Part of my haul, mostly from Half Price Books.

Besides being Christmas Eve, today was the day I didn't make it to Copacetic Comics. Feel free to regal me with tales of your Pittsburgh comic shop visits. Let me know what I was missing!

Edited to add: I am posting from a stale-smelling hotel room in a town outside Pittsburgh. I will be forced to go out into the air soon. Until then, how about we revel in this great essay from Amanda about hotel rituals.

Checking in from Western Pennsylvania.

Windy and snowing, the cold, ugly air has not stopped me from purchasing a number of books, one from a bookstore that I haven't stepped into since I visited my brother during his first (and last) year in college. At least, that's how I remember it. I'm talking about eljay's books in South Side in Pittsburgh. There is nothing like returning to a memory and finding the meat of it unchanged.

Right now I am watching Holiday Affair with sexy, old Robert Mitchum and thinking of you.

Send me comments for sanity.

Mind Riot edited by Karen Hirsch

Oh, coming of age. How annoying you are!

Editor Karen D. Hirsch says in her introduction to Mind Riot: “Since the beginning of the comix movement in the 1960s, many artists have taken coming-of-age as their subject. Those were the comix I loved best, with their gritty, honest and often hilarious portraits of a time of life too often put in a soft-focus haze by the mainstream media.”

I am not sure if this has been a change in the past ten years or so, what with the internets and the instant co-opting of anything underground, fresh and marketable, but I think that the teenage years have been used and abused by the media in a way that has just become very boring to me. I am not longer a teenager and for that I am very, very glad. I think, if anything, there has been a 180 in regards to the “soft-focus haze” that Hirsch complains of. Now TV teens get raped, have bad relationships, do drugs and get lost all in the name of audience titillation. These are no longer secrets, they are fodder. I am not endorsing that pain or ugliness be kept secret, but I think today’s teens are faced with something even worse, a predatory curiosity from the world that doesn’t care about them, and will do nothing to help them heal or prevent the same from happening again. And on the other had, the excitement and fear that is present during adolescence is universal, a fact of American life and, “gritty” or not when portrayed in art, bores me to tears.

Ok, ok, so why did I buy this work? Because it is packed comics by the ladies and men of the 90s that I hadn’t seen before. The three that I loved the best were by “Painted Friends” by Carl Swain, “The Girl From Another World” by Phoebe Glockner and “A Tale of Three Sisters” by Ann Decker. Again, these artists show up in Twisted Sister II and because this book is geared towards teenagers, we get a softer, but not stupider, version of their work. For this book, they do the hard work of making stories that are compelling as art without being exploitative or insulting. They also show, mainly through the introduction each artist gives before his or her piece, that being an adult can be fun: art and emotion doesn’t stop at 25. And it shouldn’t!

So what are you making right now?

Winners of the short contest are:
Joel
Amanda
brokenengine
for avoiding the poop trap and making me laugh a bit on a rough day. If I don't have your address, send it to me and you will recieve a small box of items handpicked from all the tiny wonders in my apartment.

The right response to the question was of course:
"What brown stuff?"

Recipe for Disaster and Other Stories by Penny Van Horn

I grabbed this nice Fantagraphics paperback at Powell’s books on my short short trip to Portland in the summer. Between all the pretty hardcovers of the mid-2000s, there were four or so copies of this book shoved in the comics shelves. The author’s name sounded familiar and after a cursory flip-through I put it in my very small “to buy” pile.

The title story details Van Horne’s post-college descent into mental illness. She puts it this way: “… With the help of a few books and records, a typewriter, and some marijuana, I managed to go totally insane.” For Van Horne too much time on her hands, a few books on psychology and a little faulty wiring conspired to land her in a hospital with a busted face and a broken mind. In the epilogue she says, “At any rate, despite the fact it can be colored by sickness, I believe in the reality of inspiration.”

Later in the book comes “The Psycho Drifter,” my first exposure to Van Horne. I originally read it in Twisted Sisters II, an excellent anthology edited by Diane Noomin. I know I reread that collection recently, but I am not sure why it didn’t turn up on the sidebar. Digressions aside, “Psycho Drifter” is one of those stories one ends up telling at the spent end of a long, possibly drunken, night, the kind of story that’s only good because the teller survived it to marvel at their own stupidity. Most every fun person has one of these stories, and from the comics in this collection, it seems like Van Horne has more than most people.

