Forgetting of Being

Epiphanie Erinye is one sad little goddess. Just because she absorbs all the light around her and all of the self-obscurities and repressed feelings and thoughts and emotions and deeds we would rather not admit to ourselves doesn’t mean that she’s satisfied with being alone, or that she enjoys being ignored, forgotten, and despised.

Lamentations

Most certainly it was a rainy day. But even in the rain it was no easy task. Even with millennia of evolutionary steps towards the surface it was a radical move. Even with the necessity of new food sources due to shifting tides and innumerable environmental factors it was an audacious act. Even at the time I was aware of that... aware of the monumental implications. But ultimately it all comes down to an absurd joke, an impetuous youthful dare, a laugh. And of course I found myself quickly gasping for water. My whole body seized up with fear. My organs in shock. My gills were swelling and inflamed. If not for a rising tide I would surely have died that day. After my recovery my friends were able to laugh it off and forget about it. I even laughed myself, but I could not forget. I had tasted of something radically exotic and a longing had been born inside me. I tried to forget. I could not. I had to try again. The ramifications for my kind were profound and irrevocable. I still don’t know if I made the right decision, or if I ever decided anything in the first place. What I do know is that the laughter of the gods haunts me to this day. And to this day it stirs me simultaneously with divine inspiration and righteous indignation. For I do not know if they laugh in empathetic revelry or contemptuous ridicule.

At it again

Good ol’ Herakles! Get a few drinks in this guy and he is a dangerous fellow. Of course as quick as he is to action, he is just as quick to forgiveness. So if you see him in a neighborhood bar buy him a drink and get him on your team. Once friends with Mr. Higginbottom you are friends for life (though that doesn’t foreclose on the possibility of occasional scar tissue).

Abraham, a respectable guy

Though Abraham died over 40 years ago now, the repercussions of his death are still felt in myriad and subtle ways. It may be (and has been) argued that Thursday City has never recovered. At the very least it has never been the same. But what really is ever the same?

Season’s greetings

It’s almost time. The winter solstice is coming. The death and rebirth of the sun! What a glorious thing, it may be the beginning of winter, but the days only get longer from here.

For us at least, while we celebrate the inevitable coming of spring let us not forget that for those in the southern hemisphere this is actually the summer solstice. They have steadily declining days to look forward to until they come to their winter in July.

Requiem for Peach Muddy

Peach Muddy (b. October 13, 1936-d. December 7, 2007) was one of the most revered actors, not just of his generation but of all time, in Thursday City. His portrayal of Consuelo in Gabriel Contortia-Majorca’s “Tome cada pequeño pedazo de mi corazón” (Take every little piece of my heart) is still so legendary as to evoke hushed silence amongst the literati and the Masses alike. Though his public life and his private philosophies were the source of much controversy in his day, his stage life was never questioned and has ultimately vindicated and redeemed his historical persona. One of Peach’s many famously controversial quotes was “Give me a pound of cocaine, a lighter, a spoon, 3 beefy women, and a 600 pound hog and I will give you the best 3 hours of your life.” There is still argument to this day about whether this was some kind of veiled cultural critique, or a sophisticated allegory, or just an honest comment on his predilections. Regardless of what the final meaning of Peach’s life and philosophies amounts to we will always remember him with love and affection—for on the stage he showed us what we were, what we are, and what we could be in ways that no other could match. We will miss you Peach Muddy.

Inevitability

Latin based language has poetry and romance. Greek has philosophy and epic. What does Germanic have? Guts and gloom. Nothing beats us Germanic based languages for guts and gloom. Viscera is a nice word and all, but does it say insides like guts. Does it? Ennui is a wonderful word that captures an epidemic psychosis perfectly well, but nothing hits the immediacy of the feeling like boredom. Ahh... boredom the land of the bore; what a horribly boring place to be. Zeus sounds really powerful and gloomy, but God, God sounds ALL powerful and gloomy. Lucifer sounds like a smooth and silky villain, but Grendel sounds like he will rip you limb from limb and grind your guts with his grimy grill. And what says doom better than doom? It just sounds so final, so inevitable. Other languages have poetry, and philosophy, and romance, and love, but by my hands you shall meet your doom!

