Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, July 31, 2010


by telented JAKE BLANCHARD
shameless tumblring...


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Friday, July 30, 2010


Fragment of Soliloquio de Segismundo in La vida es sueño

Sueña el rico en su riqueza,
que más cuidados le ofrece;
sueña el pobre que padece
su miseria y su pobreza;
sueña el que a medrar empieza,
sueña el que afana y pretende,
sueña el que agravia y ofende,
y en el mundo, en conclusión,
todos sueñan lo que son,
aunque ninguno lo entiende.

Yo sueño que estoy aquí
destas prisiones cargado,
y soñé que en otro estado
más lisonjero me vi.
¿Qué es la vida? Un frenesí.
¿Qué es la vida? Una ilusión,
una sombra, una ficción,
y el mayor bien es pequeño:
que toda la vida es sueño,
y los sueños, sueños son.

Pedro Calderón de la Barca

The first gang

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, July 29, 2010


Remember the first one?

Here's a nice pic of the gang back then.

So you can appreciate Keith Thompson's great art

Don Quijote

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Wednesday, July 28, 2010


Alternative Energy Revolution

via: xkcd

El divino

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, July 27, 2010


Salvador Dalí, as you should know, was made of awesome.

In surrealism there was nothing like him.

I once heard (not so reliable source) that il divino was expelled from the counsel of surrealists for taking a different spin.

But people, I am here to establish that those accusations were not well founded.

Exhibit A:


Yes... that's right.
I think there's no more need for the other exhibits... that, and I don't really have any more material.

But I think this is enough to rest my case.
Dalí was just too much for them.


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Monday, July 26, 2010


I really think this is worth reading.

Para la libertad sangro, lucho y pervivo.
Para la libertad, mis ojos y mis manos,
como un árbol carnal, generoso y cautivo,
doy a los cirujanos.

Para la libertad siento más corazones
que arenas en mi pecho. Dan espumas mis venas
y entro en los hospitales y entro en los algodones
como en las azucenas.

Porque donde unas cuencas vacías amanezcan,
ella pondrá dos piedras de futura mirada
y hará que nuevos brazos y nuevas piernas crezcan
en la carne talada.

Retoñarán aladas de savia sin otoño,
reliquias de mi cuerpo que pierdo en cada herida.
Porque soy como el árbol talado, que retoño
y aún tengo la vida.

Miguel Hernández (performed by J.M Serrat)

Will vegetarians eat lizard now?

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, July 25, 2010


Remember the urge for creating I had some posts ago?

If you're in the present you should be aware this is in the past. If you're in the future you'll think we just don't make sense. If you're in the past... get on a time machine already.

Ok. So, I will continue with that. But this situation where we are so far behind is getting to my nerves. So basically, I'll be a Stumblr here for you. Sharing whatever crap I look at in the internetz.

That doesn't make you happy? leave a comment bitch, I dare you.
Just kidding, we ♥ you.

So I shall begin.

Nerd power

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Saturday, July 24, 2010


imela:ilovecharts:alphoenix: The moral of the story: Wearing glasses is awesome.

show me those glasses!


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Friday, July 23, 2010


There comes a point in every old penguin's life when you have to ask yourself:

How the hell did we end up here?

and most important...

What happened to us?

I breath I exist I think I stop I exhale I stop existing.
Life goes. It never comes.


Mienteme y di que no estoy loco.
...Y como un lobo voy detras de ti

Yes, this is a real post, I'm not kidding.
[I'm in that point of life where I have to, again, grab a hammer and collapse it against anything that seems to be part of me]

The First Key

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, July 22, 2010


The first key left, two more left to come. The thing about the first key was that it meant independence. Getting it two years ago represented trust, self confidence and freedom. Giving it aways foesn't mean taking all that back, but changing it for a different kind of independence. Which takes me to the second meaning of the key. Money. I won't be having fancy dinners at the Ritz anymore (which actually means no more salmon and Pinot Noir) I might be hungry some day, and that idea has started to kick in. The two keys left are the keys that open what I call home. Oh my.

Quantum double split

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, July 21, 2010


Watch this

Now... as you might be widely aware as of now, i'm not quantum physicist. But when explained by a retired super hero with top of the edge 3D animation, it's kind of hard to miss the point.
[So, I'm not sure how much have they advanced into explaining this, but I'll just develop from what I see.]

