Today would have been her 35th. I spent most of the day comparing my silly ride of a life to what hers might have been. Now, I do not believe in any afterlife, but I do feel that endless rest would be a helluva lot more copacetic than this ratfink existence. I think her frustrated temper would have landed her in prison eventually, or maybe dead by some other means. I hate to admit that, but it is solemn truth.
I had made a pact with myself awhile back, that July 1st I would leave. I liked the symmetry of the middle of the year, and anyhow my reserves are well beyond the state of being fucking empty. I do not even have fumes left. No prospects. Over 250 applications in the past eighteen weeks and I cannot even afford personal copies of the works I have coming out now and in months to come. Living off of white rice and black coffee (the yin-yang diet!), walking everywhere, walking nowhere. Just constantly replaying every moment of the past on a loop in my head, every moment of turmoil and pain. I had found myself at more funerals than everybody I know combined, even before my time as a gravedigger. What the hell am I fighting for? I need so much more than merely a holy grail. I shifted my paradigm over the edge of the Earth. The abyss did not just gaze back at me, it showed me the FNORDS and still somehow I am always too exhausted even to sleep. I wish my memories were a tangible, physical thing, so I could use my trusty hammer to remove each and every one.
Anyway, Rebecca was a tough cookie. We used to joke in our Bukowskian way and tell each other that if you grow up poor enough, then you cannot afford to lose a fight. But she did, eventually. Put up such a fight against her boyfriend Benjamin Mills that she bit off her own tongue and her left eye popped out of her skull.
Before that nightmare ending, she was also exceedingly beautiful. I tossed my copy of the medical examiner's autopsy report ages ago, as it inspired far too many nights of solo binge drinking. She had fire and an incredible voice that she wouldn't really show off unless she had a few mugs of tequila in her. Then of course, all bets were off.
But no matter how much I miss her, I am...glad that she is not stuck here in this mess with the rest of us.
30 June 2010
28 June 2010
storm!
A huge electrical storm is moving in. So incredibly energizing. I love a good thunderstorm, where the sky turns all to hell with crackling cracked window pane lightning sharding through the darkness all over the place.
Actually, I always believed that big storms like this pup are where religions were born. Zeus throwing his thunderbolts at the ill-read cavemen and cavewomen. Thor playing with his hammer in front of everyone. Hell on Earth. Mama Nature going premenstrual. Audio-visual sensory theater perfected.
Cool, strong winds blast blast blasting away the triple-digit heat index suffocation of the daylight hours is completely welcome. Maybe I'll get struck by a flash of lightning and become a true blue, died in the wool supervillain. Must.
Destroy.
Humanity.
Actually, I always believed that big storms like this pup are where religions were born. Zeus throwing his thunderbolts at the ill-read cavemen and cavewomen. Thor playing with his hammer in front of everyone. Hell on Earth. Mama Nature going premenstrual. Audio-visual sensory theater perfected.
Cool, strong winds blast blast blasting away the triple-digit heat index suffocation of the daylight hours is completely welcome. Maybe I'll get struck by a flash of lightning and become a true blue, died in the wool supervillain. Must.
Destroy.
Humanity.
27 June 2010
trenchmouth
June 29th would be my dead sister's 35th birthday. The 10th anniversary of her murder will be September 18th of this year.
July 6th will make one full year of homelessly living out of bags.
Since my return to louEVIL February 17th of this year, I have applied to over 200 places for employment. Rare oddjobs trickle in bits of cash, but I am owed and owed and owed. I have no money and no food and no bourbon and no cigarettes. This life has been shite. I have nothing but pained memories and not a fucking thing in the world to look forward to.
I want to kick babies and puppies and say mean things aloud in crowded public places.
July 6th will make one full year of homelessly living out of bags.
Since my return to louEVIL February 17th of this year, I have applied to over 200 places for employment. Rare oddjobs trickle in bits of cash, but I am owed and owed and owed. I have no money and no food and no bourbon and no cigarettes. This life has been shite. I have nothing but pained memories and not a fucking thing in the world to look forward to.
I want to kick babies and puppies and say mean things aloud in crowded public places.
25 June 2010
Rafferty!
My script from page one...
Rafferty
Created by Richard Caldwell and Andy Dawe-Collins
Page 1
Panel 1:
First panel is an afternoon skyline splash of suburbia generica, with each additional panel on this page an inset to the one before it, like pulling the reader down through a tunnel. Each frame can have a slightly off-kilter angle to it.
Caption: CDC and ANA present...
Panel 2:
A funny angled side view of a young teen boy's head, looking off camera. He is approximately all of a scrawny 13, light brown hair and blue eyes, with a melancholy look on his face, though lower half of mug is obstructed by bottom of the frame here.
Boy (via caption): "Call me Ishmael."
Panel 3:
A closer shot of the boy, with the growing reveal around his head that he is sitting on the roof of a house.
Boy (via caption): "Just kidding. My name is really-"
Panel 4:
An extreme closeup of Rafferty's left eye.
Caption: "---Rafferty."
Wanna see Andy's killer artwork for the finished ten page story, along with a loaded book of great works from a mess of other creators?
