Journal - W08E3 ("I" version)

It was dark and silent outside. Just before dawn, I was hastily finishing my writing for the deadline within two hours. I pulled out my brain and squeezed the rest of my inspiration on the Logitech soundless keyboard, but nothing came out. Not a single drop of wit. I then minimized the window on the screen, double-clicked the PC strategy game and started a half-hour rest. Running out of ideas is inevitable in my reporting career. Even worse, I always manage to start moving my fingers on the keyboard – using pen to actually write on paper is not an option anymore nowadays – at the last moment. To be precise, if I have three article for one thousand words each to be finished before nine a.m. tomorrow, I probably will start writing at no earlier than ten o’clock tonight.

I learned this bad habit from my father who, since I have had memory, always sits on the swivel chair and stays up all night in front of the old 486 computer with his editor calling continuously to press for his arduously produced articles. However, comparing these two men, a professor who writes economical and political commentaries for newspapers and magazines readily, and a brat who can only do prose and junks, nothing is shown in common but the fact that they both write.

After a happy short break, I, the brat who had just blamed my procrastination to his dear dad, enlarged the unfinished document back on my screen. While I rhythmically beat the keyboard as piano keys with new ideas in mind, the sun rose from the windowsill. Day time came with singing birds and rapidly increased temperature. It was going to be another long summer day. But to me, the day ended at nine in the morning, when I finished my articles and fell on my bed for a good day sleep.

Journal - W08E3 ("He" version)

It was dark and silent outside. Just before dawn, he was hastily finishing his writing for the deadline within two hours. He pulled out his brain and squeezed the rest of his inspiration on the Logitech soundless keyboard, but nothing came out. Not a single drop of wit. He then minimized the window on the screen, double-clicked the PC strategy game and started a half-hour rest. Running out of ideas is inevitable in his reporting career. Even worse, He always manages to start moving his fingers on the keyboard – using pen to actually write on paper is not an option anymore nowadays – at the last moment. To be precise, if he has three article for one thousand words each to be finished before nine a.m. tomorrow, he probably will start writing at no earlier than ten o’clock tonight.

He learned this bad habit from his father who, since he has had memory, always sits on the swivel chair and stays up all night in front of the old 486 computer with the editor calling continuously to press for his father’s arduously produced articles. However, comparing these two men, a professor who writes economical and political commentaries for newspapers and magazines readily, and a brat who can only do prose and junks, nothing is shown in common but the fact that they both write.

After a happy short break, the brat, who had just blamed his procrastination to his dear dad, enlarged the unfinished document back on his screen. While he rhythmically beat the keyboard as piano keys with new ideas in mind, the sun rose from the windowsill. Day time came with singing birds and rapidly increased temperature. It was going to be another long summer day. But to him, the day ended at nine in the morning, when he finished his articles and fell on his bed for a good day sleep.

賞金獵人Bounty Hunter

畫風尚可，結局突兀。一個賞金獵人因為搭檔的死，以尋死的心去執行每一次任務。內容很多樣化，不像某些作品，每個單元都流於公式化。每一回後面還有附上現今的國際(?)通緝犯資料，結尾還有原作者（真正的賞金獵人）的感想。

最差勁的就是結局了，前一回失蹤，下一回就跑去像是Quantico的地方當教練，還跟不起眼警察（前一回才首度現身）的妹妹（最終回才在照片中首度現身）結婚生子。他○○的鬼咧。