The subject matter of “Binge & Purge: a thrift store odyssey” is close to my heart, what with the great depictions of the hazards of thrifting under stress, and has a Carol Tyler vibe. In it, Van Horne’s children are animalistic tornadoes, she is a droopy head case, retail clerks are gnashing, moronic, monsters and her husband is kinda useless. Instead of careening into a boring self-pity party, she manages to capture the excitement of thrifting and friends along with the crappiness of being poor.

All of the stories are either autobio or “a true story,” a subtitle I imagine covers stories told to the author. Black and white, scratchy and woodcut-looking, the art veers between cartoony (like in the workplace drama “Texas Characters”) and moody realism (like in the childhood story “Molested”).

Recipe for Disaster and Other Stories has stood up to a few reads and gives up new secrets each time. Fans of autobio, the ladies of the nineties and poor people comics need to pick this up!

Contest!

Scene:
You and your lover and relaxing in the semi-nude. S/he is running his/her hands through your hair and you decide to remove your pants. Because you are sexy folk the lights are on. After being deliciously dazed by your silkily-haired legs, his/her eyes drop to your upper thighs and through damp, plump lips he/she breathes, "What's that brown stuff?"

Your answer is?

The best reply in the comments will win a box of crap!

Deadline next week.

Today I woke up with the feeling that, by the end of the day, I would be wishing for a permanent vacation. Before I woke up I was having many nightmares about many things: my brother, towels, the email group I am a part of, Vietnamese food in Roxborough an dmany murkier, darker things I thankfully can't remember. I was also apparently farting the smell of hotdogs all morning.

Now it is midday and I wish I was reading Give Our Regards to the Atomsmashers. Last night I began rereading it. I like its dimensions. I like its heft. It is one of the few books I have ever paid full price for. I bought it from City Lights during a grey trip to San Francisco and read it on the plane ride back.

I remember it being uneven, but I enjoyed the two essays I read last night. More later.

Exciting!

Freebird bookstore went and reopened right under my nose!

Time for a trip.

And, yes, they still carry Moxie soda.

Linky Love

My new fave comics are by Kate Beaton.
My new fave writing about writing is by Tod Goldberg.
My new fave Italian restaurant is Il Melograno. Considering the number of well-dressed folks smoking outside and talking inside, actual Italians like it too. (Thanks nycnosh.)
My new fave blog about crazy animals is Zooillogix.

What are your new favorites?

Guess what?

The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, MA is having an exhibition on graphic novels until May 2008. Who's up for a roadtrip? Not that I can drive, but I can be quite amusing on the road.

A little trip might be just the thing for curing the winter time blahs.

From the museum's site:
"This comprehensive exhibition explores the history and diverse artistry of the graphic novel, featuring personal commentary and artworks by celebrated historic and contemporary practitioners. Original book pages and studies, sketchbooks, and video interviews provide insights into an evolving and exciting art form. Artworks by Jessica Abel, Sue Coe, R. Crumb, Howard Cruse, Steve Ditko, Will Eisner, Brian Fies, Gerhard, Milt Gross, Marc Hempel, Niko Henrichon, Mark Kalesniko, Peter Kuper, Harvey Kurtzman, Matt Madden, Frans Masereel, Frank Miller, Terry Moore, Dave Sim, Art Spiegelman, Lynd Ward, Lauren Weinstein, Mark Wheatley, Barron Storey and others will be on view."

Heredity by Jenny Davidson

Yeah, well, it turns out that I read this at some point in the hazy past. Somewhere in the third chapter (7 pages in) I felt the little tug in my brain that means, “oh crap, I know what is going to happen. How exactly do we get there?”

Anyway, this is the story of Elizabeth Mann, a twenty-something gal with the usual death wish—she treats sex and drinking like an abusive spouse and doesn’t seem to want to change. The first paragraph of the book sets all this up:
“I hang up the phone one afternoon in early June and consider my options. I can kill myself. I can kill my father. Or I can simply disappear and move someplace nobody will even think of looking. If I flee the East Coast, I can by in Austin or Albuquerque in some low-profile line of work (bike messenger, grill cook, egg donor). Eggs could mean big money, but who would want them minus the Ivy League credentials?”

