A spy in the house of alcoholism

So much on my mind,  drawing,  starting my own business,  cats,  my brother wanting a place en mi casa, and now I am walking around with four hundred dollars of Meiji's booze.  Damn.  I was given a box at the liquor store and when I pulled out my bag I realized that it was not big enough,  so I went out and switched the booze into my bag, where was I,  the downtown library which is right next to the liquor store!  Yeah,  I had to scaddle as fast as possible.  One guy came over to arrange something in his bag,  I could smell the liquor on his breath,  and I knew I was being scooped out.  I had to move.  The bums are out there,  they know the package I am carrying,  I will have to continue to evade them.
    In other news the comic is coming along,  not as fast as I would like,  but it's moving.  God I need to get this done.  Finishing comics reminds me of the huge community meetings I was going to in the east village around when the twin towers dropped,   nothing really gets done until everyone is overwhelmed,  frustrated,  And exasperated,  definitely exasperated.  I guess it is different.  I guess a better description is the work is actually getting done once you are exhausted.
   Now on the local side.  You never know just how many hipsters are around you 'till the weather gets nice.  The other day I went to a coffee shop and this dude,  kid, ( I don't even know what to call him. ) He asked to sit at my table,  which was really just a formality 'cause it was a big table.  The first thing I noticed was his greased pointy little moustache.  Next he pulls out a computer,  a x-men comic and a bible study book.  Fuck FUCK Fuck.  comics,  pointy moustache,  and bible study.  my brain hates him and the universe,  unfortunately ours and not some meta realm,  that he inhabits,  unless....  no there is only one reality...   So does this jerk have a mother,  does she love his candy ass,  is she happy that she bore this pathetic little beast.  Now get what this little pustule does next.  He fucking calls his mom and makes plans with her,  then he calls his girl friend discusses his plans with her,  then back to mom!?!  And I have to listen to this.  I remember sitting in the basement of the montage at four in the mourning and talking about puck rockers that would get their moms to sew their patches on to their clothes,  my mommy made me look punk so I could fit in.  Who knows maybe they actually believed and they were just lazy.  Why work when you don't have to,  that's a drunk punk notion right.?  So I am in a city with comic reading, moustache twisting,  bible thumping,  bosom nuzzling,  hipsters.  I should either stick with fire fighting and retreat to the woods for the summer,  or...   What's my other options,  I need some sort of hipster taser.  I could challenge fools to duels in the street.  Yeah,  that wouldn't get me arrested.  It was a consensual duel.  Damn,  now I want the apocalypse of twenty twelve,  just to see those suckers freak.  It would be like the time I was flying in that eight seater with my family when they all thought we were going to crash.  I don't remember being afraid,  it was just to awesome to watch them,  tremble in terror,  maybe I am a closet sadist.  Well when these cudgelled hipsters come screaming in the streets I won't be in any closet.
   Must move,   booze hounds are circling..

Overcast

So I am going to shift from my magazine sized high end garage comics into straight up DIY zine style.  Why?  dough baby dough.  I need to keep producing on a dead line,  and that means completing a product,  but I can't spend the money to hand it off to a printer.  Maybe once I get my tax returns back,  maybe,  but I would sorta rather just hold off 'till I get a full graphic novel done.  And the time is ticking.  Nuclear fallout could be raining down as I type this,  and our modern civilization may crumble from the immanent volcanic eruptions,  and earth tremors.  If I don't get at least nine comics completed before Armageddon I will be pissed,  'cause you know with all the trench digging,  booby trap designing,  gardening,  hunting and general slaughtering of blood thirsty hillbillies,  not to mention maitianing a high moral amongst your tribe.  Which leads me to one of the questions that kept me up last night,  what gun to buy.  I know what I want,  lever action Winchester.  but surely that's not the best gun for the Apocalypse.
   A brief note on me ,  my family and guns.  My pops is a pacifist.  Actually he along with half the men in his family are preachers and they everyone are pacifists.  My mothers family has a few more cahones,  not much.  Her mothers Sicilian.  In Sicily everyone is either in the mafia or a peasant.  In America Every one ids either in the mafia or running from the mafia,  my family was running from.  the only actual killer in the family married in.  He decided he want ed a distant relative,  but she had a boyfriend,  who he had to dispose of,  she turned him down and got another boy who soon disappeared,  after that she could find no man.  After about ten years she gave up and married the gangster.  Apparently they were at my parents wedding, acute little old couple.  My mothers father was polish and  Scottish, or Scottish via Poland for a hundred year layover.  But he was no William Wallace,  His tartan is rare,  and the family name known only for a great mathematician.
  So when I purchase said gun,  I will have to keep it a secret from my woosy fam'.  But back to what to get.  See the main issue is ammo,  I don't need some AR-40 to fight off the military.  that's not the way to fight,  if the enemy out matches you, retreat,  go underground.  That's when you set up your traps.    So maybe a Winchester would work.  This computer is too slow and crappy for me to finish this blog.

a blustering day...

