New World: Order (a prelude)

Back at the old dive bar from seven years prior. New phone I'm typing away on but the same old words appear. Maybe they'll make more sense this go round, but I'll be damned if I know what they mean.

I'm still alone, by choice I now know, orchestrated and designed by some mis-alignment of DNA or programming by my upbringing in a broken home. I see it all much more crystal clear, just how murky the depths of my parental interactions were. Or really, all my connections to humanity and every thought I've ever had.

I struggle every day with whether or not I'm damaged goods, whether I'm tainted by evil or just god damn born bad. I feel wrong. I've meet some others with bad wiring or just way off, somehow skewed from the norm perspective by an event too traumatic for interpretation. I look to the times spent in this basement bar, drinking and crying, fighting and lying. What was it all for? What had I learned?

You write a book, you better make sure you do either of two things: please yourself or please others. In my world there is no overlap, or very little anyways. Any collaborative effort that's led to a creative endeavor has gained me some semblance of understanding and acceptance, but my own work, the disembowelment of my singular self, sees nothing from the work put into it.

When I put this word before that word, linking them together in a steady flow, my world makes sense and all is right. I am channeling the divine within and it is beauty incarnate, the absolute truth and unwavering sublime communion with everything. But when you read it, when I read these words to you and they mean nothing, not to say they are nonsense, that much I know, but to say they make no impact on you other than a silent ingestion...

Why am I here? Jazz sits at home waiting for me, though I want to deny her my presence, somehow lingering in the present, wallowing in the past, writing with hope for the future, however, as always, I can do nothing but hate mankind. I catch snippets of conversation that makes me question how these people keep society chugging along, unless it's a beer chaser with a handful of meds.

I'm alone. By accident or design, this is truth. It is the constant. My external circumstances are nearly always in flux, but this distance between me and that girl at the bar nursing her vodka soda and stealing glances in my direction, that is beyond my own comprehension, even here at the tender age of post-Christ Complex thirty-four. Aren't I an adult who should have this worked out by now?

Or is it that I'm a writer, a shaman sitting so comfortably in the skin of everyone that I can not be within myself long enough to assimilate into the crowd, join the party, give up and buy in to consensus reality? Either way I imagine I'm fucked and now drunk and there's nothing I can do about that but buy another beer and dive in further.

Royals (poetry)

As prince prepares
To marry
To make
A princess
Of a girl
I find myself
A world
Away
Staying far from
My kingdom

Celebration should be had
I really really
Should be glad
But this time
Is all
Mis-aligned
And ill timed
Because I don't
Want to be
This guy

Who sits and waits
With baited breath
For an email,
Call or text
From the girl
Who loves him so
But does so easily
What he can
Not do

Live your life
Son
Move and shake
To your own
Equation
Make it happen
And slap your
Inner man
To wake his ass up
And make him
Finally
Once
And for all
Rise up.

Comics in History

Last night I attended a talk at MoCCA with Marek Bennett, a comics historian and cartoonist, who spoke about and showed examples of sequential storytelling in Rome, early Christian and Mayan times, as well as 20th century, specifically World War II.

From marble obelisks to threaded cloth to chiseled stone, all the way up to the dawn of four color printing press comic books as we know them today, the medium has changed, but there remains a common bond: telling stories through the tools and resources available. Whether commissioned by an emperor, a king, or a publishing company, the concept of explaining ideas with pictures has always existed, albeit with different intents.

Propaganda is the first and possibly the last reason, selling an idea to the "ignorant masses" so as to create a fiction around the empire, telling of its enemies crimes and showing how "we" are the benefactors of god(s). An image will always speak in bolder terms, relating to some deep reptilian part of our brains that can't distinguish fiction from reality. On some level we lose ourselves in well designed illustrations, we become the everyman and let slip our individuality.

Education and instruction is another purpose, such as agricultural information vital to surviving the jungles or a calendar to make sense of our time in space, historical recordings with monks detailing out a battle in stained glass or mass produced safety measures on an airplane. We see examples of what we need to know, blank faced figures facing peril we may one day face ourselves.

And lastly, well at least as I see it now, there's entertainment, escapism. This seems to require a level of comfort in a society, where we have leisure time to lose ourselves in another reality. We may still learn something or be presented with ideologies, but we're transported from our current stream of consciousness to one where we sort of melt away, going with the flow of the narrative, a distraction from our everyday lives.

So that seems to be a simplified dissection of visual chronicling through the ages and the uses thereof. Where does that leave us in the here and now? At the true dawn of the digital age people can still grab paper, scribble drawings, add text, bind it, and give it to others to enjoy, whether it's photocopies and staples or scans and PDF files. Our tools are changing and as fast as that's happening, it's still too early to tell where it will take us.

Paper will exist for years to come. As Marek himself even said in reply to my question about digital comics, electricity and bits of information are things we may not be able to count on in the future. After losing a few hard drives myself, I all too well know the transitory nature of digital information. Paper is something we can hold and what's on said paper is (for the most part) permanent. But it's limiting in the scope of physical space that it takes up. Can you imagine having just one book with you for the rest of your life?