This line also mentions the other theme of the book- fertility. Elizabeth’s lover is a test-tube baby maker, so is her dad. While doing basic research for a guidebook on the UK (the escape she eventually chooses) she ends up in the Hunterian Museum and sees the skeleton of Jonathan Wild, the famous thief taker and criminal. She becomes enamored with him. This was an idea that I loved. I have had a few historical crushes myself and I think that they can inspire great creativity and new, exciting obsessions. In Heredity, her crush makes Elizabeth feel like making babies.



All in all, a great premise. The execution was marred by the occasionally terrible dialogue, especially when the not-very-likeable Elizabeth fights with her boyfriend and the jarring coincidences that spur the plot along, including an auction where a bawdy manuscript is won that just so happens to tie into the story. The bawdiness was kind of fun if you like your sex scenes 1700s-style.

The final plot twist that fails to be all that surprising and the overall feeling of the book was dashed off, weird since at the same time, a good amount of research obviously went into it.
.

10 things about food poisoning/stomach flu:

1) You will learn new and exciting things about your body’s capacity to store partially digested food.

2) You may see a half-finished New York Times Sunday crossword in the trashcan, that, as you vomit on it, magically yields new answers so much more easily than when you worked on it three weeks ago.

3) Everyone you tell about your predicament will tell you to stay hydrated and you will want to punch them in the face.

4) All the time off of work will be useless, you will barely be able to focus, much less finish that book.

5) You will cry at least once, possibly in the shower, while vomiting.

6) When questioned about your profanities, you may have to tell the person you have sex with, “I didn’t make it.”

7) In between eruptions, you will barely be able to move and your restless sleep will be plagued with nightmares.

8) The second day seems much better, but only until hunger sets in.

9) You will want to die, but, sadly, you won’t.

10) You will never see Thanksgiving leftovers the same way again.

The Driver's Seat by Muriel Spark

This is the last non-comics book I have finished since SPX. Since then I have been swimming in comics, Internet comics, podcasts and internet hoo ha. Friday night of SPX, ensconced in the guest room of Holy Prepuce!, I devoured The Driver’s Seat in about an hour.


I got this tiny New Directions edition of the 1970 novella at the Brooklyn Book Fest. It seemed to be an afterthought on a table of leftovers; no surprise, as I think this is an older printing of the book.

We are introduced to Lise, the main character, with this:
“‘And the material doesn’t stain,’ the salesgirl says.
‘Doesn’t stain?’
‘It’s the new fabric,” the salesgirl says. ‘Specially treated. Won’t mark. If you spill like a bit of ice cream or a drop of coffee, like, down the front of this dress it won’t hold the stain.’
The customer, a young woman, is suddenly tearing at the fastener at the neck, pulling at the zip of the dress. She is saying, ‘ Get this thing off me. Off me at once.’”

The young woman goes on the rest of her peculiar shopping trip, then to work, then on a holiday to Italy, acting very special the whole way. She meets another Brit, an old woman, on her journey and talks of meeting “the one,” a man who will fulfill her fantasies like no one else can. During the hunt, she says things like this:
“‘One should always be kind,’ Lise says, ‘in case it might be the last chance. One might be killed crossing the street, or even on the pavement, any time, you never know. So we should always be kind.’”

So true!

Oh, she’s a special gal. In fact, Lise was my least favorite thing about the story. She seemed floppy and bland, even at her most possessed. She only aroused curiosity with her strange, bitchy behavior and the fact that we know, in a certain way, how her story ends. Perhaps I just reacted poorly to her neuroticism. Even so, it was satisfying to know she gets her man in the end, restraints and all.

Italy stands out as its own character, which I quite enjoyed and the minor characters really delighted, including Lise’s seat partner on the airplane, a macrobiotic wannabe guru who spilled brown rice all over his attempts to get with Lise, which captures the late sixties perfectly. When it comes down to it though, Lise bugged me and it kept me from totally enjoying the book.

Supported and Well-read

A few days ago I decided to bike for the first time in too too long and go on a bra hunt. After a bit of disappointment I found one out of the many choices for smaller boobed gals and dropped a sack of plastic money. Feeling uplifted, I zipped my purchase into my sweatshirt, moved on to a fancy store across the street and then to Forbidden Planet. When I ignored Austin English’s sweet offer of help and picked my books I felt very much at peace. I was about to have nice Korean dinner, a bunch of new stuff to read and the company of my butt buddy. While whipping out my much abused credit card at the counter I realized my bra was gone. GONE! My face fell so far that I think I scared the guy bagging my stuff.