We're Indy! Rise of the INDEPENDENTS now available at indyplanet.
Rafferty
Created by Richard Caldwell and Andy Dawe-Collins
Page 1
Panel 1:
First panel is an afternoon skyline splash of suburbia generica, with each additional panel on this page an inset to the one before it, like pulling the reader down through a tunnel. Each frame can have a slightly off-kilter angle to it.
Caption: CDC and ANA present...
Panel 2:
A funny angled side view of a young teen boy's head, looking off camera. He is approximately all of a scrawny 13, light brown hair and blue eyes, with a melancholy look on his face, though lower half of mug is obstructed by bottom of the frame here.
Boy (via caption): "Call me Ishmael."
Panel 3:
A closer shot of the boy, with the growing reveal around his head that he is sitting on the roof of a house.
Boy (via caption): "Just kidding. My name is really-"
Panel 4:
An extreme closeup of Rafferty's left eye.
Caption: "---Rafferty."
Wanna see Andy's killer artwork for the finished ten page story, along with a loaded book of great works from a mess of other creators?
We're Indy! Rise of the INDEPENDENTS now available at indyplanet.
24 June 2010
page 23 plus 1
This is the first issue of a Romanian literary journal from early last year. I have an article here, beginning on page 24.
Nicolette was a long damn time ago. I had begun to tell her tale to a friend earlier today, but in doing so reminded myself of this zine's existence.
Like an expansive addiction, the raw newness of relationships tends to erode quickly as soon as either party learns of the apparent misrepresentations of the other. In special cases such as what prompted this part of my life...she and I were equally full of it. Full of plain wrong. And I regret nothing.
(Though I do like being "that guy" who was once published in a lit rag from werewolf-land.)
22 June 2010
from a letter to a friend-
"Why do Michael Bay movies gross more than Woody Allen flicks? Why does the Uncanny X-Men consistently outsell everything published by Drawn & Quarterly combined? I think deep down, we in Western Civilization want the sex, drugs, and rock and roll that hell promises. We don't want to be good for the sake of being good. We want the violent immediacy of escape. I feel our culture, our Art, is a reflection of that. The print trade industry is dying and libraries are shutting down everywhere, while the gaming industry is booming. Why read Hesse or Campbell when we can more literally reenact hell on earth via first person shooter video games? It's where my thoughts have been going the past year, and a big reason why I can't do reviews or interviews anymore. I've met a ton of good folks, hard working and with families to fend for, who are having their dreams squashed because they lack the sexy explosiveness that leads to sales receipts. Virtues be damned. I know there are always exceptions to the rule, to any rule. But if Freud were alive today he'd pee himself."
21 June 2010
AXIS bodyspray
Wanna be a hit with the ladies? Strong enough for a man, made for a nazi, AXIS bodyspray is the only way to go!
20 June 2010
Father's Day In The Sun
Yesterday, I began a new side job with the Kentucky Justice Association. It will be irregular, unfortunately, but the day was interesting and informative. A very think tank feel, and I kept getting mental flashes of the old Twelve Angry Men flick. However, I had to examine autopsy photos of a six year old girl...which was a gruesome thing. I believe in social justice vehemently, and will continue looking for ways to reprise that interest. I believe in Free Speech and I believe in Freedom of the Press. But those damn pics...
The evening continued in a decidedly different direction though, as my housemates Al and Natalie were celebrating Nat's 23rd birthday. On my own 23rd I was let down dramatically, as I had made the prior pact with myself that, if at any point in the future I should happen to stumble across a time machine or other means withwhich to travel through the timestream, I would go back to my 23rd birthday and have a nice, long talk with myself. But my day came and went and I never was able to meet myself, which means that even should I live for a hundred years I will never in that time encounter a time traveling device. I took it hard. But we did try to have fun here last night. I drank a plenitude, reminding myself once again that bottles are rightly not designed for emotion.
And now today, I wake from the standard bizarre dreams to an empty house, the flatmates having gone swimming somewhere in this disgusting heat. My dad was found in a Texan field in early September of 1998. The medical examiner's report was inconclusive of the exact day of death, as his body had been ravaged by the Texas sun and moreso by Texas fire ants. So I appreciate the brief taste of solitude today. I like my flatmates though- they are damn good kids, good people with their heads on their shoulders and their hearts on their sleeves.
As I ready a couple of packages to send out tomorrow, I end this one with a left field plug. My friend Richard Serrao is relocating his own blog from the trenches of myspace to the fabled halls of blogger/blogspot. I did the exact same thing two or three years back. Serrao is an incredible writer and artist, so bookmark his new spot right stat. I've been meaning to do a post pointing out some of the many blogs I dig following, but he gets extra love because Optimum Wound is the coolest. So there.
The evening continued in a decidedly different direction though, as my housemates Al and Natalie were celebrating Nat's 23rd birthday. On my own 23rd I was let down dramatically, as I had made the prior pact with myself that, if at any point in the future I should happen to stumble across a time machine or other means withwhich to travel through the timestream, I would go back to my 23rd birthday and have a nice, long talk with myself. But my day came and went and I never was able to meet myself, which means that even should I live for a hundred years I will never in that time encounter a time traveling device. I took it hard. But we did try to have fun here last night. I drank a plenitude, reminding myself once again that bottles are rightly not designed for emotion.