And maybe that's part of the problem. In these historical examples presented there's a community aspect to it. They are on display in a main square, a church, a public arena of some manner. No one owns any of it, yet it belongs to all. Nowadays we all want a copy of everything we've ever read, perhaps buying into that capitalistic idea of ever expanding collections of anything and everything. How often do we revisit any given piece we've enjoyed?

I'd say not often. We're too busy looking for new input. Something fresh and new, even if it's a moldy oldie classic, and if anything a devouring of any materials from your current era will, I believe and have experienced myself, an enhanced enjoyment of things from far gone eras. My love of superhero comics and action movies set the stage for me to fully embrace the Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Aeneid, my favorites from literature.

What does this mean going forward? As I prepare my digital comic and a motion comic for the iAge of users to consume, I hope that I make my own mark on the history of visual storytelling, here at the beginning of an evolutionary leap forward in medium, if not content and experience.

MoCCA Festival Rundown - The Best of the Rest

Now here's some of the highlights from the rest of my experience at the MoCCA Festival 2011.

The best free swag:
BAD JU JU by MC Blackwolf

I saw this dude sporting the coolest Flash hoodie, so I just had to stop him and compliment him on it, as well as find out where I can get one for myself. Turns out he was a nerdcore rapper, a field I've been entertaining exploring recently, as I've always wanted to split lyrics. This really well-designed 8 track album was thrown into my CD player with low expectations, but damn, this kid is good. The beats are solid, the hooks are catchy, and he's got a lyrical flow that stands strong. There will be a lot more news from this kid as I've now got a new favorite underground rap star.

Check out his show this Sunday in Brooklyn with the SpaceLAB crew.


VISION MACHINE by Greg Pak & R.B. Silva.

I read the free copy of Vision Machine when it first came out online. I was really into the idea of the technology in the story (reality altering goggles) and what it means to be a content creator. This is about as natural an evolution of today's iGeneration that I can imagine. The fact that this comic was put out free under Creative Commons with help from the Ford Foundation, well this is a benchmark comic now isn't it? Add to the fact that it's a solid story with really well-rendered artwork, and you've got the coolest free swag from a mainstream creator available at the indie comic convention. I hope you got a copy, if not swing by Greg Pak's site to download it.


Saleswoman of the Show: Lena H. Chandhok

This lovely young lady with the charming smile brought me over to her table with her hopeful yet bashful glances, and I was glad to sit and look over her books. A theme I noticed this year was making books that didn't look like books or interactive books of a sort. Ms. Chandhok was the queen of this. From a mini that looked like an iPod Nano to an oversized playing card, to a fridge shaped comic that ran one story in the 2/3 of the lower half, with another slimmer one across the top for the freezer, most of her comics didn't look like books, something she said she was intentionally going for. And it worked. Her books looked cute, different, something that stood out and you might want to have laying around to show how you support awesome indie creators. But alas, I had spent a lot of money by this point, so though she went through her selection of comics with me, I left with a 50 cent comic about the abominable snowman, which is short but a nice sampling of her work, and really, you can afford 50 cents now can't you? Now I'll remember her work and keep an eye out for future comics that resemble other things.

Impulse buy that didn't quite work out:
TWISTED JOURNEYS - Kung Fu Masters

Now, I buy anything with kung fu in it, so when I saw that there was a new graphic novel approach to 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books, AND there was a kung fu version, well I was sold. The art is fun, the book is a small and slim manga size, with good production values. The story hasn't dragged me in as much as I hoped. I found it a little annoying that I died a few times right away no matter how I played things out. The story starts off pretty cool, and very true to the old school feel of kung fu adventure, but the coolness of its exterior doesn't quite match up to its interior. I like the concept but the execution seems not as fun as it should be. I imagine this will be something I re-discover later on and enjoy, but for now, I choose another adventure altogether.

Doctor Who - Original Episodes - Review Part 1

Doctor Who Original Episodes - Year Zero:
An Unearthly Child Unaired Pilot
The Cave of Skulls
The Forest of Fear
The Firemaker

I'm a bit behind the times it seems, and I have a lot of Doctor Who to catch up on before I can join the rest of you in the present enjoying Matt Smith as the eleventh incarnation of the Doctor, and his cool Cowboy hat. So to that end I'm not only watching the modern relaunch, which I just watched the transition from Christopher Eccleston to David Tennant, and I can't wait to devour more. David Tennant was my first Doctor (besides watching Tom Baker along with my dad back in the day), so I'm eager to build up to Martha and Donna who I've both seen glimpses of, but it'll be nice to watch it all come together as their relationships develop.