I HAVE TO FINISH SAYONARA TODAY.  Good luck son.  I think I can,  I think I can.  God it is a beautiful day.  I caught myself saying, it is what it is, numerous times in the last couple days while trying to finish this comic, fuck.  Like when I was fire fighting a couple of years ago,  my crew boss,  Amananda, (the names have not been changed in order to destroy my friends identities.) would say basically.  The way this works is our crew bosses are the most informed on what our crew is doing each day,  so the give the crew a briefing,  I would count how many times she would say basically.  And then it happened,  I started saying it,  I got it in my head,  and it kept popping out.  Like the situation when you mention some thing or notice something,  and then you start seeing it everywhere,  yeah,  insidious like that.
   I was doing a little math in my head this morning,  if I spend three dollars a day on tea a day after a year I will have spent seven hundred and twenty dollars a year.  god damn,  good thing I only spend between two and two fifty on tea,  and I don't drink any of those fancy coffee drinks.  But if I made seventy two thousand dollars a year I could spend three hundred dollars o tea a day,  that's a whole 'lota tea.  The things you do when you spend too much time in your head.
   So last night I was sitting at this coffee,  no more of a bubble tea Internet cafe near my house,  chatting to this barista while I drew and I mentioned that I had moved here from Eugene,  she was like, (she was definitely a girl who was like) I'm from Eugene.  I asked what schools she went to.  She listed off six,  including a extension school.  I asked her her age.  And all I could think was,  Little Chris and Sara know this girl. I don't know exactly how I felt,  it wasn't it's a small world kinda feeling.  I know that feeling and it is usually a nice feeling.  Like,  wow,  I can pick up and go anywhere and the threads of the world are spinning around me and I am tied to other people in my life,  no,  not like that,  more like I cannot get away, like the strands of my life are wrapping around my ankles.  Maybe I'm going a little far.
   Well I HAVE TO FINISH SAYONARA TODAY,  so bye

So I'm in Portland,  that's not such a bad thing except that today is the first day of the comic convention in Seattle.  Yes,  people all over Seattle are dressed up as their favorite super heroes and driving or awkwardly riding the public transportation to the convention hall downtown.  Converging in a mass nerdom,  ready to stand in long lines,  and eager to spend hundreds of their hard earned dollars,  until they realize their rent check has not been cashed yet,  and they are in grave danger of it bouncing.  Ahh yes the world of cons.  But this is not my year of sales,  it is a year of production,  flying under the radar and producing a body of work.  I am gathering my mana for the next round ( I think that was a proper use of a dorky term).  And on that note Dereck and I made a mock up of the first Breakaway Sagas.  It is only a mock up,  I photocopied the pencils and then inked the photocopies.  But it is good for what it is.  When I was apprenticing under Bossman some guy there said it is what it is was a term from art school.  Two days ago I heard it three times,  and not from art students.  It began to annoy me.  So I am careful not to use it ever again,  what the fuck does that mean anyway.  Every thing is what it is,  unless it's a shape changer,  and those don't exist.  It is just supposed to reflect a resignation to something that is below your expectations,  screw that.  back to the mock up.  I'm happy with it,  but the best news is I don't have to work on it for another week.  Until Dereck gets back to me in New York I can sit back and draw my own comic that has been on the burner for a few.  So my aspiration is to get Sayonara done,  and then he will call me and say yes Breakaway will fund the printing,  Ha.  I have too much on my mind to really think about weather or not we will get funding,  and what that would mean.  I feel like it's a long shot,  but who knows.  If it did happen I think initially the best out come would be Dereck,  he would be ecstatic,  and he could help me unravel this enigma of promotion that I am not tackling successfully at all.  Well I am writing this at the library since my computer died,  screw ASUS.  I'm sort of into the idea of not having a computer,  there are enough places I can use them around,  but it has made typing my blog a little harder,  just when I was finding my groove.  Oh well,  more effort,  more desperation,  more self published adventure.       Good bye for now.