Whisper its true name: the Documentary

As you may, or may not, remember I had a show at the Anton Art Center (Michigan) in October. Alison, at the center, put enormous amounts of energy into making it a great show and if you weren’t there (as I wasn’t) you really missed something special, don’t you know. But for all of you losers that missed out there is this new-fangled modern invention called photographic reproduction. I won’t go into the details, but it involves exposing a light sensitive material to prescribed amounts of light for prescribed amounts of time. It’s pretty amazing. If you have never heard of it you should look into it. Anyway, through this modern invention we have managed to capture moments in time for posterity. How does this relate to you? Why, it allows you (and me) to see the way the show looked without actually having to have been there! Truly amazing.

Old News II

Another bit of old news that many of you may not know about. Last year I had some work in an Austrian magazine named Rosebud. The theme of the issue was “ideals.” I created an 8 page series of Loguments (monuments made of logos—I have that word copyrighted). The Loguments read “An ideal must comprehend its opposite or collapse.”

You can order the book here: www.rosebudmagazine.com

And here are some images:

Giving thanks

The last two weeks have been psychologically and technologically disturbing here in Thursday City. A city wide computer problem caused a series of collapses, which destroyed many vaulted files. This series of computer problems triggered a series of psychological disturbances which shook Thursday City to the core. But I am back in the saddle (as it were) and excited about the future again. Yes, the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. To catch you up on news: “the Moth or the Flame” is nearly ready to be sent to the printers. It will hopefully be available in mid-winter. “Severed Limbs” is coming along swimmingly. I should have images soon of the show in Michigan, from October. They will be posted as soon as I have received them. Le Gooch still has extra toes and is yet to show any hint of embarrassment about this fact. I have advanced another year in living chronology. Mayor Trumbull is still in his grave, and the interim Mayor Wilson should be replaced after the upcoming elections. The legal struggles involving the city of Thursday City and Kreme King’s illegal dumping of mass amounts of petro-chemical waste into Thursday River are still mired in seemingly interminable legal gridlock. The sun came up and went down again today. And all seems to be otherwise enduring in the world. Thanks for that.

Willy B weighs in on the notion of Fate

I have been frustrated with technological problems of late, but in these troubled times I often turn to Willy B for heartening wisdom.

Ries, Mr. Okkelnootje, and the Holy Scarab

A year or two ago I was commissioned to draw a story for an Italian motorcycle company named Aprilia. They were releasing a new scooter called the Scarabeo. Well, I basically just used it as an opportunity to tell a Ries and Mr. Okkelnootje story. Ries lives in Old Town in Thursday City and Mr. Okkelnootje may or may not be imaginary. I drew the story and they took it with no edits! Ha! I got ‘em.

I am going to post the story in its entirety, because, though they paid me, I never saw the book (those bastards), and this story may never see print in America.

BIG NEWS!: Re-membered

After I posted the news about not winning the Xeric grant the positive response was overwhelming (if a few people saying “too bad” can be considered overwhelming). Well one of the respondees offered to help fund the printing of the book. She is the president of Southern Belle Communications, Angela Finney. As you all know the Finney’s are a long established and well respected family here in Thursday City. Angela’s support could not be more appreciated. So it looks like Southern Belle Communications will be the co-publisher of “the Moth or the Flame.” It should be available in the Winter of 2008. Hurray!

I am now working on another long(ish) comic book titled “Severed Limbs.” (For those of you that love self-referentiality you will see it mentioned in “the Moth or the Flame,” once that is printed and available.) It follows a day in the rough and tumble life of Friedrich Blitzkrieg (if you will recall he was introduced to the blog a while back), you can call him Fred. This is the opening page of the upcoming book (look for it around 2009ish). (Apparently this post could have been sub-titled “parentheticals abound.”)