Retracing your steps on the streets of NYUork is a drag any day, but when you are braless and starving it is killer. A series of locked doors and weird looks later, I had retrieved my tissue paper wrapped parcel and settled in to read my comics. Happy endings are real!



Raisin Pie #4 by Rick Algerott and Ariel Bordeaux—Well kids, I already had this. Still, a nice refresher. Who burned down the library? WHO?

Living Statues by Emily Blair—Holy crap! This 2006 Xeric award winner is beautiful. The cover grabbed me. It portrays deep, self-defeating disappointment that solidified into a musty bitterness in the main character John. At the same time it captures the magic of Florence; if you can put aside the touristy bullshit and just enjoy the people and the history there are few places more seductive and John’s foil Mary follows that path. I really enjoyed the stuttering, doomed back-and-forth between John and Alice. Blair really captured the complexity of adults set adrift.

Stupid and Unkind: Complete Version by Robin Enrico— The heavy silkscreened cover is what drew me to this comic. Enrico’s little (but thick) book gives a picture into a world of college that I never experienced—dating, partying and talking obsessions. The dialogue is a little stiff at times, especially when the two leads are ruminating about their love lives but Enrico is at his best when he drops the words and shows the meaning of silences. My favorite panel is when the erstwhile male lead character is cruising for some booty and meets a drunky gal. The two start talking and there is a point where they might go off together to hit it or just pass like horny ships in the night. The pause is the turning point and it feels very real. Enrico is one to watch.

Boobage by Monica Gallagher— I heard about this comic from ISR #96. Gallagher spent some time with the hosts talking comics, boobs and superpowers. Boobage is a pretty little three-color mini that tackles the artist’s feelings about her small breasts. No surprise, her feelings are negative, which to someone with secret big boobs and a hard time finding shirts that look right is a big damn shame, and the stories she tells are not super-surprising (modeling, envy, dumb boyfriends). Even so, it is worth a read for the art.

Middle School by Monica Gallagher—I loved this. Gallagher really captures the giant UGH of middle school here. She manages to portray the way days stretch, relationships pitch and heave and boys seem interesting but somehow really far behind when you are 11 years old. She has a real grasp of the accessories of the day (schrunchies, caboodles, pegged jeans) but she doesn’t rely on the whole “remember MC Hammer?!?” thing to make you feel for the characters.

Sorry for the lack of links. Bad blogger! Bad!

This week is Drowsy Driving Prevention Week.

I don't usually go in for Eat a Carrot month or whatever, but now is as good of a time as any to remind everyone that you are not invincible. Don't take it personally, it is just a fact. As awesome as I am, I wasn't able to deflect the pain and change inflicted upon me when my brother died, crushed under the weight of the car at whose wheel he fell asleep. I wasn't able to stop crying when I "needed" to, at work, during times that should have been romantic. Even with my shriveled black heart to protect me, I wasn't able to stop the implosion of my life at the reality of my brother's 19-year-old vulnerablility, his soft flesh and simply human bones. His ability to just vanish from my life.

So here's the deal:
I don't care if your fucking parents will kill you if you get home late, if your wife will be mad you missed the rodeo, if your cousin will smoke all the weed if you don't show up before Dancing with the Stars.

IF YOU ARE SLEEPY WHILE DRIVING, PULL OVER AND TAKE A NAP.

It doesn't get simpler than that.

A simple meme from Doppelganger:
Total number of books I own
Wow. I juast tried to think about his and my brain stopped. I'd say two hundred or so if you count the books I have stashed in my friend's attic (hi N!) and my parents' house. There will always be books to buy and books to get rid of. In fact I feel the need to do a purge soon.

Last book I read
Um, The Driver's Seat? That's what the sidebar says anyway. I have a draft of a review for that tasty novella bubbling on my desktop and I expect to have it for you in a few days.

Last book I bought
Do comics count? If so then it is a tie between The Fart Party anthology by Julia Wertz and French Milk by Lucy Knisley. I haven't been buying books recently because of the many unread ones I have and the all-of-a-sudden crushing amount of work-type reading I have had to do.