And now today, I wake from the standard bizarre dreams to an empty house, the flatmates having gone swimming somewhere in this disgusting heat. My dad was found in a Texan field in early September of 1998. The medical examiner's report was inconclusive of the exact day of death, as his body had been ravaged by the Texas sun and moreso by Texas fire ants. So I appreciate the brief taste of solitude today. I like my flatmates though- they are damn good kids, good people with their heads on their shoulders and their hearts on their sleeves.
As I ready a couple of packages to send out tomorrow, I end this one with a left field plug. My friend Richard Serrao is relocating his own blog from the trenches of myspace to the fabled halls of blogger/blogspot. I did the exact same thing two or three years back. Serrao is an incredible writer and artist, so bookmark his new spot right stat. I've been meaning to do a post pointing out some of the many blogs I dig following, but he gets extra love because Optimum Wound is the coolest. So there.
17 June 2010
Death of my Mjollnir
My laptop has at last, passed quietly into the night.
It was already secondhand when it was given to me a year and a half back, was a glorified paperweight at that time until I put almost two hundred shells into fixing her up. Alas, she has been running slower and slower these past several months, and despite the mileage I milked from her she is now officially six feet deep.
And me, gainfully unemployed and with nothing saved.
It will likely be a spell, some weeks or possibly even months, before I can score a new system. I may sneak online here and there via my flatmate's computer, but I actually look forward to taking advantage of this time to pull back even further from the social sphere.
Be good.
(But on a positive note, my housemates picked up an old tandem bicycle today. And lord, ain't this fun!)
(But on a positive note, my housemates picked up an old tandem bicycle today. And lord, ain't this fun!)
15 June 2010
Super Samurai
I said that I would be having multiple projects coming out for the rest of the year, and as much as I would like to verify that I am indeed the lazy and unprofessional hack that others seem intent on labeling me as, I really meant it. Even having dropped comic book journalism along with most creative endeavors, I always work ahead of the game, so the past will be playing catch up for a spell.
My good friend Nuno TeiXEIra has finally launched his Super Samurai Magazine, with the first issue now available through the Drive-Thru Comics family of sites.
A long time ago, XEI had approached me concerning an installment of my old column, the Lottery Party, wherein I had shared observations regarding the usage (or rather, the general lack thereof) of Christianity in modern fiction. XEI loved the piece, and asked if I'd be up for expanding the article for his Super Samurai effort. Of course I obliged.
Now, this mag is certainly one for the gamers, particularly the RPG fanatics although many grounds are expertly covered. Indeed, the content delves into a broad range of topics, from articles examining the personalities of traditional and non-traditional gaming character archetypes, to observations on underutilized genres, to profiles for new characters and settings and plot points (all of which could be incorporated into a vast array of different games, actually, not just the suggested Mutants & Masterminds Superlink properties), even some fiction and comic strips. Great stuff, extremely well-thought out, and packaged with a mass of gorgeous illustrations and spot art. XEI has attracted a strong mix of jazzy talents to this project (present company excluded) and I look forward to future issues.
A stone solid offering of food for creative thought.
My good friend Nuno TeiXEIra has finally launched his Super Samurai Magazine, with the first issue now available through the Drive-Thru Comics family of sites.
A long time ago, XEI had approached me concerning an installment of my old column, the Lottery Party, wherein I had shared observations regarding the usage (or rather, the general lack thereof) of Christianity in modern fiction. XEI loved the piece, and asked if I'd be up for expanding the article for his Super Samurai effort. Of course I obliged.
Now, this mag is certainly one for the gamers, particularly the RPG fanatics although many grounds are expertly covered. Indeed, the content delves into a broad range of topics, from articles examining the personalities of traditional and non-traditional gaming character archetypes, to observations on underutilized genres, to profiles for new characters and settings and plot points (all of which could be incorporated into a vast array of different games, actually, not just the suggested Mutants & Masterminds Superlink properties), even some fiction and comic strips. Great stuff, extremely well-thought out, and packaged with a mass of gorgeous illustrations and spot art. XEI has attracted a strong mix of jazzy talents to this project (present company excluded) and I look forward to future issues.
A stone solid offering of food for creative thought.
14 June 2010
Autumn Painted Red
It looks as though the cover for the upcoming book Autumn Painted Red, has been settled upon, bringing the total project that much closer to printing and distribution. 
My contribution was a rather sizable essay, My Little Lovers, focused on the psychological effects the Ripper murders have increasingly held over media in general and popular culture in particular throughout the one hundred and twenty or so years since. The book is really the love labour of Alex Ness though, with his pal Joe Monks stepping in for the introduction and publishing rights, and Joe's bird Pam Hazelton contributing as well, with the three together designing the whole package. The three of them really did 90% of the actual work. Regardless, as soon as I attain order info I will certainly post it here, even though I won't actually have the green to score copies for myself. All said, believe that this volume will raise a lot of eyebrows, I guarantee. Of course there have been a nigh-uncountable inundation of assorted works examining the case, but the contributors of this text honestly reach for something new, and our collective years of intensive research on the subject will undoubtedly express nothing less.
