This is the most excited I ever am to see a toilet.
Month: September 2019
This is the most excited I ever am to see a toilet.
Dear Friends and Fans
tumblr is hiding all my new erotic drawings, even if no genitals or nipples are visible.
If you still want to follow & support my work uncensored just subscribe to
apolloniasaintclair.com or patreon.com/apolloniasaintclair
Thank you so much for your faithfulness
See you on the other side…
I’ve followed Apollonia’s work for years. It’s erotic, yes, but it’s also surreal and amazing and I love her trippiest pieces the most. Every one is a panel in the middle of a story that’s left for the viewer to fill out.
Tumblr sucks for this kind of art these days, but I can’t recommend her work highly enough. Check out the links for more.
most ppl I’ve met have a game or game series that like … fundamentally influenced their life and interests and i think that’s awesome
mine are the legend of zelda and fallout
what are yours?
Oh dang. All of them? You know, every video game? I work in video games and my life feels like a culmination of the many I played from the NES onward. These games were always more like interactive stories to me. They were the rabbit hole and the looking glass.
But if I had to choose some early stuff, I’d say Castle of Illusion and World of Illusion were formative experiences. They presented dark worlds and protagonists who didn’t exactly fit the mold of action hero. Just some doofy people who try to help others and escape their circumstances. The environments and characters were rich for the time, really taking you into the games as stories in spite of the minimal exposition or dialogue. I didn’t get to reading fiction until later in childhood but these were the stories I grew up with. I always looked for the narrative and applied my own when the limits of design or technology left me to my own devices.
Fistraftions
I sit on a train for roughly three or four hours a day, depending on the time and station. Lately, I lose more time in a car as I race ahead to catch a train further ahead of my usual station in Mountain View. The extra mileage has caused me to get into mileage debt on my leased car. I suspect I’ll have to stop driving for a month and catch the bus in order to reduce the deficit and build a surplus again. This is the way I think now, the least interesting narrative. I could skip ahead to the topic of writing a book while on the train, but it’s just writing and it’s only interesting to me and maybe half a dozen others. I need to stop losing so much time in the car so I can spend it on a train, writing.
I thought about love briefly the other day. I used to avoid it but now I’m as numb to it as the idea of Venetian blinds. It’s odd because I certainly see representations of it often enough. It doesn’t come up often as a conscious topic. I thought about the last time I was in love, then the last time I had sex, the latter of which is a more common consideration. It’s still summer in practice and everyone’s wearing their summer clothes. Lots of bare legs. I think, I have eyes with which to see.
The last coyote I saw in person emerged from the brush near the recycling plant at Bayshore and had a pronounced limp on a front leg. It looked grizzled. It may have arrived via the Golden Gate Bridge but will never leave.
The last dog I interacted with ran along the on-ramp to the 101 at Belmont. I and one other driver tried and failed to use our cars to corral the dog toward the exit to safety, and I pulled over to try and do something but ultimately accomplished zilch. I got back into my car and drove onto the freeway only to see the dog’s body on the farthest lane to the left where a driver had struck it. If I did all I could, I would be there too.
Laziness pervades everything. Outside of the prescribed hours of productivity, I want to eat and I want to sleep. Even a video game is far too much effort. I can take two weeks to re-center, but what is the center? The core is a ball of yarn. I feel I need to unravel it, but only carefully and as laziness allows. And then, of course, there’s just a loose bundle of yarn to contend with.
I must make a new video or two this weekend to remain on schedule. My backlog is depleted. The Simpsons had only two games on the Commodore Sixty-Four. Only one on the Zed-Ex Spectrum. These should be easy enough to produce. But a heat wave rolls in this weekend and mania will urge me to leave the house. Who will I see? What will I say? I suppose the mystery is compelling.
Fistraftions
I sit on a train for roughly three or four hours a day, depending on the time and station. Lately, I lose more time in a car as I race ahead to catch a train further ahead of my usual station in Mountain View. The extra mileage has caused me to get into mileage debt on my leased car. I suspect I’ll have to stop driving for a month and catch the bus in order to reduce the deficit and build a surplus again. This is the way I think now, the least interesting narrative. I could skip ahead to the topic of writing a book while on the train, but it’s just writing and it’s only interesting to me and maybe half a dozen others. I need to stop losing so much time in the car so I can spend it on a train, writing.
I thought about love briefly the other day. I used to avoid it but now I’m as numb to it as the idea of Venetian blinds. It’s odd because I certainly see representations of it often enough. It doesn’t come up often as a conscious topic. I thought about the last time I was in love, then the last time I had sex, the latter of which is a more common consideration. It’s still summer in practice and everyone’s wearing their summer clothes. Lots of bare legs. I think, I have eyes with which to see.
The last coyote I saw in person emerged from the brush near the recycling plant at Bayshore and had a pronounced limp on a front leg. It looked grizzled. It may have arrived via the Golden Gate Bridge but will never leave.
The last dog I interacted with ran along the on-ramp to the 101 at Belmont. I and one other driver tried and failed to use our cars to corral the dog toward the exit to safety, and I pulled over to try and do something but ultimately accomplished zilch. I got back into my car and drove onto the freeway only to see the dog’s body on the farthest lane to the left where a driver had struck it. If I did all I could, I would be there too.
Laziness pervades everything. Outside of the prescribed hours of productivity, I want to eat and I want to sleep. Even a video game is far too much effort. I can take two weeks to re-center, but what is the center? The core is a ball of yarn. I feel I need to unravel it, but only carefully and as laziness allows. And then, of course, there’s just a loose bundle of yarn to contend with.
I must make a new video or two this weekend to remain on schedule. My backlog is depleted. The Simpsons had only two games on the Commodore Sixty-Four. Only one on the Zed-Ex Spectrum. These should be easy enough to produce. But a heat wave rolls in this weekend and mania will urge me to leave the house. Who will I see? What will I say? I suppose the mystery is compelling.
red rock canyon state park, california
Penny Dreadful is just my jam as someone raised in the Catholic way. The main cast are all off the path for one reason or another. Their experiences are informed by guilt and their drive to atone for whatever it is they’re guilty about. I have nothing as fantastic as the horrors in their lives, but then I suppose horror is relative. I sometimes think back on things I’ve seen and done that I would never tell anyone, and wonder how they’ve shaped me. I see a distance and a monster is someone with a distance between themselves and their victims, isn’t it? A gulf that makes the horrific tolerable, if not escapable or forgivable.
I can’t say all I’d want to say yet. I start to write an observation and the show contradicts it or twists my thoughts in the next episode. So for now, yeah, it’s my jam.
Penny Dreadful is just my jam as someone raised in the Catholic way. The main cast are all off the path for one reason or another. Their experiences are informed by guilt and their drive to atone for whatever it is they’re guilty about. I have nothing as fantastic as the horrors in their lives, but then I suppose horror is relative. I sometimes think back on things I’ve seen and done that I would never tell anyone, and wonder how they’ve shaped me. I see a distance and a monster is someone with a distance between themselves and their victims, isn’t it? A gulf that makes the horrific tolerable, if not escapable or forgivable.
I can’t say all I’d want to say yet. I start to write an observation and the show contradicts it or twists my thoughts in the next episode. So for now, yeah, it’s my jam.