But I'm here to talk about the older series, the original 1963 black and white series, where the doctor was a mad scientist alien, with a time travelling ship that could become whatever would be unsuspecting in various time periods, so as to be beyond notice, above suspicion. He travels with his granddaughter who just wants to be a regular kid from the 49th century and go to school in the swinging sixties. Her history and science teachers think something's up with her and her advanced knowledge but stunted common sense of the era, so they follow her to make sure she's okay, where they stumble upon the Time And Relative Dimension In Space (TARDIS) disguised as a police box. After harassing the grumpy old doctor, they stumble their way inside the ship where a lot of attitude is tossed around.

This leads to the ship accidently taking off and landing them into the year zero, where the perception field's been damaged so the ship still looks like a 60's London Police Call Box as it sits among the wasteland of cro-magnon man. The cavemen all speak English (the TARDIS translates as we see in later episodes, as long as the Doctor is up and about) but the way their dialogue is all written from the perspective of a savage and rudimentary thinking process.

All these cavemen want is to remake fire. Apparently it had been introduced with the previous generation, but now the son of the firemaker is unable to produce what his father did and so the position of leader of the tribe will most likely fall to the man who can hunt and bring meat. Here's the perfect example of chasing something etheric, something creative and will bring new comfort to the people, rather than doing what everyone else has done before, hunting and getting meat, skins, and protecting the tribe.

The Doctor and crew all get caught up in the caveman politics and in the process of producing fire for the tribe they also teach a man and woman caveman about friendship, compassion and care for one another. Basically they give mankind the push towards the human race as we know it today, and they did it by being a good example, by introducing friendship to their emotional lexicon.

The show was originally intended to be an educational family programme, and you can see here how it's dramatic, science fiction, and well put together with a subtle message delivered beneath good writing and solid performances. Plus, maybe it's just me but watching black and white science fiction really tickles my fancy.

Pop Culture: a novel

How do I tell you about you about dancing? It's my thing. I don't dance particularily well but I dance with my entire soul, open to the music, the universe, a communion with something higher, the church of the dance floor. The most current pop songs, the dance remixes that hit, those are the ones you want. Everyone loves this fucking song, and you know you fucking love it too.

And so you flip out like in your in the shower, driver seat dance choreography, the empty street slide and subway bop and lip sync between stations. You want to dance. The fear is so intense, the ability to thrash about like a fool and not give a fuck. You just want to move and this song, with that fucking hook, and that beat that keeps us all in step and then the rap kicks in and it flows and those of us with the lyrical skill bust out beats like beating meat, and then right back to the chorus and we're riding it out, repeated phrase...Just Dance....Just Dance...

Come out with me one night I promise we will dance like you've never danced before. And we'll take it to the streets in a drunken haze, side-stepping down stairs, and slipping into subway cars.

Tonight's the best night of my entire life. I've got a ticket to Rihanna at Madison Square Garden. An early Christmas present from my new bride. Geez, married, that's just too crazy to imagine. Maybe I'll get her moving at this show. I know she likes to watch me do my thing, and well, with that Pop Goddess Rihanna up on stage, I don't know if my body will let me do anything BUT break it down and bust it out.

I know I'm a severe white boy, but I'm more hood than suburb, least when I was a kid. Man, I'm so old, sorta, but I feel younger than ever. I'll dance any of those tweens off the floor. I was owning dancefloors in the LES when you were mad about Britney & Justin. From West Village lesbian bar to Chelsea club, I was there, awkward and weird, hanging with my girl Beth or tagged along with whatever girl I was seeing at the time. I scammed free drinks and tossed my jacket off, showing the squares in suits how it's done.

And at the end of every night, that's all that mattered. The dancing, the release, the freedom of physical expression, it is not to be undervalued. It's magnetic and hypnotic, all at once it makes you truly yourself, but universally bonded to those moving around you. You recognize the others all hunched and arms swinging, occasional eye contact with someone else who's feeling it and you both smile, close your eyes and let the music just seep inside you, cascading down your spine, electrifying your legs.

My book sold, so it's time to celebrate! My first Christmas as a husband, feeling like a success, somehow it's the time in my life that I've always been waiting for. The beautiful woman in the doorway is beckoning me so it must mean the car's downstairs. I just had to get this down before I head out to merge with the divine dancefloor in the heart of this beast of a city.

I have seen the future. It's dancing.

MoCCA Festival Rundown - Favorite Local Indie Cartoonist - Emily Wernet

If you've been following Write Club for awhile, you may've read my review of Emily Wernet's mini-comic MOONLIGHTING from last year's MoCCA festival. I met her just before she launched her series at King Con in '09 and I was impressed with her work right away. There was something about her style that crackled. I could see the evolution of her cartooning skills and know she will make her mark upon the comics world.

This year I picked up issue #2 of MOONLIGHTING which is one of my favorite mini-comics design-wise. The first issue was a stark orange cover with a really fun layout, and mocked up to be an old school comic with top left indicia, and bound with a neatly tied string, which somehow totally sells it for me. Issue 2 goes with a more badass shot of our superheroine, and with the mom in the top left with the curlers and smoking, well it's odd and graphic.