My contribution was a rather sizable essay, My Little Lovers, focused on the psychological effects the Ripper murders have increasingly held over media in general and popular culture in particular throughout the one hundred and twenty or so years since. The book is really the love labour of Alex Ness though, with his pal Joe Monks stepping in for the introduction and publishing rights, and Joe's bird Pam Hazelton contributing as well, with the three together designing the whole package. The three of them really did 90% of the actual work. Regardless, as soon as I attain order info I will certainly post it here, even though I won't actually have the green to score copies for myself. All said, believe that this volume will raise a lot of eyebrows, I guarantee. Of course there have been a nigh-uncountable inundation of assorted works examining the case, but the contributors of this text honestly reach for something new, and our collective years of intensive research on the subject will undoubtedly express nothing less.
dodgem logic the fourth
Dodgem Logic issue #4, produced by that Alan Moore fella and friends is now available! Under a nefariously homophobe-frightening cover by the always stellar John Coulthart, this helping also offers up such points of interest as a gallery from Melinda Gebbie (Lost Girls illustrator extraordinaire) along with writings from the likes of the Fortean Steve Moore (who is sadly leaving comics following an adventurous but underappreciated run on Radical's Hercules series) as well as Dick Foreman (scripter of Vertigo's excellent Black Orchid ongoing from years ago).
Political and cultural commentary with tongue planted firmly in cheek, Dodgem Logic is continuing its bold experimentations at breathing new life into the dying periodicals trade.
See for yourself why, stat!
Al Williamson
I am hearing reports that the great Al Williamson is no longer with us. The man's name is all over the contents of my longboxes (particularly Spider-Man 2099, ranging Punisher stuff, Spider-Girl, the Star Wars reprints from Dark Horse, even some early New Warriors...), but I will leave the obituaries to those better suited.
I loved the sharp cleanliness of his style though, the realism and amazing versatility. In his later career he did less full line art and more inking and finishing (over everyone from Jack Kirby to Rick Leonardi), and as tremendous an inker as he was, his full illustrative work showcased a style that bettered even his own influences. So I am posting one of my favorite Flash Gordon images of his to show his clear, exquisite mastery of the craft.
Very sad, sad news.
I loved the sharp cleanliness of his style though, the realism and amazing versatility. In his later career he did less full line art and more inking and finishing (over everyone from Jack Kirby to Rick Leonardi), and as tremendous an inker as he was, his full illustrative work showcased a style that bettered even his own influences. So I am posting one of my favorite Flash Gordon images of his to show his clear, exquisite mastery of the craft.
Very sad, sad news.
Mark Evanier has the best obit I've yet read, right here.
13 June 2010
12 June 2010
pipeworks
A quick rundown of the current haunts of mine amongst these mighty intrawebs.
teetotalism - I am extremely active on twitter, and have been since the start of last year. Who I follow is a constantly changing list, as I'm more interested in sharing ideas there than just following anybody for the sake of mindless following. Equally, I have always been mindful as to who I allow to follow me. I can smell a spammer from a continuum away, and anyone who professes to be a Christian especially gets blocked, to save them the trouble of being offended later on. Originally I used my nilskidoo nom de plume, but with this new year I opted to instead pay homage to Steve Ditko's greatest creation. I get mileage here. I have made friends and I have found work. And I have ranted a wee bit too.
blues - I am relatively new on fizy, and still exploring the site. I took an immediate liking to its simplicity of use and the consistent strength of its connection and playability. I love music, and still have a milk-crate full of ancient mixtapes I made way back in the stone age. I first learned of this portal's existence thanks to my friend Melike Acar. This, after a longtime presence at blip.fm which I gradually grew to be very weary of, thanks largely to repeated phishing attempts and a number of ex-ladyfriends. The difference between the two websites is like the clarity between day and night. Thanks, Mel!
wreck'd - And I have been involved with wreckamovie for quite awhile as well, a free site all about international collaborative filmmaking. The folks thereabouts are for the most part, refreshingly egoless. And the giant, ranging assortment of projects and overall creative spirit all amounts to a mess of fun. Highly recommended to all artisans and fans.
And of course, the Vomitoria. It's a blog group I run, and I recommend it like suicide.
Although a fun testament to the mass of online writing I've accomplished over the years, as well as the miscellanea of forums and and the like that I've at least sampled and sized up, can be found here in these 19 pages of good grief. (...and AUM Shiva all to hell!!!)
teetotalism - I am extremely active on twitter, and have been since the start of last year. Who I follow is a constantly changing list, as I'm more interested in sharing ideas there than just following anybody for the sake of mindless following. Equally, I have always been mindful as to who I allow to follow me. I can smell a spammer from a continuum away, and anyone who professes to be a Christian especially gets blocked, to save them the trouble of being offended later on. Originally I used my nilskidoo nom de plume, but with this new year I opted to instead pay homage to Steve Ditko's greatest creation. I get mileage here. I have made friends and I have found work. And I have ranted a wee bit too.
blues - I am relatively new on fizy, and still exploring the site. I took an immediate liking to its simplicity of use and the consistent strength of its connection and playability. I love music, and still have a milk-crate full of ancient mixtapes I made way back in the stone age. I first learned of this portal's existence thanks to my friend Melike Acar. This, after a longtime presence at blip.fm which I gradually grew to be very weary of, thanks largely to repeated phishing attempts and a number of ex-ladyfriends. The difference between the two websites is like the clarity between day and night. Thanks, Mel!
wreck'd - And I have been involved with wreckamovie for quite awhile as well, a free site all about international collaborative filmmaking. The folks thereabouts are for the most part, refreshingly egoless. And the giant, ranging assortment of projects and overall creative spirit all amounts to a mess of fun. Highly recommended to all artisans and fans.