Five meaningful books
Meaningful in what way? geez, I am stumped. I guess I am going to go the way not blogged by The Big D in her list and do a list of books meaningful to me. So there, all you jaded something somethings!
1) Well, you know what this one is going to be. Come on, try a little harder... Alright, Neuromancer by William Gibson. It made me feel crazy, in a good way and kind of blew my thirteen year-old mind. The fashion, the cities, the decay, all of this has informed my taste in books, movies, clothes-- whatever. It also turned me onto SF, which before I read Neuromancer, I thought was for old fogies and creeps, which is not entirely untrue of course. SF is for everyone!
2) 100 Demons by Lynda Barry saved my life with humor, color and an example of why surviving can be worth it.
3)Scoop by Evelyn Waugh because it was sharp, British and eerily correct about the writing life. Also it reminds me of being 17 and going steady with my reading time. In fact, the guy I was going steady with was a big, big reader and turned me on to lots of books which was one of the few things to recommend him.
4) Who knew I loved the giant, sprawling novel of mult-generations? Without Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie I wouldn't have.
5)Stiff by Mary Roach. Guess what? I love science!

Of course there are many more meaningful books that I wasn't able to mention for fear of actually writing an interesting post.

Yes, I am down about my blog and my writing in general. Perhaps the winter, with its countless hours of stuffy indoor time will inspire me. It doesn't sound very likely does it?

News

Big D is really big now, because she is pregnant!

Pinky hates when the man messes with her future!

Bug girl explains the lazy flies of today!

Moonlight Ambulette has cured her reading woes!

And I still have no updates for you! But I did go through a pile of comics last night while huddled under a blanket, avoiding the DRAFT! in our apartment. Hide as stealthily as I might, the DRAFT! still finds me. I can't stop listening to Indie Spinner Rack either. So, basically, I am turning into a comics nerd of the burrowing variety.

So, because of the World Series I brought both issues of Carl's Large Story to dinner a few nights ago. B faced the TV, I faced the kitchen and the waiter was suspicious.

"Once upon a time, in a castle in Atlantic City, a child was born."

A rockin dinosaur, some musics, some conspiracy and politics. I read both issues. Awesome, or should I say, the awesome.

SPX 2007

[Edited to add: if we met at SPX, drop a comment!]

Despite my inability to catch the first day in beautiful Bethesda, MD and my creeping illness on Sunday, SPX was a blast. I also forgot to bring a camera but luckily my host mr. hp! lent me a little digital wonder which I proceeded to underuse for all of Saturday.

With our SPX buddy. She was certainly a hit with the better boys of indie comics.

The comics-selling floor of SPX. The hotel also provided a few rooms for the panels. I did not go to any panels because I am a jerk.

The first step was to find the PARTYKA folks so I could show off my fake offspring:
They are very smiley.

Also, their merch kicks ass. Even though they didn't win any Ignatz awards for their nominated comics, you can see why you need to buy everything they make:



Some other folks that watched me dorkily fumble with my camera and try not to seem like a goober:
Leslie Anne Mackenzie Stein who makes great comics (like Yeah, It Is) and needs a publisher for her new one. She does not seem to have a website though...

Marcos Perez has a nice smile and is hard at work on Tear-Stained Makeup #7, though he may have just told me that to make me go away...

Drew Weing. Nice guy and great cartoonist. Also looked only slightly startled when I asked to take his picture and then, a little too pantingly, when Eleanor was coming back.

Eleanor Davis and Drew Weing.

Eleanor Davis and Sara Edward-Corbett. My buddy Sara is the greatest. Please peer pressure her to do a comic with me.

Chuck Forsman & Alex Kim & shy anon. I met Chuck on the giant patio and he brought me back to see his comics and very generously gave me a few. Drunks Sea Colony is beautiful. Find it.

John Hankiewicz and buddy. We bought two prints from John for our house. I also got his comic bald knob which looks like it might break my heart.

Clihodhna of the beautiful accent and amazing prints.

In the middle of it all B and I decided to take a tea break on the marriot's patio:

I steadfastly clung to consciousness while B was not as successful:


The The Ignatz awards were also announced on Saturday but I was too tired to stay and dinner was trying to leave me by any means necessary. Now that I have seen the results I am kind of glad I didn't stay, many of the choices were uninspired.

Finally, most of my haul:

Amy Ambulette has now gone Wong-crazy over at her blog. She seems to have gotten a great crop of stories from her contest and it would behoove you to go check them out.