So I just got this Miles Davis album, “Get Up With It” and am listening to it at six-thirty in the morning and it’s dark out still and the damn thing is rather creepy. Like Dario Argento creepy.
The house is in disarray right now and it’s throwing off my game; we’re in the middle of packing for the big move down to Pilson and nothing is where it should be, a sort of limbo existence punctuated by bouts of determined purpose and riddled with patches of sodden malaise. Ie, lots of sitting around wondering what to do. Not a lot of room to move around.
I wonder how doped up Miles was when he made this.
Coma #2 is in the works, waiting for proof approval.
This is the worst thing I’ve ever written, I’m out of here.
Note: Do not listen to esoteric jazz while trying to be funny/witty.
Second note: Do not try to be funny/witty.
Laturz.

It’s a rainy Saturday morning and there’s a lot on my mind. Sitting here listening to Richard Wagner’s Die Walkure and thinking I’m not nearly epic enough; I don’t understand what the hell these virtuosos are saying but damn if it’s not passionate. Do I need to learn German? I don’t know. My Spanish needs to up, we’re moving in October to a new neighborhood and I think the only bookstore in the ‘hood sells “libros religiosos”… so if I need to read the book of Job in Espanol, I’m in luck. You never know, the need may arise.
Stressed about my work. Making ends meet is hampering my drawing time and I’ve been sneaking an hour or two here and there but it’s not the kind of cathartic soul expellation that I desire. I used to think I was happiest when I had nothing going for me other than a daily dose of drawing and nobody caring who or where I was. Do I need to learn German? I don’t know, I think of Cavalier and Klay and him hiding out in that skyscraper, drawing in the supply closet and something inside my chest begins to ache. I’ve begun pencilling “The Gift: Part 2″ and it’s been a tremendous relief, it’s such a different experience than writing. To see what you’ve done before you, rotate the page, look at it in a mirror, erase, redraw, or leave it alone but it’s THERE. Nothing in the world like it for me - after all, I am not a bricklayer or a gardener or a construction site foreman.
Sometimes life is like the waves, though, and it’s so busy bashing and pulling and pushing and slamming you around that it’s all you can do to remain breathing and above water and when the barrage is over you have no idea where you’ve ended up. Sometimes you come out of it pretty battered and in it to your eyelids, sometimes you’re on dry land.
Well, I’m out. There’s a wedding to attend today and packing to do and self-loathing to embark upon.
I will still be signing at The Comic Vault, Ashland and Montrose, on Saturday Oct. 11. Contact me for more information or if you need directions. If all works well we’ll have Coma #2 printed up by then and the hilarity will ensue!
Cazart!