eyelids were closed but lightly fluttering, and he shifted and jerked like someone acting out a dream. He mumbled "I'll be okay...I'm gonna be okay..." I kissed his forehead and held his hand, put my other hand behind his back and sat with him for several minutes. He continued to mumble, but there were no discernible words, and eventually he seemed to slip back into sleep, still breathing rapidly. I slowly pulled my hand from his and removed my hand from behind him, all very gently to avoid waking him, and I returned to my computer in the back room. He'd been to see his heart doctor that Monday after a two week bout of atrial-fib, and was scheduled to return the following Friday for an echo-cardiogram, but still I did not realize what I had been witnessing. I thought to myself, "He was talking in his sleep--I'll have to tell him tomorrow. Maybe it's something to do with the new meds." In actuality, I'd been with him during his final moments of consciousness. After a prolonged bout of atrial-fib, the heart becomes surrounded by clots; he'd thrown one of those clots and was having a stroke.

In the morning, I was awakened by swampstomper screaming "CHRIS!!!! CHRIS!!!! CHRIS!!!!" from the living room. I still don't know if he was calling to me, or calling out to my partner in a desperate attempt to wake him. I jumped from bed with a flat terror in my mind at knowing what I would walk in on. My partner sat in his recliner, wearing his nightshirt, his head gently slumped over to his right shoulder. It was obvious that he was gone, but there were awful moments of denial, of belief that he might only be unconscious. He was not cold. He was not rigid, I hugged him so, so tight as swampstomper and I sobbed and told him how much we loved him. I crouched beside him and held his hand. I had always been terrified of this day, but I had lived the last few years in a state of rigid denial--I would not allow any talk of his passing. "Hush up! Nothing's going to happen to you. Let's not talk about this." I'd said that again and again, and now I was scared that I would not be able to cope with this, that the world was opening beneath me and would swallow me into it. I was in shock.

Three months ago, I lost my father. In the wake of his death, my first real experience with loss, I was aimless and inconsolable; I felt like a passenger on a ship whose captain was gone. I had no sense of direction. I never imagined the last gift my father would ever give me would be the ability to endure grief and remain standing. Going through that process prepared me for what would be the greatest test of my life. I had to keep pulling myself back from the edge, realizing that this was only the beginning of a long, hard process, and that I'd need to stay calm and have my wits about me. It was fortuitous thinking: in the coming days, I was left with the task of writing his obituary, scanning and correcting dozens of old family photos for a video prepared by the funeral home, arranging a musical program for his memorial, and actually presiding over the service (I had to get a little drunk before I delivered the eulogy so I wouldn't break down, but no one in attendance noticed--they thanked me profusely for what they considered a wonderful service, and many have requested a copy of the eulogy). I have also had to help settle the affairs of his estate along with his daughter and family: seeing lawyers, bouncing around banks, reorganizing and cleaning his shop in preparation for its sale. I've had to say goodbye in so many ways, but I haven't had the chance to do it with my heart yet.

I know I still haven't processed Chris's death. Moments lie ahead, ones with thorns attached--a song, a look into his closet at one of his shirts, the smell of his cologne, pulling into his now empty parking place in our yard--when I will be overwhelmed with the magnitude of this and feel like I can't go on without him. But if I stop being the person he loved, if I allow this to overwhelm me like the sea and I drown in it, I will have failed him. He'd want me to keep doing all the things he found so endearing, to keep being kind and compassionate, keep my oddball sense of humor, keep loving art and beauty, be dorky and quirky, be strong when others needed me and vulnerable when I needed to be. As much as I miss him, as often as I find myself wishing I could rewind time to the day we first met, I also understand he'd want me to keep loving and living. He would want the future to be his gift to me: I want to make him proud of how I handle it.

Thank you to everyone who has offered their support and love. You are all in my heart.

Bring the pain. Spare nothing. I want to limp away from this one, bruised and shamed, clutching my tattered shirt close to my chest...

I wish I could hug each and every one of you who wished me well on my birthday...You're all wonderful people, and I am thankful for your support!

Much love,
KC

Hah! Fooled you! This post is actually about Arbor Day.

Annika Larsson (one of my favorite video artists) made a film in 2012, titled ANIMAL, which showcases fursuiters in an entirely non-judgemental context. It actually situates the furry fandom as part of mankind's long history of animal worship, and attributing magical powers to animals (in the pics, keep your eyes peeled for a prehistoric ivory carving of a anthro feline)...

http://www.andrehn-schiptjenko.com/.....2-february-12/

There are so many journals from friends requesting financial assistance, many of whom are risking being out in the streets, or who have already found themselves homeless. I feel so impotent being unable to send help--I have no more money than what's in my pockets on any given day. If I could trade everything I have to secure your well-being, I'd do it in an instant. All I can send you, of little use as it is, is my love and my support.

Reposted from  shiriko

"So, I've never wanted to do this. Ever. I've seen people publically ask for help, and I told myself I'd never have to do that. However, it looks like life has said otherwise, and here I am, asking for donations. I've run into a major snag at work, and am pretty much out of a job at this point. Rather than do something crazy like trying to steal the money, I'm going to ask this fandom I've been a part of for so long for help.

Please, any amount at this point is helpful. I'm going to keep trying to get a different job, and keep trying to file a claim/lawsuit with work to get this situation resolved, or get back pay they owe me.

My paypal is shirikosan[at]gmail.com and I thank everyone who is willing to help, or even just for reading. Spread the word, if you can."

Florentijn Hofman's "Big Yellow Rabbit"

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikiped.....low_Rabbit.jpg

In Bocca al Lupo
https://vimeo.com/49513267

The Question That Devours
https://vimeo.com/49513269

Love and hugs to everyone!
KC

* I am legally blind in my left eye (until I got a permit, I was illegally blind in it).

