Fuck. Too god damn hot in the store, and though there was only four people in here 15 minutes ago, now there's 15 people in here one minute later. I hate this. I hate not actually looking through the book I'm flipping through, but instead I'm thinking about what I look like flipping through a book, sweating my balls off in double jackets, a sweater, t-shirt and fuck.
I'm at Desert Island in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. It's one of the coolest and eclectic comic shoppes that could ever exist. The kind of store that I would make a pilgrimage to in my teenage years. Every inch of the store is covered with the wildest, most absurd, challenging, expressive works of sequential art and illustration that's legally allowed to still call itself a comic book.
There may be a handful of pop culture collections sitting about, but it's only things that are quality. Walking Dead. Scott Pilgrim. Alan Moore's work. But other than that the most recognizable book in the store will prob be the vintage comic strip paperback books ala Mad Magazine or the Heavy Metal issues from the 70's. It's the most capital A art that comix can be presented to anyone casually seeking the validity of the medium itself.
And I'm freaking the fuck out. I came by to check out the Lisa Hanawalt signing and release of her second issue of 'I Want You'. Check out her work. She's very sweet and talented, and her work will definitely make you laugh. I wish I could spare the money to buy a copy, but I need to sell so many of the comics I've collected over the years. I just can't justify buying something new right now.
I'm very nearly broke and betting on selling the first five issue of the Walking Dead comic in order to afford any Christmas presents for anyone. And I think I have an idea what to do this year. It'll be something personal, which is what I've wanted to give every year, tired of buying loved ones trinkets and gadgets. It was going to be a surprise, but I'm betting no one I'd be getting something would be reading this...
So, I want to finish and print up copies of my novel and give them out. It's really all I have to share right now. Financially I'm just at the bottom without being destitute. I have a steady job at the Daily News that I'm hoping to turn into a career. Expand into writing steady for the website, freelance write on the side. Start finishing some of these epic comic projects and make a name for myself.
I just need people to read it. So why not fuel my career by printing up POD copies of my book and at the same time share the last seven years of my life. This is the secret world I've been living in while most of the people who read it will have known me. That's when I first started my life over. About 2003. Somehow I got here. And somehow I got to this point in a madcap ramble.
So I'm in the indie comic store, smack dab in the middle of Hipster Haven, at the last store that still really feels like its got that rock'n'roll elitism that a good cult shop's gotta have. And yes, I'm freaking out. I can't seem to talk after I introduce myself to Lisa, discussing how she recognized my girlfriend Laura Lee from their work as extras at the Brooklyn Lyceum for Bored to Death. She tells me that she's part of an all girl's studio in Greenpoint with Kate Beaton & Julia Wertz. (I love Julia's work btw, more on Fart Party in the future).
I should've talked to Gabe, the owner, as he's a really cool guy who's got this bad ass store for going on two years now. Maybe more. And on the subway ride home I read the free comic paper that he publishes, Smoke Signal, which is fantastically bizarre, funny, and disturbing. That's pretty god damn legit. And we'd talked before as he had seen Lauren Barnett's write-up about the Brooklyn Comics and Graphics Festival from last year when I posted it up on Write Club.
But that was a long time ago, and do I say Kurt from Write Club? I mean, it seems like some people know of the comic podcast site I do, but I really need to get it out there. Shit. I need to make it punk rock, don't I? I've kept wanting to put out a zine but getting material together has always been my downfall. With a blog though, I can just keep throwing stuff up and see what sticks. I have about four blogs going though, so I really should consolidate and make my writing self presentable.
Okay, so I'll try and put out a proper 'THIS IS WHO I AM' and perhaps a 'THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD GET TO KNOW ME'. Then you can read it and see. Maybe you'll like it and stick around. If you want to say hi, please always feel free.
Twitter - AgentFenris
But I jumped topic again. I had a panic attack. Social anxiety sucks, but living in New York City is like being a Crippled Master or the One-Armed Boxer. You're a badass in kung fu, but guess what, you got your arm hacked off, so now, not so much. But you learn, slowly but surely, to compensate for the amputation of your socializing skills, and usually that requires becoming a Drunken Master.
And I was just too chicken to ask for a free beer at the party.
K
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