I’ll try it on the western front
I’ve slightly altered my process for social media and fun. Typically I pencil the entire book first and then inking is my reward for setting the shoulder and eating that horse. I don’t feel particularly proud of my pencils- they’re fine, but they’re skeletal and incomplete.
It’s twenty to six in the morning. I’m eating eggs on the kitchen counter waiting for my bike shorts to dry so I can go pretend to have abdominal issues at the hospital for students who know better. The sun was out all yesterday and it made me feel like the virgin in the assumption by SIR PPR back when you had to bury your shit. Pictured below.
I’m really enjoying the Vorrh by B. Catlin. I did the hipster thing and bounced off fantasy for a number of years as it became more mainstream. It’s not that serious. He reminds me of Marlon James or Gene Wolfe: a writer’s writer who expects that you will catch up or go do something else with your precious time.
One of my New Year’s resolutions in 2023(!) was to play more video games because I don’t have time to do anything evaporative and fun. I have not yet fully achieved that but man, Bloodborne really is as good as they say. Alan Wake 2 I may simply never finish but I’ve loved every second of it. I have a lot of unfinished games. That’s fine. Fun doesn’t necessitate a win-state.
Reread some of Grant Morrison’s Batman. I’m maybe more of an apologist than millionaire Morrison needs, but I love their work. Even when they’ve drunk their own kool aid they always offer something beautiful or imaginative. They really seem to care about superheroes in a manner that does not reek of Brit-invasion smirk. They’re open eyed and hoping for the best.
I’m really enjoying the audiobook to Jesus wept by Peter Sheron. It keeps me company as I scoot around town. The Vatican is a great setting for almost any kind of story. This one is dynastic, from John XXIII through the current woke Pope, both of whom are the best case scenarios for a job that almost by definition cannot be done well. Vatican 2 to the Biden administration is a big chunk of time and I really truly appreciate the granularity.
We took (well, molly took while I was working) our oldest, meanest cat to the vet yesterday. He’s fine. He is either twelve or thirteen. In the back nine. Maybe we throw him a bar mitzvah. I have had pets die. Every pet I grew up with. Scootch, the angry jerk, is different. We found him as a tiny kitten on the streets of Brooklyn maybe a year into dating. He’s been with us the entire time. Moved across the country with us. His death, when it comes, will wreck me. I have no doubt about that. How could I? It’s just going to be different with him. A small case of ashes labeled with his name. Scootch Dechenne. He didn’t take his father’s name. What a dick.
I’ll be in Georgia in a month to hang out with the great Abby Kacen at SPLAT and FLUKE. I’m very excited. Abby has managerial qualities cartooning as a community could really benefit from. Their art kicks a lot of ass. I’ll be sharing the stage with a scrappy little up and comer named Caroline Cash or something. Come out and watch me Tecumseh Sherman (verb: start fires, spill salt, Georgia specific).
