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Denvertigo
RIP to Bob (Gilligan, Maynard G. Krebs) Denver, who seemed like a pretty sweet guy who played his character well.
Really tiring, mostly good weekend. Lots of good time with the kids, a good deal of beer, a BBQ and the SDSU/UCLA game, which was a foregone conclusion but still fun. I buddied up to a black guy standing up in front of me, blocking everyone's view and advising anyone who wanted to complain that he could "make bail", by complimenting his watch and telling him he could get the scratches off the face with toothpaste. Had a good time with him and his friends, as well as the friends I came with.
Some health concerns for someone very close to me. Couple of crying jags over it, maybe somewhat fatigue-induced. A planned fix-up that didn't turn into anything but didn't bother me that it didn't, and an unexpected chemistry with a friend's friend's girlfriend, which I didn't pursue but it was nice to feel it, and know that if you don't feel something similar, there really is no point in trying to force it.
Finally started essay for nonfiction book I was asked to contribute to. More on that if they accept it. It's due 9/15 and I'm 1,000 words in of 3,000-4,000, though I wrote some unfinished chunks and just skipped around. I think I'll be all right. No time for comics writing until this is done. About half done with the next Breakdowns as well, which will be lighter on reviews but features more of that incendiary commentary the kids dig. Excellent discussions lately with the CBG gang. Great lunch with my friend Lisa today, always one of my favorite people to talk to.
Read some stuff on Japan/David Sylvian and Talk Talk's Mark Hollis and really want to get their music now, though right now I'm listening to Isaac Hayes' Hot Buttered Soul, which is really fucking groovy. Also listened to a bit of Thelonius Monk, too, but want to play that again as I go to bed.
Grew a beard in August. Now it's gone, but three days of Van Dyke have begun again.
Look in (Uncanny) X-Men #9 and you'll see that Scott Summers looks like Hunter S. Thompson, or at the least, a 40ish, balding man. Don't know what that's about.
Really tiring, mostly good weekend. Lots of good time with the kids, a good deal of beer, a BBQ and the SDSU/UCLA game, which was a foregone conclusion but still fun. I buddied up to a black guy standing up in front of me, blocking everyone's view and advising anyone who wanted to complain that he could "make bail", by complimenting his watch and telling him he could get the scratches off the face with toothpaste. Had a good time with him and his friends, as well as the friends I came with.
Some health concerns for someone very close to me. Couple of crying jags over it, maybe somewhat fatigue-induced. A planned fix-up that didn't turn into anything but didn't bother me that it didn't, and an unexpected chemistry with a friend's friend's girlfriend, which I didn't pursue but it was nice to feel it, and know that if you don't feel something similar, there really is no point in trying to force it.
Finally started essay for nonfiction book I was asked to contribute to. More on that if they accept it. It's due 9/15 and I'm 1,000 words in of 3,000-4,000, though I wrote some unfinished chunks and just skipped around. I think I'll be all right. No time for comics writing until this is done. About half done with the next Breakdowns as well, which will be lighter on reviews but features more of that incendiary commentary the kids dig. Excellent discussions lately with the CBG gang. Great lunch with my friend Lisa today, always one of my favorite people to talk to.
Read some stuff on Japan/David Sylvian and Talk Talk's Mark Hollis and really want to get their music now, though right now I'm listening to Isaac Hayes' Hot Buttered Soul, which is really fucking groovy. Also listened to a bit of Thelonius Monk, too, but want to play that again as I go to bed.
Grew a beard in August. Now it's gone, but three days of Van Dyke have begun again.
Look in (Uncanny) X-Men #9 and you'll see that Scott Summers looks like Hunter S. Thompson, or at the least, a 40ish, balding man. Don't know what that's about.
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