The interiors are even better than issue 1, but without having the style change. There's a more comfortable and casual approach to the storytelling and the details are more rendered while going a bit more crudely cartooned. With the switch-up between the moody blue and blood-orange coloring scheme to differentiate from regular world and sleepwalking superhero world, this is one of the most well-designed mini-comics I've ever seen.

The story is about a girl in high school who turns into a superhero when she sleeps, and then promptly does battle with zoological creatures, while avoiding the creepy mystery man with sharp teeth who follows her around. It's just so much fun and while it invokes a Buffy-esque feeling, it's its own thing and the characters interact more like real teenagers than I've seen depicted in most comics.

I also grabbed a copy of The Ballad of Saint Angus, which is a much more chaotic, full-sized comic drawn in Emily's cartoony anthropomorphic style, an auto-biographical comic about a road trip and a very special Nissan. The lo-fi chaotic artwork is laid out with no empty space left without a small gag or punchline, and shows off a whole bag of visual tricks and jokes.

Emily Wernet is definitely going to be around for a long while, creating memorable comics of significant quality at the dawn of her artistic career, so watch along with me as a cartoonist begins to make her mark on the comics scene.

You can read more of Moonlighting as she posts the pages up on her site and follow her exploits over on Twitter.

MoCCA Festival Rundown - Best in Show - Justin Peterson's VERY NEAR MINT

This was the first year in a long while where crippling social anxiety and feeling insecure as a comics creator didn't ruin a comic book convention for me. In fact, I was reinvigorated, confirming all the work I've been doing on comic writing and networking via social media was leading me here, to the brink of my break into comics.

I made the rounds with my old friend and co-creator of Legend of Liquid Fury, Chris Chua, who was up for the Strange Tales signing, as he was part of volume 1. It was great seeing what all these creators from all over the country were offering up. Here's my top favorite creators from MoCCA Festival 2011.

***

JUSTIN PETERSON - 'Very Near Mint'

Okay this guy is my Best in Show choice. His style is great, reminiscent of Jim Mahfood, Bryan Lee O'Malley, Genndy Tartakovsky, Mike Oeming, Mike Mignola, but it's unique enough that it can stand shoulder to shoulder with any of those artists while doing his own thing.

But what I really admire about Justin Peterson is his ability to clarify the brand he's building. His comic is VERY NEAR MINT, a nod to the comic book collectors and the obsession in grading quality. The layout of the cover is nice and stark, the title really popping and sticking in the mind. His postcards and business card have the same font/design sense, and his websites: JustinPeterson.net and VeryNearMint.com are very similarly laid out. It's inviting, clean design, simple and effective with the asides of humor, striking a balance of straightforward self-promotion and honest creative individual.

I promise to review the book itself, as well as the sketchbook, and mini-preview for the spin-off comic, but if I could just show you just how this guy's got it right. After the promotion of Very Near Mint, we have an ABOUT - BLOG - CONTACT, then Flickr, DeviantArt, Facebook, Twitter, then a smaller row that promotes his other sites (VeryNearMint, sketchbook/blog, and promotion company). That's a clarity in today's social media environment that we all need. There's so much content out there and you need to make yourself as user friendly as possible online. Too much distraction so break it down and lay it out to spread the word as efficiently as you can.

Okay, now on to Very Near Mint. The book grabbed my eye right away. I knew this was the book I couldn't leave the show without. The cover was bold and fun, the art style was right up my alley, and as a comic reader of 20 years, I knew I'd appreciate all the in-jokes and pop-culture references that were bound to come up. And I did, in spades. The storytelling is tight and yet has a looseness in the plot that lets the story unfold very naturally, and really sells you on the universe right away, though there are some nice shifts in tone towards the end of the book that makes it feel like you've been in this world long enough to be invested and also watch it evolve into more.

The story is about two friends/roommates that own a comic book shop together. They've got a unique dynamic that harkens to Dante/Randall (Clerks) but also reminds you of any two guys you've ever known that worked in a comic store. They just are dudes who sit around reading comics and watching sci-fi, who maybe hate on certain other fans, but respect them enough as one of their own.

It's Wednesday, new comic day, but the comics will never come. And so begins the story of Colin & Sam, co-owners of The Splash Page, and their newest employee who must face the hordes of foaming fanboys, the new comic store across the street, and uncover a vast conspiracy that threatens all aspects of their lives. Will the Geek scene in town be the same? Find out in Volume 2!

That's my one complaint about the whole thing really. Volume 1 left us at the end of the Empire Strikes Back, right at the moment of final confrontation, and though it seemed a bit abrupt at first, I imagine the next volume and the direction it'll go, and I really can't wait. This is one of the most fun and entertaining reads I've come across in a long time. If you're not a diehard comic fanboy, there is some aspects of this that you might not be into 100%, but if you liked Clerks and never worked in a convenience store, well, you can imagine the guys that work in a comic book store, now can't you?


There were three options at the show which I thought was great. The $10 manga-sized copy, the sketchbook cover version, and the $20 oversized edition with extra material. This is a book I will buy once again when it's finally collected, as well as any other volumes that come out until that happens. And I really recommend the sketchbook which has some really fun takes on Spider-Man, Back to the Future, monsters, Vikings, Lost, dinosaurs...well, you get the idea.