Is matter aware of its own existence?
Is this a matter of perception?
At the end of the day, is it all dust? (His Dark Materials reference)

Now, if you ask me, I would say this only means there are many things we can't understand with our macro perspective, but that's just me.

Leaving speculation aside and entering the esoteric realm.

Is this a way the universe communicates with us?
Is unobserved matter nothing but energy?

Is consciousness nothing but a blur that doesn't let us see right?

Or is it that when God stops watching, we will all become entangled waves?

Just some thoughts.


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Tuesday, July 20, 2010


My mom literally told me: "No more instruments! Not a single one! You'll have to buy it yourself if you want it. " That was (of course) after I dared to ask for a 'cajón' when she had already bought me a piano, an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, two flutes, and saxophone.

via: comicallyvintage

Making space

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Monday, July 19, 2010


This post comes in several parts.

--I simply loved this strip x)

--Old scriptures found in the bottom of my paper made nest.

*Ghosts of ancient monsters appear before me, not to confront me again, but to remind me of the simplicity of other times.

*La verdad tomó un mazo, se levantó de su silla de acabado persa, y arrastrando tal herramienta se colocó detras de mi. Y sin mayor reparo, me destrozó los sesos.

--Life advise (from an unsuccessful blogger without a degree)

*Whenever you have fear to do something, are thinking twice or there's too much work, remember one day you will die. It puts things in perspective.

*There are some questions you will never be able to answer. This doesn't mean you get to give your story of choice to make things fit. If things are uncertain, that's how they are, deal with it.

*If you can't do anything about it, then worrying won't make it better.

*When dusting, use a covering mask. (even more so if you are allergic to dust)

*If (when) you get to the conclusion that human existence is absurd and that the search for meaning is that there is truly no meaning at all... you will finally see the true beauty of life, no strings attached.

*Doubt of everything anybody says, the second you hear something and instantly agree with it, you know it's time to do some changes.

*Don't take the internet, or life for that matter too seriously; at the end it is all for the lulz.

The Fall

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , , | Posted on Sunday, July 18, 2010


I'm nostalgic. I miss people.

I am the penguin

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, July 17, 2010


I've changed since the last time I showed you a picture of me.
Or so I believe.

It was made impromptu, had I Photoshop, previous notice or even water colors this would be different, but I don't, so there.

Pall Mall

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , , | Posted on Friday, July 16, 2010


The four friends and the sinner's palace

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, July 15, 2010


Once upon a time there were four boys whose friendship and deeds transcended their little village in the mountain. At their young age the were already known to have solved criminal mysteries, caught villainous juvies and rescued youngsters in distress. Their adventures were told everywhere they went, and they would make history, they thought. That is until one day they ended up in a place of decadence without redemtion, and then their lives changed forever.

Red, who feared nothing and laughed in the sight of danger was dared by one of his dearest friends, Yellow to find one thing none of the four had seen. Yellow had the sharpest tongue of them all and was sure Red would never collect anything that would have escaped Blue's natural curiosity and thirst of knowledge, or Green's affinity to collecting rare objects and learning their stories. Yellow had finally found a challenge for the bravest of them all, to outcome his own friends at their expertises.

Red went to the most inhospitable of places to find the most strange of oddities, but one way or the other, at least one of the four eleven agers had seen it. The boys traveled to the den where all flea-filled wigs end up, they visited the old manor where the crazy people who took too much medicine ended up. They even went to the town's tavern.

No luck.

At least no until a city map showed them that there was only one building they had never visited. Yellow wondered if they were allowed there in the first place, to what red answered some taunt that ended with the boys walking to the last place on Earth they thought they would go.

When they were finally there, they saw it, the place where no other kid had ever gone before, the hell house every single person told them never to look at. The building was not horrid, in fact in look well preserved, and actually had a pretty facade. But in its door were engraved the two words that read eternal fire: Sex Shop

"This is as far as we'll get, I'm sure we're not supposed to even be looking at it" said green, taking steps away from the place. "Oh no, hell no, we're not going anywhere. You wanted to see something you had never seen before, here it is" said red as he came closer to that place of sin. After some childish argument among the boys, the thing finally settled by teasing whoever wouldn't go in was a girl... Anyway, they all went in.

Given the nature of this tale, it would be too perverse to describe the contents of said store, damaging the moral of the reader. But it would only be fair to describe the aftermath of the boys' doing.