And of course, the Vomitoria. It's a blog group I run, and I recommend it like suicide.
Although a fun testament to the mass of online writing I've accomplished over the years, as well as the miscellanea of forums and and the like that I've at least sampled and sized up, can be found here in these 19 pages of good grief. (...and AUM Shiva all to hell!!!)
angel's hair and baby's breath
I was recently asked to write the introduction for the trade collecting John B. Lai's Stiletto mini-series, published through his Ultimate Comics Group label. I was honored and stunned and I really did wrestle with it. But I like the final product, very much. John informs me that he is switching POD service from the Ka-Blam/indyplanet/comicsmonkey triarchy on over to comixpress, with the final issue of the actual Stiletto mini available there, and the trade/OGN soon to follow. Now, I had been asked about a year back to compose an intro for another trade, but that offer flaked out completely. I learned through this experience though, that such a project is not really much of an easy effort at all, by any definitions of the imagination. But it turned out rather nice, and I was glad to do it for such a book.
I am still yet adamant about dropping down to fanboy livelihood, dropping down from reviewer/interviewer status and comic book journalism in particular, although I find no qualms in continuing to assist actual friends, persons who legitimately COMMUNICATE. In some of the cases most afflicted by my sudden absence, persons are finding that ignoring me only leads to my returning the favor. And sadly, said folks do not take kindly to little old me no longer being willing to do their work for them. Just chalk me up forever now as a free agent, a man of prejudiced (and so learned) taste who will never again be a part of any fucking collective.
The truth however, is that this ancient laptop of mine has been running on fumes for quite a spell. And moreso, I have been experiencing a royal bitch of a time at finding "real" work, with people a good deal younger than myself informing me they have no open positions after all, for one of my talents. I feel so fucking close to the edge, like I am ready at long long last to just start taking what I want, what I need. But unlike most Amerikkkans, I do have a conscience. I am neither arrogant or rotten; as well, I do not need these sudden and current health concerns to feel oh so fucking beyond my meager years. I cough up fistfuls of blood nightly, and migraines hit me as regularly as the sunrise. Clean living, without insurance or credit.
Simply put- I will no longer work for free, though I will look out for persons who deserve limelight but are thusly ignored by the general media outlets. Meanwhile, I am pushing for non-fiction, non-comix related media tradescribing gigs, but I ain't holding my breath. I appreciate the experience of rocking the boat for others, but all the same
I could let go for good, at any fucking moment. Eternal sleep is more seductive right now than the most red-haired mermaid, believe you me.
Adversely, I was able to have an article published at BleedingCool today, which was nice. Johnston is a cooler cat than some folks give him credit for, and it was a royally Discordian kick in the pants to see an indy book represented thusly at one of the larger sites. So clearly, I am a loser and I should fucking die already.
I am still yet adamant about dropping down to fanboy livelihood, dropping down from reviewer/interviewer status and comic book journalism in particular, although I find no qualms in continuing to assist actual friends, persons who legitimately COMMUNICATE. In some of the cases most afflicted by my sudden absence, persons are finding that ignoring me only leads to my returning the favor. And sadly, said folks do not take kindly to little old me no longer being willing to do their work for them. Just chalk me up forever now as a free agent, a man of prejudiced (and so learned) taste who will never again be a part of any fucking collective.
The truth however, is that this ancient laptop of mine has been running on fumes for quite a spell. And moreso, I have been experiencing a royal bitch of a time at finding "real" work, with people a good deal younger than myself informing me they have no open positions after all, for one of my talents. I feel so fucking close to the edge, like I am ready at long long last to just start taking what I want, what I need. But unlike most Amerikkkans, I do have a conscience. I am neither arrogant or rotten; as well, I do not need these sudden and current health concerns to feel oh so fucking beyond my meager years. I cough up fistfuls of blood nightly, and migraines hit me as regularly as the sunrise. Clean living, without insurance or credit.
Simply put- I will no longer work for free, though I will look out for persons who deserve limelight but are thusly ignored by the general media outlets. Meanwhile, I am pushing for non-fiction, non-comix related media tradescribing gigs, but I ain't holding my breath. I appreciate the experience of rocking the boat for others, but all the same
I could let go for good, at any fucking moment. Eternal sleep is more seductive right now than the most red-haired mermaid, believe you me.
Adversely, I was able to have an article published at BleedingCool today, which was nice. Johnston is a cooler cat than some folks give him credit for, and it was a royally Discordian kick in the pants to see an indy book represented thusly at one of the larger sites. So clearly, I am a loser and I should fucking die already.