The comic most wanted in the Very Near Mint universe is SpaceGirl 4199, which is Lee Bretschneider's mini-preview they gave me. It's a quirky indie comix take on space genre, and it made me laugh out loud. It's more great characterization here as it'd be so easy to rely on sterotyped cliches but SpaceGirl really feels like a real chick, more true to the girls I've known anyways.

So seriously, look into these guys. Justin Peterson's badass graphic novel Very Near Mint (the next Scott Pilgrim if I have anything to say about it), and his superfun artwork, as well as AdventuringCompany with Lee Bretschneider.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (21)

NaPoWriMo 4/17/11

Can you write poetry
to death metal?

I find I can when the mood strikes and the guitars wail just right and whatever the fuck this dude's growling about is fucking shit and I fucking hate it too and I hate it all and everything like you, heavy notes hit crunching and bunching up my bones as rage engages my insides and I want to scream til blood tears from seared vocal chorus rock bottom scenarios.

Uh Huh Her
You know how it goes. I never leave home and dance with headphones on, fingers stuck to keys that don't seem to open anything not matter how hard I unlock these aspects of my mind and try to find that part of me that is pure and hardcore, not this meek weakling that tastes bitterness in everything, who beats his girlfriend's boyfriend up in a domestic self-abusive suppression of passive aggressive angry intuition, knowing that to be himself is to be a hell of a man.

Can you make me a man? Can you make me a dad? Can I be a husband that makes the right decisions time and time again? Who stands up for his lady, and kneels down to his child, who befriends enemies and ignores feminine wiles, shakes your hand and knows your name, is proud when his love wins the game, puts her before himself integrating a deeper understanding of women by knowing his wife like the back of his hand.
Can I be that man?

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (20)

NaPoWriMo 4/16/11

You rode off
Far away and fast as can be
Leaving me toiling behind
Cranking the pedals to my
Ever slowing own pace
Until I finally realized
That I lost this race.

Some part of me
Hates you
Truthfully
No matter
How I wish
It to be
Otherwise.

Jinx
With worse luck
Than black cats
and mirrored cracks
well goddamn fuck
this shit and
feeling bad
And all the jazz
Cause you and me
What we got's all
right you see
And I'll be damned
if I find myself
fucking up and
breaking down
this happy
scene.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (19)

NaPoWriMo 4/15/11

When I dance
I dance til the end is done, once and for all, til stars dry in night skies and once more reality looms and lingers, death white pale fingers on the deep rooted triggers it takes in order to get me back into this shithole sense of reality where you all lounge afraid to saunter into wonder with reckless abandon all hope, ye who enter here, because not succumbing to the beat is the same as getting beat, never beating the odds, the drums beat for us and I seem to be the only one willing to answer its call with one great and terrible fall.

After I dance
I forgot why this all mattered, all this matter, splattered on canvas with half-assed efficiency, deficient science denying religious deities, no hope no faith no rock and roll to save our souls, now its ick and commutes to duldrum mediocrity and disjointed union with your fellow man, no longer a god in a all-encompassing sonic universe supplied by some mellow band and whiskey/cheap beer combo shots from the dive bar.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (18)

NaPoWriMo 4/14/11

I try not to destroy
Everything in my wake
It's a battle not to
Rattle these cages
And leave this to take
New places upon the stages
Pretend playmate possibility
All the while, my mind rages
Rough tide on sea of tranquility
I simply can not maintain
No sense of stability
Clear this desk with a swipe
Of my fist and leave work
behind me.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (17)

NaPoWriMo 4/13/11

Hollywood Stardom Daydreams
Strutting red carpet swagger
The crowd hollas and screams
Harry Potter & Mick Jagger
They don't take my picture but I do the interviews and schedules and plan the shoots, writing directing, and whenever I can editing, but this is my baby, endless hours planned out punctuating scene after scene with an inflection of dramatic diction, all so you can shell out bucks for seats to laugh and cry and grip your armrests til the credits roll and you'll be too distracted and applauding if I'm lucky but in reality as my name projects upon the screen it'll mean, this damn thing is over and yeah it was a cool flick but now life regains its steam and you know what I mean, it all begins again, believe you me.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (16)

NaPoWriMo 4/12/11

Elated
when things went right
Flawless
exhaustion each night
Comic cons and pros all flitter
about to and fro glittering
Gal on my arm
Passive aggressive warns
of serious bodily harm.

I rocked it out as I took it in and believe you me that it all is the most minute discussions of fictional interactions between imaginary beings as buisness as usual. Solitudal solutions for creative endeavors bringing everyone that meager living and moment of appreciation before growing up and getting a real job.

MoCCA Festival Review

This weekend was the MoCCA Festival (Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art) held at the Lexington Armory. I haven't really enjoyed a MoCCA since my artist Chris Chua and I had a table in 2004 where we sat next to Sophie Crumb and had Moby give us the nod on our book Liquid Fury. I've been pretty discouraged and distracted (aka drunk and depressed) for the last few years so I was not really open to appreciating any con, let alone the cool "underground" comix-con.