Red at last found his match, something he was not ever going to look further into, something he was not willing to take to the end. Something that made him look away.

Green at the beginning was wondering which of the articles would be of collector's value, that is until he saw a very colorful magazine showing her mother in a cover, in ways no boy wants to ever see his mother... or any other person for that matter.

Yellow's curiosity for what was under girls' skirts died, it was not satisfied, it just died. In fact, he swore he would never look at any of that ever again. Lucky him he got to break that promise years later.

But for blue the experience was not that unpleasant. The colors, the odors, the shapes and the entire atmosphere of being in a secret place where he was not supposed to be made him squeal. It was a place where everything was unknown and there he could discover everything, but at the end of the day, only he would know it, only he would have that, and that gave him a feeling of belonging and contempt yearning. At last he had found a place to call home.

Sketching fun

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Wednesday, July 14, 2010


This is actually your fault, for the amazing share the other day. :D

with: ScribblerToo (this is actually ZeFrank's)

with: viscosity

with: myoats

with: odosketch

with: Flame

[iamthepenguin: smash!ng apps]

El ruido que corre

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Tuesday, July 13, 2010


Hombres que visten de plumas grises.
Tus comos y tus saberes,
aves que se deslizan en los hilos de nuestros recuerdos.
La marea sublime
La belleza corrupta
La casa que se parte por la mitad.

Hechizos de arena.
Gitanos que vuelan en violines
cuando la Luna se asoma y resopla.
Girasoles lloran y se lamentan
por la lluvia de ceniza.

Caramelo se achicharra con
amantes suporosos que se toman de la mano.
Una pose, una expresión practicada,
un aire fingido, una cara vieja.
Tus destellos y haces de inocencia
que se atenuan al ver el camino.

Aviones que surcan las profunidades de la conciencia
y colapsan con la historia heredada.

Better than.

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Monday, July 12, 2010


Happy birthday says I.
The pixelated racoon Mario and some really cool Brocolees said hi from far away. A far away that with the new adress my actually be less far away than before. We would have to check with google maps or something.
I was thinking about The Evinroodes at the time I was making the letter, I would be so awesome that the brocolees would become trees. I could play the guitar, ...because I am so freaking good at it... or maybe I could play the bass, I like the image of me in a band playing the bass.
So anyways, happy birthday. :D

About birds and angst

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, July 11, 2010


I'll be cryptic, so don't worry if you don't understand.
(yes future me, i made this little sense back now(?) )

Ever since the winged creature whispered in my ear, you know I've frequented this ethereal screens of stories, partly because they're good, and also to be kind of informed of whatever it says about the wings.

But lately whenever I go back to the screens, I just feel effing anxious... I mean it's not only that they tell me someday I'm going to be murder by the hands of time, but that I'm making a terrible use of my minute trust fund. That's scary. One thing is to know that the world's running out of resources and eventually we'll extinct... but to think I, ME, yourstruly is running out of the only true resource we have the right of using, doesn't feel like a hundred dollars.
But you know.
So it goes.

It is not only the ridiculous squander, but also the lack of resume I have! No references, no job interview experience. Who's ever going to hire me for a long term job? (kind of a bad analogy, don't worry, I'm not looking a freelance job as a table dancer [just yet]).

But you know how I am, always worrying ahead of time. Or so I tell myself to forget the stress. But this time, I'm not ahead of time, all the birds have already had some stormy, tiring, ridiculous job. Who needs a penguin these days when the sky's filled with pigeons.

[I can only hope for my French scientist/philosopher...]


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , , , , | Posted on Saturday, July 10, 2010


How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.

-Alexander Pope

Social convention

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Friday, July 09, 2010


Image from: All about India

Social convention to me is like a rare traditional belly dance, done every time a sacred cow smiles at the whistling meadows of eternity, with singing and choreographed dramatic movements along sidewalks.

Yea, that's how much sense it makes.

Once you've seen it happen for some years you get used to seeing it, and being part of it, but that by no reason means I know the lyrics to the part where we all stand in the middle of the street, or that I can tell when is the cow just flexing the face muscles.

Being stated I'm an outcast, I can say that my observations from the outside have led me to a (kind of) important hypothesis. Social convention is nothing else than people wanting others to acknowledge their existence.