* Thanks to being blind in my left eye, I have no depth perception. This means drawing figures in 3D space is pretty much beyond me, as is having more than one character in a scene; when you can't imagine forms in terms of volume, you can't exactly picture how other objects or persons will interact with them. That's why there are a bunch of fuckin' gradients in my pics instead of backgrounds, and why the characters in them don't overlap all that much.

* I am color blind; that's why my color submissions suck balls.

* Every time I finish a drawing, I feel like I'm starting over at square one as far as my confidence in my own abilities is concerned. I look at my old work and it's as if someone else did them, that I couldn't do them again if I tried.

* The reason I don't do commissions is because I can't stand the idea of making people wait until I can get my shit together and produce something worthwhile for them. If I felt I could be consistent in quality and timely in output, I would do free art for everyone who asked.

Love to everyone,
KC

New film, co-directed by the Wachowskis and Tom Twyker (director of Run Lola Run):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWnAqFyaQ5s

Looks amazing...

In an absolute WTF moment, I've discovered my brother Mark was right when he said the new Snyder/Nolan "Man of Steel" poaches from the Superman reboot script he wrote for Warner Bros.

A bit of backstory: after Warner Bros. stopped Jon Peters/Bryan Singer from moving forward on a sequel to "Superman Returns" (they decided to reboot the franchise mere days after my bro and I struck a deal with Jon Peters on our script for the sequel, "The Man of Steel"), Barry Levinson was made head of production and three scripts were considered: one from the aborted Tim Burton production "Superman Lives"; an awful JJ Abrams attempt from the early 2000s; and one written by my bro (since our script was the last one seriously considered by the studio, they gave him a shot as well. By then, thanks to the sudden success going to his head, I was suddenly persona non grata and wasn't allowed to work on it). Then Levinson was ousted, my bro's script was once again ditched, and Christopher Nolan was brought in as production head. Nolan hired (surprise surprise) David S. Goyer as screenwriter.

Fast forward to now. My brother, fuming mad, told me he'd discovered Goyer's script borrows liberally from his own reboot script; having seen the trailer for "Man of Steel", I can see he may be right. Mark's begins with a tornado hitting Smallville while Clark is still in High School, and Clark saving the day; the new "Man of Steel" trailer shows--TA-DA!--scenes of a tornado hitting Smallville while Clark is still in High School, and Clark saving the day. As in Mark's script, it seems to be a galvanizing event in the town, where they become afraid of his power and give him the boot.

We'll see how bad this gets, but I wouldn't be surprised if this escalates into something you'll be hearing about in places other than my journal.

If you've yet to see The Raid: Redemption, do so at your earliest convenience. Pair it with 13 Assassins if you want to see ass kicking reach critical mass.

Just got an awesome package in the mail from my friend Eli--two big catalogs of the work he's done as Assume Vivid Astro Focus. Check out his website to see some of his projects:

http://www.assumevividastrofocus.com/news.php (make sure to see his crazy collaboration with Lady Gaga)

Love to everyone,
KC

Okay, so this macho asshole biker guy--who has about one brain cell left due to all the drugs he's done and the alcohol he's consumed--was just in our room at Tucson, ranting about his "momma's boy" step-son. The kid was mugged in Belgium by the same group of street punks on three occasions, which this douche-bag says is because "the kid dresses--no offense, Chris--like a fucking FAG". He says he really, really wants to BEAT THE KID UP, specifically PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE, to "make a man out of him". But he thinks it might make his wife mad. Really? You think beating a child up make the boy's mom mad? Thank god that one brain cell is working.

Additionally, this asshole isn't gonna stop until he makes the kid anorexic: the kid used to be chubby, and the guy bitched about it until he lost weight, and now that he's skinny and barely eats this fuckhead won't shut up about the kid needing to bulk up. He yelled at him and cussed him out in front of us, all the while assuring the kid he wasn't trying to embarrass him.

I have never wanted to stomp a guy's skull in so bad. But guess what? We're going to dinner with him tonight. I don't fucking get why my partner continually allows people like this to even get within a thousand yards of us, let alone hang out in our room and make dinner plans with us. He doesn't want to do it either, but he's the boss and they're the customers, and I have zero say.

I really can't wait until I get to do something else with my life.

How cute is this???

http://nowherelimited.com/ron-engli.....-fat-tony.html

It deeply, truly sucks having to spend so much time with a right-wing, homophobic Christian simply because he's an important museum curator and a crucial business contact for my partner. Now that we're here at the gem show for the next month, he'll be by for several hours each day wanting to talk (mostly about his son's military service and how Obama is secretly a Muslim Nazi who is going to force us all to obey Sharia law). I have to smile and pretend I agree with everything. Kill me. No, really.

He's an insanely great artist.

http://www.furaffinity.net/user/kobi-lacroix/

His style is fluid and full of character, immediately identifiable, and highly polished--all hallmarks of one of the greats...

Big hugs to all,
Chris

To anyone who still keeps track of my account,

I have a shit load of new pics, but no scanner; I let someone borrow it, and I'll probably never see it again (you notice how doing favors for people always seems to blow up in your face? That's why I'm not nearly as trusting or nice anymore). I thought I had a back-up scanner, but turns out it doesn't work. As soon as this situation corrects itself, you'll see more art from me. Don't expect it to be anytime soon, as I don't have the money to buy another one. I'll just be posting the line art, as I have neither the time or inclination to color them--seeing as I'm color-blind, and it's my weakest skill, it's better this way.

Wishing everyone well,
Chris