11 June 2010
self-love
Over the past few weeks I've been working on a group interview with John Chihak and Venus of Necro, the tagteam behind Fuzzyface: The Agnew Chainsaw Massacre from Chihak's Anti-Hero Brand Press label.
And of course, he is part of the Vomitoria familia.
As I parted from the world of comic book journalism while the interview was yet in progress, Bleeding Cool's Rich Johnston was gracious enough to find a home for the article, right here:
http://www.bleedingcool.com/2010/06/11/richard-caldwell-interviews-john-chihak-and-venus-of-necro
This would be my second official article for Bleeding Cool now, not counting forum silliness and occasionally discussing possible news tips with the powers that be up yonder. But the interview turned out great, and Fuzzyface is polka incarnate.
And of course, he is part of the Vomitoria familia.
As I parted from the world of comic book journalism while the interview was yet in progress, Bleeding Cool's Rich Johnston was gracious enough to find a home for the article, right here:
http://www.bleedingcool.com/2010/06/11/richard-caldwell-interviews-john-chihak-and-venus-of-necro
This would be my second official article for Bleeding Cool now, not counting forum silliness and occasionally discussing possible news tips with the powers that be up yonder. But the interview turned out great, and Fuzzyface is polka incarnate.
09 June 2010
SP!N 5
Well, I just noticed that issue number five of the SP! Nexus digital magazine is now up and available for free download, right here. Only two months late, and so far from what I've read, nowhere near as many frustrating errors as the previous issue (except misspelling my friend Javier's name on the table of contents, for starters).
A royal boatload of content from yours truly though, including...
Massively indepth interviews with Alterna Publishing founder Peter Simeti and self-publishing godfather Javier Hernandez, as well as an advance review of the legendary Sandy Plunkett's new masterpiece of an art book, The World Of A Wayward Comic Book Artist.
On the reviews front, I examined hundreds of pages of good old comics, such as Radical's Aladdin: Legacy Of The Lost #3 (great finish to a great mini), Orang Utan's giant FTL Year One collection (featuring work from, among many others, the always good Dwight MacPherson), Radical's Hotwire trade (oh so good!), Hernandez's body of el Muerto comix, the Matriarch graphic novel from Arcana, the Edge issues 1 and 2 from Ronin Studios, Radical's The Last Days Of American Crime #2, the European Union's graphic novel Hidden Disaster, and Visionary's The Regulators #1. Nine big reviews.
Also, I had arranged for the A.N.A. Comics Spring Anthology, We're Indy! Rise of the INDEPENDENTS to be reviewed as well (seeing as how there's a 10 pager story in there from me and the unbelievably talented Mr. Andy Dawe-Collins).
I can still think of at least five more reviews I've turned in over the past several weeks, and I'm hoping they also see the light of day, most likely in the debut issue of the Zedura print mag (or possibly the Zedura SDCC print special). As I might later repost all of these SP!N articles here anyway (past and present) for archival purposes, I may well do the same with those remaining. All in all though, this is probably the most solid issue of the magazine yet. I know the subjects I hit are all especially fantastic, so check it out already. It's free, by god.
A royal boatload of content from yours truly though, including...
Massively indepth interviews with Alterna Publishing founder Peter Simeti and self-publishing godfather Javier Hernandez, as well as an advance review of the legendary Sandy Plunkett's new masterpiece of an art book, The World Of A Wayward Comic Book Artist.
On the reviews front, I examined hundreds of pages of good old comics, such as Radical's Aladdin: Legacy Of The Lost #3 (great finish to a great mini), Orang Utan's giant FTL Year One collection (featuring work from, among many others, the always good Dwight MacPherson), Radical's Hotwire trade (oh so good!), Hernandez's body of el Muerto comix, the Matriarch graphic novel from Arcana, the Edge issues 1 and 2 from Ronin Studios, Radical's The Last Days Of American Crime #2, the European Union's graphic novel Hidden Disaster, and Visionary's The Regulators #1. Nine big reviews.
Also, I had arranged for the A.N.A. Comics Spring Anthology, We're Indy! Rise of the INDEPENDENTS to be reviewed as well (seeing as how there's a 10 pager story in there from me and the unbelievably talented Mr. Andy Dawe-Collins).
I can still think of at least five more reviews I've turned in over the past several weeks, and I'm hoping they also see the light of day, most likely in the debut issue of the Zedura print mag (or possibly the Zedura SDCC print special). As I might later repost all of these SP!N articles here anyway (past and present) for archival purposes, I may well do the same with those remaining. All in all though, this is probably the most solid issue of the magazine yet. I know the subjects I hit are all especially fantastic, so check it out already. It's free, by god.
08 June 2010
atomic ouroboros
When we are young we look steadfastly to the future, daydreaming lustfully for the things we do not yet know.
But knowledge is as damning as memory.
01 June 2010
closure does not exist
I started writing a long, long time ago, first dabblings in both journalism and making mini-comix a full dozen years back.