Let's start by stating that nobody is anybody else. Obvious right? But think of all the implications of trying to organize billions of others individuals that, just like you, have free will, believes, conflicts, childhood traumas, different education and such and such. But it is not only the ideas, let's think about all the people who actually consider themselves the center of the universe, -insufferable pricks- you might think, but they have a point, and that is that outside ourselves... we know NOTHING for certain.

And here's where I'm going. Aside from the things in your mind, your ideas, your discipline, your plans, there is nothing you can assume certain. It doesn't matter how much you socially relate to others, at the end of the day you will be forever isolated in your own head stating yourself what is true, what isn't, what's real and what's not.

It is YOUR reality.

Given this, we're all just isolated individuals who can only reach each other with interactions that will never compare to knowing each other like one knows one's self.

Now, in this panorama it would sound like I'm talking about a community of autistic people who live in loneliness. But we actually need each other.

Communication can be hard because we are widely aware of our own ability to ignore, to change the facts and such. So we need a way to be sure that the other guy, the lonely individual in it's own planet, understand what we, in our little world, wanted to let out. And thus making it a pain in the ass telling wanting to express anything without some certainty.

And we all know we love certainty. (kind of)

So we force ourselves and others to enter these games of pose and dramatic entrances. We need rules to play the game where everybody feels like other people know they exist, where they are sure they're not so lonely. We need to make sure the other knows we exist. Greet them when we enter the room, say good bye, ask about their families, call if they are sick, laugh at their stupid jokes, smile when they tell you of their little life triumphs.

So we have to make all these complicated dance steps so everybody knows how to take correctly the queue of their solo after the fire works start in the background.

I've never been good at dancing, or getting out of my own little planet... or acknowledging other's existences for that matter.

No vaya a ser...

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , , | Posted on Thursday, July 08, 2010


This is the country in which we will develop as scientists... Good luck everyone.

Moleskine frenzy

Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Wednesday, July 07, 2010


Not being able to come up with electronic based content...

Radiohead ceremony

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in , | Posted on Tuesday, July 06, 2010


This is a band I love covering a band I even love more.

Covers are just awesomesauce. (sometimes)


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Monday, July 05, 2010


Doodles make me...

What do doodles make you like?


Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Sunday, July 04, 2010


I will miss my aweshomz full of win friends. :)

by Dale Edwin Murray

[love all this: Hard Feelings]


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Saturday, July 03, 2010


You (should) know I'm not really superstitious, I can't afford to, being a pretentious scientific prick anyway, but I can understand a clear sign when I see it...

I don't know about you, but I think this means I should probably spend less time in the internet, but I guess it is a matter of interpretation.


Actually what I think it means is that I should spend less time contemplating and more time creating.

Somewhere (in the internet) I read a quote (who's author I ignore) saying that to be truly creative one had to loose fear of failure... or making something lame. And I suppose that's what I should be doing, lame creative content.

It's simple statistics, out of many crappy works one will eventually be enjoyable.
So I'll stick to signs and probability here to justify myself, thing I don't need to do since most likely there's NOBODY reading this anyway :).

I've started...
(obviously wait for the next post)

I've seen the future

Posted by Mrs. Kite | Posted in | Posted on Friday, July 02, 2010


Give me back my broken night/ my mirrored room, my secret life/it's lonely here,/there's no one left to torture/Give me absolute control/over every other living soul/And lie beside me, baby,/that's an order!

Things are going to slide, slide in all directions/Won't be nothing/Nothing you can measure anymore/The blizzard, the blizzard of the world/has crossed the threshold/and it has overturned/the order of the soul/When they said repent repent/I wonder what they meant/When they said repent repent

Del señoron Leonard Cohen


Posted by I'm the penguin | Posted in | Posted on Thursday, July 01, 2010


Damn it, why couldn't I be born an artist? Then I could look at beauty and feel an energy coming from within me with the purpose of creating more. The sublime would brutally destroy my world, the genius would turn the universe inside out and the hearted-less would devastate all the carbon atoms in my composition.

But instead I can only see it and bite my lips, let out an eager chuckle and wait for the second I get to talk about it in my blog.

That's modern times.

This day the cause of this was a project of great magnificence.

In the not so strange case you're too lazy too open the link I'll tell you a few about this project. There was a book. An artist send it to another one he knew, said artist sent it back. This happened several times. In the mean time, they filled the pages with mind-blowing ink made of awesome.