But this year was different. The girl I tried to hit on last year who ran away, well now she was my girlfriend, and not only that, she was signing her brand new graphic novel from Abrams Books, where she sat with legendary creators Michael Uslan and Jerry Robinson. Yes, Ms. Laura Lee Gulledge was the belle of the ball, selling out of her amazingly sweet Young Adult graphic novel "Page by Paige" and chatting with the producer of Batman and creator of the Joker.

Not only that, Chua came up to visit as he was invited to the Strange Tales signing on Saturday night. It was the first time we'd seen each other in years, so it was awesome to slip back into the con circuit with him. For years and years we hit as many conventions as possible, talking to every creator imaginable. We even did our first San Diego comicon sitting at a table with Joe Kelly and ManOfAction, right next to Richard Starkings Active Images table where Tim Sale and Matt Wagner were hanging out.

That was back in '04 though and we'd both been through a lot since then. We needed to feel inspired and feel the comic buzz once again. Remember that sense of fun and adventure that was our first few years in the comic scene. I needed to feel cool for once, instead of the lowly writer who was tagging along the brilliant artist. I needed to get over myself and put out work.

Meeting up and chatting with the mainstream creators at the show made me feel like I had connections, that I was not only networking but making friends in the comic industry. There's some big comic stuff brewing and as that is ready to be shown, I will let you all take a peek at the things I've been working on.

In the end I chatted up some people I knew, and found new favorite creators to enjoy. Over the next few days I'll post up a spotlight and rundown of my favorites from this weekend.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (15)

NaPoWriMo - 4/10/11

High school cool
Prom dance trance
Comic convention
Detention

What the fuck is going down?
I'm back at MoCCA.
Indie comix back in town.

A year before she dissed
Now it's kiss kiss kiss
Before nipping off
To sign her books,
Jaws on floors
Desperate fanboy looks.

Chua madman Asian
Artistic abstraction ace
Scoping the scene
Tearing up the place
His kung fu is strong
Mind sharp 'n keen
It won't be long
Til smithereens
Get blown
On down.

Riles rocks out
And saunters in
We plan a route
Go for the win
End all suckas
That wanna front
Motherfuckas
Slags and...

Count yourself lucky you don't interrupt my flow, Liquid Fury funky smackdown, hittin' clowns with Power Play and daily poems and rhymes, from my life and stylin' madly through aisles of illustrated psychopathic indie action stars of seven hundred delays in delivery, creeps stalk the flawed faces of weirdness bound to be one, become a none of the above mystery prize, a rockstar shines in their collective eyes and all I see...

Is me.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (14)

NaPoWriMo - 4/9/11

FUCK
I'm up!
Awake already
An hour late
So far
Minutes
Ticking

Run to the subway,
Coffee splash across
My flesh
It's here and I dive on.

Shit.
Hung
Over.
Still?
Drunk?
Fuck.

Transfer and
Jog, because running
In this shape
Is not
Happening.

How am I going to survive today?
Fired and retired from drawing
A salary
Tossed out and forced to
Make words make
Me money.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (13)

NaPoWriMo - 4/8/11

Fucking nervous
To go out tonight
Don't think
About it
Fight it
Drink up
And
Join in

John on the Bowery
Cheap beer
In a dive
Narrow and cramped
Get drunk
Stay
Alive

Long enough
To hit up the
Party
Comic book
Awkwardness
Least I know the peeps
Running around mad
Swapping cards
And con tales

I finally feel fucking cool as we retire
To a former watering hole
In the wall
Drunk enough to be bold
Talk shit and wax philosophical
Lowered into the East side
Debris of a scene.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (12)

WRITE CLUB: How To Become A Famous Writer Before You're Dead - Ariel Gore

Write Club is composed of writers. Writers all have that how-to, inspirational, motivational, exercise, writing program-esque book on their bookshelf that they've never read. When I first started Write Club with Tim in March '09, I was unemployed and my field (photo editing) was suddenly flooded with people laid off by Getty. I spent what little money I had left at Barnes & Nobleon "How To Become A Famous Writer Before You're Dead" by Ariel Gore. It appealed to all my sensibilities. Look at that cover.

Anyways, so I was reading it all during those first few podcasts. I was really at the very dawn of my writing career. I had been writing for years at that point, most of my novel done, a graphic novel out there, but it was time to step it up. And this is the book I chose to motivate me beyond that barrier that seems to keep only the amateur fanboy at bay.

I'm going to try and post one of the exercises from this book every few days. It's filled with really great writers dispensing advice and planning exercises for you to cut your teeth on. I hope that everyone out there will feel free to join along, break out that writing book you have, try some of the exercises and post them up. I'll gladly post anyone's work on the Write Club website.

