Okay, so, the Max picture rambly-thing in my previous post?  I was poking around in Liquid Story Binder to create a new workspace for today's writing session, and I stumbled across one of the old images that I've always used to represent Max.  This is a drawing by Yoshitaka Amano of Vampire Hunter D fame.  He's my favorite artist, and I've been obsessed with D since my junior year of high school because he reminded me soooo damn much of the moody scar-faced aristocrat who'd started taking over my stories that year.  So when I'd found this image in high school, I'd adopted it as my Official Max Picture. 

( D )

Does that look vaguely familiar?  Maybe I'm just imagining the similarities.  You be the judge.

( Mystery man who I've decided is a scar-free Max in real life )

I don't know.  It's just more evidence of my obsessive imagination.  But it amuses me so. 

I'm sure I've noticed the similarities (real or imagined, I'm open to both possibilities) before, but I guess I'm just more Max-minded today than usual.  

So does anyone know who that guy actually is?  I kind of feel bad for using this picture so obsessively in my story files for the last 7-8 years without having any clue who he is.  I think he's a musician or something, I seem to remember saving the pics from some band site or another. 

( Another picture of the mystery guy I've dubbed Max but isn't really him. Does anyone recognize him? Who is he?! )

As those of you who have peeked at my writing journal (ardeal_foxtale ) know, I have absolutely no idea who the guy in this icon is in real life.  I came across the full size picture many many years ago, and I was left breathless by the remarkable resemblance this man bears to my dear General Maxfield Volpe.  Even the pose and the tone and the collar of the shirt are Pure Max.  The only thing missing, of course, is the scar arcing from his eye to the corner of his mouth, and it somewhat amuses me that the picture is of the man's left cheek, the very cheek that should be marred by the scar.  I've often considered flipping the image, but then that would wreak havoc with the side on which his hair is parted.  Meh.  Anyway, I've long been enraptured by this photo because it is, to me, a photo of Max.  It's how he'd appeared to me in dreams and in stories long before I ever saw this image, and it gives me a bit of a concrete connection to my dear spae-alf.  

The funny thing about it is I'd saved a few other pics of this guy from the site when I found this one, and he looks NOTHING at all like Max in any of the others.  Well, maybe a little bit around the eyes, and the hair of course, but the shape and structure of his face and features are dramatically different.  This just makes me cherish the picture featured in my icon all that much more.  

Anyway, this whole spiel is being thrust upon you because today is Max's day.  Even though he's not a physical, living person, the date 14 Jan 1979 has always stood out as his birthday/anniversary/inception/whatever you want to call the holiday for your spiritual guide/(stalker)/fiction story-hijacker.  I've always thought that date to be a little odd since I myself was not born until July of 1982, but hey, if that's what he insists, who am I to argue?  I find the whole thing strange and hard to explain without coming off as schizophrenic, but those of you who have made Max's acquaintance know I'm not making this shit up.  It is what it is, I stopped trying to explain it long ago.  I'm just glad he's made such a profound influence in my life, and I treasure him above all else.  He is the big brother I never had (as I've mentioned many a time before, my journal name -- surioara -- is his nickname for me.  It's a Romanian term of endearment for "little sister"), and as protective as he can be, he's also the first one to kick my ass and express extreme displeasure when I'm being a dipshit.  That's actually the  reason I originally thought he might have been one of Odhinn's many guises when he first started fussing around in my head and my stories and my dreams.  I've since learned that he is quite separate from Ol' One Eye; in fact, I think the very first entry I ever posted in this journal was about the epiphany I'd had in understanding his nature and being.  It took me longer to realize he was part of my fylgia than it should have.  I mean, come on, I've known since childhood that foxes are immensely special to me, I've known since high school that the red fox is my fetch.  So why didn't it click that the guy introducing himself as "Volpe" was somehow related to my fetch?  Gee, it all seems so obvious now.  (I wish I could see your faces as you read this.  I know one or two of you know what all of those words mean and understand what I'm blathering on about. . . but as usual, I digress.  My apologies.).  

Crazy talk aside, 14 Jan just resonates as a very special day for me, a personal holiday of utmost importance, and so I've taken a day off from work to celebrate.  I've been needing a day off so that I could decompress anyway, so what better day than today?  I had been kicking myself Monday night and Tuesday morning for having let it slip my mind-- I'd forgotten to request the 14th off, and I was seriously peeved with myself for it.  But yesterday, upon arriving at work, I was gimping to my desk as fast as I could, hoping I'd be able to log in and send my request before my 9 AM start (PTO requests must be submitted 24 hours before that shift in order for them to count as scheduled.  Otherwise, my day off would be considered "unexcused,"  and that of course is a Very Bad Thing indeed).  One of my coworkers came walking down the hall towards me, and the moment I saw her, I knew I'd get the 14th off.   She was wearing a plum colored shirt and a black suit (blazer and everything).  I'd never seen (or at least, I'd never before noticed) anyone in the office wearing that combination before, and because I'm crazy and delusional, I took her adaptation of his uniform as my omen that I'd have my holiday.  Sure enough, I got my request in on time, and so I'm reveling in my day off to decompress and write and pester Max.  Huzzah!

I made an appointment to have my hair done this morning, and I ended up being stunned (and perhaps inspired) by Max's new idea for his own hair (hehe, Jenny, if you have any more visits from him, take notice!  This is an absolute first for him. . .  I am very amused, and once I got over my shock, I realized how much I love it!)  (<--- can that POSSIBLY sound any more insane?!).  Now that I'm all geeked out over having black hair again (with killer burgundy streaks.  Pics to come, I suppose), I'm going to settle in with coffee and music and I'm going to spend the afternoon writing.  I'm going to put my NaNo novel aside for the time being and work on some new material.  Max is definitely poking around today, so I think I'll write something for him.  I've not written for him or about him in a few years now.  Poor, neglected Max.

La mulţi ani, frate mare!