The journalism expanded, eventually spilling over (but by no means exclusively) into comic book journalism. Along with the perma-links on my blog proper, other non-print media websites I have been affiliated with over the years include Key23 (in its very earliest incarnation), BeforeTheFlood (too geopolitical for the FCC, apparently), ComicReviewers.com (then unfortunately a nexus for viruses), VampireNewspaper.com (destroyed by spammers yes, but moreso from complete idiocy and illiteracy on the parts of every single other contributor), CultOfQelqoth.com (abandoned by its founder), PWNgreenland (a more vulgar version of the Onion, albeit short-lived). I have danced in and out of dozens of different forums, keeping an ear to the wall for potential sources- although nowadays I stay clear as a rule of thumb.
When I was a kid I had wanted to be an artist. That later turned to a desire to write comics, and then on to editing. Journalism has always been the real push though, of course. Throughout my time, I have exponentially done a massive amount of consulting, researching, and proofreading for others. I have ghost-scripted some things, and even briefly worked as an inker's assistant. Most of this was in the call to help friends, to work with cool people, to learn from all of them. Professionally, I have never asked for a favor from anyone. But my excessive willingness to help others has increasingly bitten me in the arse, all bloody-like and everything. People get selfish, and territorial. While writing and editing for assorted news sites I have always done what I can to help promote good works, never asking for anything whatsoever in return. And the more I do, the more folks expect from me.
Meanwhile, my writing is going in decidedly different directions. More straight journalism, less fiction in general. And much of it I acknowledge, is not really the sort to share with or pitch to anybody at all. I do it for myself. As much as I've learned (especially in the last 2 or 3 years), this is what it should've always been. At the end of the day, nobody lives for others. To contribute free work to others is one thing- for a time it can be quite a learning experience. But for others to profit from your free work- now that is multiple shades of wrong. And for those persons to scream for more and more, while you get nothing in return? Thanks, but no thanks.
As a lifelong fanboy, I will likely always be a commentator on the medium of funny books. But some people still do not get how serious I am about dropping my reviewer/interviewer status. I am not collaborating on anything with anyone creatively, either- with two exceptions. Neon Eden and Control Syndicate, because the creators of each of those works are very close, very dear friends of mine. Their success means more to me than my own. I have no interest, no resources, no drive, to do anything else, for anybody else. And besides, these two projects are essentially me just playing story editor, organizing the thoughts of others. I can do at least that much in my sleep.
Indeed, I have no fucking interest in making a name for myself. But as such, I also have no interest in making a name for anyone else. So, my sudden departure from comic books really only hurts those unwilling and unable to do their own damn work. Which is not my problem and never was, but for my own ethics I made it so for far longer than I had any right or obligation to. If you cannot make your own dreams happen then you are not trying hard enough and should stop cursing others over your own ineptitude. And those of us wise enough to not bother with dreams? Leave us be, won't you? Personally, I think pushing a career is not at all what life is about, so go on with your silly game and let me do things that matter. Like unabashedly admiring the setting sun every single day.
I've gotten kind responses from certain editors and PR folks over my requests to be removed from all the right media lists. Creators though- the writers and artists who I've defended in the past for no reason other than my own morality- are resorting to coldness and vulgarity. If I wanted to play anyone's reindeer games I would've gladly accepted employ at the big press release sites like cbr or newsarama ages ago. But I really could care less anymore. I may return at some point in the distant future, but only by my own blessed steam. And not without a mother of an extensive holiday beforehand. I just feel burned, tired of my rotten luck at throwing my cards in with folks who cannot match my values or output. I need a break. And I realize in this line of work, any break at all gives folks today and their ever-short attention spans the chance to completely forget what has been accomplished before, so I see no reason to give the notion actual consideration.
I do things my way. At the end of the day that means something to me, regardless of what anyone else thinks or wants to believe. My genuineness seems to disrupt a number of persons though, apparently. Pathetic as children. Your dreams are your dreams alone.
For myself, nothing much maintains my interest, so I will be doing nothing much with the duration of my time.
The journalism expanded, eventually spilling over (but by no means exclusively) into comic book journalism. Along with the perma-links on my blog proper, other non-print media websites I have been affiliated with over the years include Key23 (in its very earliest incarnation), BeforeTheFlood (too geopolitical for the FCC, apparently), ComicReviewers.com (then unfortunately a nexus for viruses), VampireNewspaper.com (destroyed by spammers yes, but moreso from complete idiocy and illiteracy on the parts of every single other contributor), CultOfQelqoth.com (abandoned by its founder), PWNgreenland (a more vulgar version of the Onion, albeit short-lived). I have danced in and out of dozens of different forums, keeping an ear to the wall for potential sources- although nowadays I stay clear as a rule of thumb.
When I was a kid I had wanted to be an artist. That later turned to a desire to write comics, and then on to editing. Journalism has always been the real push though, of course. Throughout my time, I have exponentially done a massive amount of consulting, researching, and proofreading for others. I have ghost-scripted some things, and even briefly worked as an inker's assistant. Most of this was in the call to help friends, to work with cool people, to learn from all of them. Professionally, I have never asked for a favor from anyone. But my excessive willingness to help others has increasingly bitten me in the arse, all bloody-like and everything. People get selfish, and territorial. While writing and editing for assorted news sites I have always done what I can to help promote good works, never asking for anything whatsoever in return. And the more I do, the more folks expect from me.
