The Bad Dream.

Myself and some other comic artists did a sighing- I mean SIGNING at Mile high comics the other day. Home of the biggest selection of super heroes you’ll find  anywhere on the planet, and just about no (besides of course the obvious stuff like Love & Rockets) Alternative comics. So naturally I showed up with my stapled sadness (Blammo) and prepared for the currency to roll in. It did not. Here’s a picture of myself and Sam Spina in front of some statues of heroes.

I never wanted to do anything but what I’m doing now. Well, Technically I wanted to be a paleontologist for a while when I was a kid (Something to do with how much I enjoyed drawing Dinosaurs and Jurassic Park), but that was in between wanting to draw for a living.  Lately though, I haven’t been drawing as much. I just can’t finish a page anymore. I’ve got so many things to do…. I think I might be burnt out. I put a pen in my hand and put my hand down on bristol board and it wont do what it usually does. I’ve pushed myself too hard.  So, I am going to take a little break. Relax somehow. read some books. Sleep. And I’ll get back to it soon.

Below is a 2 page comic that I drew for Blammo 4 waaaaaay back in the day. Maybe 2 years ago? I can’t remember. I do remember drawing it though. On a winter night sitting on a futon cushion.  I’ve always really liked it. But I don’t think anybody else really cared for it. It was one of the first comics I drew that wasn’t about me, or anybody that I knew. Now, that’s really all I do. Now i just work on writing stories well. Making things up that seem believable.

WARNING: Profanity in my comics emphasize my character’s speech, and represent the way that young people in our modern age ACTUALLY talk. If this offends you, or your values, do not read further. I make zero apologies in my depiction of people.

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Scratchy uneven lines.

 

It’s been snowing and it’s been cold. I walked down to the Denver Art Museum this afternoon. I looked at the art again. What is wrong with me? What’s unplugged? I can’t even afford pens. And I really, really want to get back to drawing. When can I laugh at this? How absurd it is to be pushing 30, and living on 1920s wages.