I just started a sketch-blog over here:

Every Damned Day

Check it out. Bookmark it. Write it poems, just DO SOMETHING!

Oh shit!

It's really been a year.
Damn, Myspace. Does this mean we're broke up?

Anyhow, I went to SPX last weekend. That's the Small Press Expo for the uninitiated. It's a comics show full of the best people you could imagine. And even better they ALL DRAW or LOVE comics. It's a fucking experience.

I tabled there with my first book. Which you's mugs can peep here for now:

CLOCKJUMPERS

I also drew a comic... it's sort of a comic, about the show, which you can see here: CLICK HERE: READ COMIC! GOOD TIMES FOLLOW

So, check out my melody and let me know what you think. Peace out Myspace. It's better this way.

We both know it.

Working like mad on a couple things. Firstly T'challa died up on me, and by virtue of... well SOMETHING, I actually happened to find a car without selling any of my favorite organs. Next: Looking for a new jorb. They're just not paying me enough to run the gun these days, if anything really unexpected happened, I'd be sunked. That's right. I said it. SUNKED. And Drawlin' writin', drawlin' writin', as always. It may also concern some of you that my heart may or may not have been stolen... that's alright though. If it was I probably wanted her to do it.

We saw Harry Potter pt 5: Harry Potter goes to college, a couple nights ago. I'd like to tell you all about it, but I'm still convinced you people are bad luck. All except Jim. He's just so... Jimpy.

Man, the Wonder years is great. It is an issuer of feelings and a diabolical wizard, casting into you feelings that never ever happened.
It is bizzare, in that I've never been a suburban white child, growing up in the seventies, but yet and still, there it is, and every goddamned word is true. I don't think I can accurately draw for you a picture of how awkward it is to realize that I'm pining for the days when I was traveling trough adolescence in some non-disclosed place in the midwest.


It never happened

That's how fucking good it is.

I'll leave you with that. Now go watch it!

Peas out!

-Kid

P.S.-The thing in the title says(supposedly): Nothing is heavy to those with wings

I AM SORE... EVERYWHERE.

Improvoflash :   Dane made this. He didn't say I could post it... but he can't very well STOP ME! 

Take THAT, other peoples wishes. 

I heard from somebody I never EVER thought I'd hear from again tonight who wrote me with thoughts on Children of Men. Seriously. Go see this. There is no other answer but yes.

Concerning that movie, I had an idea for a shirt that said *SPOILERS*:
 Front: In the future, everybody dies     Back: ... EVEN THEO :(

I think I may actually make one.

Speaking of HORRIBLE things I made. I recorded this AWFUL song last week.
It is awful. I put it here to torment people that are interested in reading about my uninteresting life.

Just awful

You can hear AIM and me laughing several times in the background if you listen the right way.

 For some reason that is ceaselessly amusing to me.

-Kid:

Everybody's asking what I did on my birthday. THIS is what I did on my birthday:

http://spencerranch.net/adventure/

It was quite a lot of fun.



On a completely unrelated note: WTF is this shit!?


-Kid (no, seriously... WTF?)

If you wonder if I've been drawing: I have.

If you wonder if I'm alright: I am

If you wonder why I haven't written back: I'm a douche-bag

A few important things:

Firstly, I haven't seen Spider-man 3. As a point of courtesy, I'd have you to stop writing/calling to discuss it with me. Not because I don't love you, but because do I want to see it someday, so quit spoiling it.

Secondly, whether you're an enthusiast, or have a passing acquaintance with genre fiction, if you're off the Lost wagon, you got some 'splainin' to do. The second season got pretty lame toward the end, but we're knee-deep in ass kickery here on the back half of season three.

Wait for the DVD's, but watch it.
Seriously.

A brief aside, but related. BattleStar Galactica: DO IT!

Before I close, I'd just like to say that I am smitten... and I am witholding a terrible itch. A titanic urge to write songs and sonnets, worse still: JOURNAL entries, to sing her praises, as I am wont to do when I find myself in the heat of a smite. I cannot, though, indeed I hesitate to even speak her NAME here, for fear that the dropping of my tongue, and clatter of keys will prompt her to dry up and blow away.

... what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you all be reading MINUS!?

Well you should.

-Kid

MINUS!

I've embarked on a sizable fall, followed by a somewhat remarkable return to normalcy. Art seems to be steadily trickling back to ancient and whither-dry digits and wonder back into musty and all but abandoned recesses.  I think that fearlessness may have found its way back to me as well. Sometimes the slings and arrows are just easier to suffer. Even when rebellion against them yeilds wild and unimagined places beyond reckoning.

I have been thinking a lot about the past. No... not that. Not her. People well worth the retrospect.

Growing up, I oft found myself lumped together with a certain breed of person. The kind of person that everyone seemed hopeful about and for.

We went 'round with expectations pinned to us like notes from teacher.
We were the hopes of a place in the grasp of death. A hopeful and hoping generation spawned  on the edge of oblivion, and charged with the rescue of a place that persisted somewhere between turmoil and irrelevance. I cannot profess to have been special, or to be any such thing now... but back there... for us. It sure did seem like a lot of folks needed us to be. I couldn't tell you where they all are. Not now.

 Jeff joined the Army. He has a family, seems like the same stir-crazy genius, too grand for mortal trappings. But contained therein, nontheless. Matt is a teacher, or such is my understanding. He seems pretty happy.

Everyone else? Dropped beyond the veil. Taken by the aether... or succumbed to mundanity. If those are even different things.

It feels like there's a vice tightening around my insides... For every step taken toward it, notoriety seems to take two in the same direction.

A little further out of reach.

 When we are old and dying, we will look back on these years, and the years in the interim and we willl see ourselves as either the ghosts of some greatness. A legacy kick-started or held aloft.... or as the frail and old jokes. The dust of what could have BEEN greatness.

So, Dust or Ghosts gentlemen?

What'll it be?

Madness?


This is SPARTA!

Sewing is a goddamned adventure.

Three cheers for needles, thread and those who weild them the way some people wield batarangs and grappling guns.

What? ... I'm a comics guy. What do you want from me!?

I am forging with mine own hands, sweat and herculean if not sloppy sort of affection, a gift for she who is unintentionally stealing more and more of me everyday. It will be a mess. A beautiful mess, spectacular and unending. It's radiance shall dim the very sun... in theory, that is.

Insofar as excecution goes? Well, we're still working on that whole spectacular part. Though, the mess? We got that on lock. I can hook you up with a mess in any one of ten different colors. We can even install it FOR you at your place of employment.

A quick word about Children of Men:

Fantastic. 

More words follow:

The movie in itself is like a test of endurance. An abominable contest to see how many times your heart can break per minute until you DIE. The future is horrible and the only country worth a damn is britain. Who'd want to live in a future like that?!

That said, go see it.