Meanwhile, my writing is going in decidedly different directions. More straight journalism, less fiction in general. And much of it I acknowledge, is not really the sort to share with or pitch to anybody at all. I do it for myself. As much as I've learned (especially in the last 2 or 3 years), this is what it should've always been. At the end of the day, nobody lives for others. To contribute free work to others is one thing- for a time it can be quite a learning experience. But for others to profit from your free work- now that is multiple shades of wrong. And for those persons to scream for more and more, while you get nothing in return? Thanks, but no thanks.
As a lifelong fanboy, I will likely always be a commentator on the medium of funny books. But some people still do not get how serious I am about dropping my reviewer/interviewer status. I am not collaborating on anything with anyone creatively, either- with two exceptions. Neon Eden and Control Syndicate, because the creators of each of those works are very close, very dear friends of mine. Their success means more to me than my own. I have no interest, no resources, no drive, to do anything else, for anybody else. And besides, these two projects are essentially me just playing story editor, organizing the thoughts of others. I can do at least that much in my sleep.
Indeed, I have no fucking interest in making a name for myself. But as such, I also have no interest in making a name for anyone else. So, my sudden departure from comic books really only hurts those unwilling and unable to do their own damn work. Which is not my problem and never was, but for my own ethics I made it so for far longer than I had any right or obligation to. If you cannot make your own dreams happen then you are not trying hard enough and should stop cursing others over your own ineptitude. And those of us wise enough to not bother with dreams? Leave us be, won't you? Personally, I think pushing a career is not at all what life is about, so go on with your silly game and let me do things that matter. Like unabashedly admiring the setting sun every single day.
I've gotten kind responses from certain editors and PR folks over my requests to be removed from all the right media lists. Creators though- the writers and artists who I've defended in the past for no reason other than my own morality- are resorting to coldness and vulgarity. If I wanted to play anyone's reindeer games I would've gladly accepted employ at the big press release sites like cbr or newsarama ages ago. But I really could care less anymore. I may return at some point in the distant future, but only by my own blessed steam. And not without a mother of an extensive holiday beforehand. I just feel burned, tired of my rotten luck at throwing my cards in with folks who cannot match my values or output. I need a break. And I realize in this line of work, any break at all gives folks today and their ever-short attention spans the chance to completely forget what has been accomplished before, so I see no reason to give the notion actual consideration.
I do things my way. At the end of the day that means something to me, regardless of what anyone else thinks or wants to believe. My genuineness seems to disrupt a number of persons though, apparently. Pathetic as children. Your dreams are your dreams alone.
For myself, nothing much maintains my interest, so I will be doing nothing much with the duration of my time.
shocking true tales of yawn
Wendell Berry is representative of all that I hate about poetry and poets. An overly sentimental and unimaginative fake whose Christianity does nothing to hide the fact that he is neither a modern thinker or an egoless artist. Indeed, his is the type to milk American bible belt roots for all they're worth. Which really ain't much.
I have said before and I will say it again- everybody should write poetry, but nobody should share, not fucking ever.
Why pissed? I was given a collection of some of the guy's rewritten and reedited greatest hits by an old uncle of mine, who really should have known better. I lugged the volume about for some years, never more than thumbing through. Lately however, I have been on a kick of rereading some of the older books in my private library, hoping to find some inspiration in the pages. Like with this Berry book, as my uncle's handwritten message on the flyleaf kindly suggested. But what drivel, what rubbish! I am ripping the book to shreds with the full intent of using each and every damned page as toilet paper. And if my uncle were still alive I would lynch the pigsticker.
People who share their poetry do so, regardless of what they say, because they want you to suggest that they are the most beautifully creative wordsmiths ever. Poetry readings and open mic nights and the like, are all essentially circle jerks. Poets themselves then, are shallow and prideful and vain and edgeless. And generally as dull as paid programming on late night teevee.
And Wendell Berry? I've read used colouring books that contained more intuition, more heart.
(types the POET...)
I have said before and I will say it again- everybody should write poetry, but nobody should share, not fucking ever.
Why pissed? I was given a collection of some of the guy's rewritten and reedited greatest hits by an old uncle of mine, who really should have known better. I lugged the volume about for some years, never more than thumbing through. Lately however, I have been on a kick of rereading some of the older books in my private library, hoping to find some inspiration in the pages. Like with this Berry book, as my uncle's handwritten message on the flyleaf kindly suggested. But what drivel, what rubbish! I am ripping the book to shreds with the full intent of using each and every damned page as toilet paper. And if my uncle were still alive I would lynch the pigsticker.
People who share their poetry do so, regardless of what they say, because they want you to suggest that they are the most beautifully creative wordsmiths ever. Poetry readings and open mic nights and the like, are all essentially circle jerks. Poets themselves then, are shallow and prideful and vain and edgeless. And generally as dull as paid programming on late night teevee.
And Wendell Berry? I've read used colouring books that contained more intuition, more heart.
(types the POET...)
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