The first exercise in her book is to make a list of everything about yourself that makes you unfit for literary glory. Then write down everything that makes you perfect for literary stardom. Blend it all together to create a keyword bio and spin them into a fairy tale. I made a mental list of the pros and cons and this is what I banged out:

Kurt Christenson is a suburban loser who transformed himself into a comicbook rockstar. From kung fu/sci-fi fantasy comic and a pulp/beat novel, he's the 21st century Jack Kerouac with action movie sensibilities.

It's a little embarrassingly over-the-top and self-indulgently narcissistic, but those traits are in my writing, so it's an accurate representation.

***

I'll end each post by a writer that inspires me, that I admire, that pisses me off, or just says something of note.

"Sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whiskey and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested."
- Hunter S. Thompson

NaPoWriMo - 4/7/11

Teenage mom
Raised with no dad
She's the bomb
And boy am I glad
That I had her
And she had me
Oh how it all could've
Been so differently
Aborted child
An empty womb
Future failure
Born to the tomb
Lacking love
Affection so dear
A kiss, a hug
Now it's all clear
I gave her life
As she did me
My father's wife
A saint to be.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (11)

NaPoWriMo - 4/6/11

We're fucking hard
I'm plunging deep
Exhausted, spent
Ready for sleep
Panting and pausing
Reflections on sweat
Beaded bodies
Together again
Beyond words
Groans and moans
Linger in the air
Settling on our
Entwined limbs
Like secret skin
Between us
Lies

NaPoWriMo - 4/5/11

Fetal on the carpet
Forced wails
Replace
Stifled cries

Dad's insane
Mom's a robot
Sis is suburbs
I'm fucked
To quote my
Father

Friends frozen
Complacent contemporaries
Peers playing me like
Drinking games
In frat boy bars

My girl's a success
Busy with the bliss of
Celebrated artistry
Talent's career
Sunshine rainbow
Soul

Alone
With the best of me
Slapdash messy
Majesty

I, Hipster: Used Car Kung Fu

I rode my BMX over to Moy Yee's kung fu school, tucked right under the BQE, and a block from the Navy yards in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. I locked up my Mongoose Orbit to the bust stop pole and then stood awkwardly outside the door next to a stocky and dark skinned dude with a ponytail. There I was, pleather jacket, black jogging pants, and worn down Converse All-Stars with the tongues hanging loose. What the fuck was I doing?

I looked over the ornate wood carvings that lined the front metal garage gate on the front of the building. It was perfect in that old school kung fu school meets Brooklyn industrial, hidden away in this overlooked neighborhood, still classic houses with ghetto sensibilities. Warehouses and brownstones.

The dude waiting introduces himself and I follow suite, but I don't think I was listening. I couldn't hear anything but my own self-doubt telling, nay berating me, to run away. But the door opened eventually and with some hubbub and to do, we were both made to sit outside sifu's office as the intermediate tai-chi class was in session. I watched the insturctor, a middle aged Jewish man with a gut that moved with grace and purpose. Every movement was perfectly executed but with the fluid movement that any random moment could provide.

The rest of the class were ideally cross-pollinated. The dorky girl with legit geek glasses, the balding tattooed hipster who's in touch with his I-Ching, small Asian woman who may not execute the moves perfectly, but from her body language you know she would take you down. The other dude and I sat and watched the various numbered movement sets as someone who was there before us chatted away with sifu.

Eventually he got called in and I sat out there alone as the class' more advanced movements came closer and closer to my person, with a pivot here and a kick-hand-slap there. A few latecomers dropped in and joined the class, each one adapting to the group and somehow changing the dynamic. They break for a minute and pair off and group up, the shorter haired woman chats up the instructor, the hipsters sync up, and the older cats just mumble and jive one another.

It's a good while before the dude's out and I go in. The sifu is a sweet looking man, all round curves and smile, while resting atop this powerful build. His office is small and covered with certificates and photo-ops. Including one with one of Ip Man's sons. The fourth I think. I tell sifu that I'm interested in martial arts for confidence, and his style Wing Chun because of the grace and power, but really wanted to learn because of kung fu movies.

We talk about the Donnie Yen flick Ip Man, I mention Wing Chun with Michelle Yeoh as a favorite, a early 90's Hong Kong flick, just to let him know that I'm old school. He skips formalities past those first five minutes and then writes down on a strip of paper a quarterly payment plan, which would include a $650 fee upfront. He knows I'm not a impulse buyer, and probably that I'm broke, so he just gives me that car salesman zero effort routine and I thank him for his time and get a business card.

I'm outside unlocking my bike in a fraction of the time that the other two guys were in there talking, and I could only think, "Did he not want me to learn his kung fu style? I will show him and learn Park Slope kung fu!!"

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (10)

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (09)

NaPoWriMo - 4/4/11

It's so hard not to hate and judge one another
Condemning so easy, from my father and my mother
Nothing ever good enough, no, not once not never
Felt smart or cool or even just a tiny bit clever
Hoping to be a whole, complete man, but so far
Shit's gone down contrary to plan, and bizarre
as it seems all this means very little to me
cause everything I am is who I want to be.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (08)

NaPoWriMo - 4/3/11

social lies
and
awkward eyes
why so hard to
realize
that
inside my
heart so
paralyzed
I just can not
stabilize

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (07)

NaPoWriMo - 4/2/11

Foolish heart parked at the bar
Dumbed down obsessive
Compulsive self-defeatist
Now beaten and backed
Into a corner
Hidden

I hold tight onto the semblance
Of normality grasped
Of humanity gripped
Dancing confidently
On spectacle streets
Until I crash into
Myself

Try
So hard
Get
Nowhere
Fast
Words fly

Jump spaces

Into imagined
Tomorrows
When things
Unhinge

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (06)

Shang-Chi: God of Kung Fu [audio-pitch]

Killraven blowing off responsibility. Brooklyn. Fing Fang Foom.
Shang-Chi. Navyyards. Hipster.
Superkungfu. Avengers.

Midnight. Epilogue. Malukarans. Sacrifice of power cosmic.
Killraven. Slacker. Pratt. Artist. Nightmares. Visions of the future.
Shang-Chi. Brooklyn. Teacher mode.
Avengers. New York City. Manhattan.
Midnight. Fight. Information passed via kung fu.
Fin Fang Foom. East River.
Avengers Assemble.
Superkungfu.

Peaceful hands, the final form, created by Shang-Chi, his soul evolved. He hides in Brooklyn, near the Navy Yards, rumored to fend off ancient attacks. He lays low, waiting for the great evil to arise, teaching innocents the ways of tai-chi, making them strong enough to survive what will come.

The Mandarin, rings forged in a single band, great arcane energy spilling forth as Fin Fang Foom rises from the depths. A monster movie from Brooklyn into Manhattan. Kung Fu can only do so much, but can the Intern of Dr. Strange really be the key?

Flowing 70's style, red flowing jacket, wife-beater underneath. Bruce Lee meet Jet Li by way of Chow Yun Fat as a buddhist healer, repenting his violent past and seeing the peace he can spread through the superhuman community. Rechannelling the energy that is manifesting in the bodies of these ordinary humans.

70's flashback. Ghost Rider ala CHIPs/Peter Fonda meets Knight Rider. Luke Cage. Young. Keeping it real. Jive turkey. Iron Fist, sideburns and bellbottoms, hippy disco. Dazzler. Misty Knight.

Present. Cold, damp, wood, training dummy in the dark. Fists turning into palms and smooth gestures, sliding across the wood, serenity flowing into his movements. Then sudden grip, vice-like fingertips, rips it into splinters. His past not that far behind.

Training the future. A half-brother. Guilt over Moving Shadow. Father dead and gone, only in his dead sons body. Younger, faster, undead diabolical madman, clutching at life as he decimates, murdering all who enter his path.

The kid is difficult, promising, gentle, abrasive, and sixty other kinds of human. Aligned with Chinese mythology, divine intervention, chosen tool of destiny. Picked for his utter uniqueness and perfectly simple nature. His sense of the spectacle and its total enjoyment of adventure.

He seemed like he would enjoy it the most.

Redeeming heroes, preaching peace, defusing situations with his mere presence. What new influence, spiritual power beeming from his person, brought upon this transformation? A hidden secret. Sacrifice to set things right. He left another world as it expanded up out of this dimension. A reality where life was Happily Ever After.

Their kids all lived, they live together, happily married and functional. No one died and came back. Life was good, death prevented at all costs, saving babies from burning buildings and superhero ideal.

Dean brings his friend along for a ride out into Clinton Hill. They chat at Square Root Diner, hit up DopeJams, walk by the BQE and arrive at Shang's temple. A surprise visit reveals Manny's destiny.

Expanding storylines. Everywhere Dean "Walks", a new story opens. Unfolding universes. Storybook popup pulp.

Superhuman kung fu.
Repentance.
Controlling emotions.
Fu Manchu was Makluan.
Part Dragon.
The Mandarin, part Makulan.
Five rings vs Five rings
Midnight Sun. Communicates through fighting.
Elemental superfighting.
Mandarin destroys M'Nai.
Throws him to Earth.
Shang-Chi fights him to learn what happened to him.
KillRaven. Disciple. Teaching. Peace.
An Invasion is coming. The Mandarin bringing a planetfull of Makulans. A fleet of giant space dragons.
Shang-Chi prepares himself. Finds the five rings. Iron Man. (Or War Machine, or Stark Tech guard. NinjaBot. StarkFujikawa.)
Power Cosmic.
KillRaven. DragonSlayer.
Black Knight.
KillRaven goes to train with another warrior. Brooklyn, Iron Fist. White Tiger. Daughters of the Dragon. Daredevil. The Hand. Elektra. Urban Ninja.

Wendigo. Sasquatch. Wolverine. Hulk. The woods, the wild. Hitchhiking. X-Mansion. Man-Thing. Monsters. Pegasus. DarkHawk. Nova. Cosmic.

Guardians of the Galaxy. StarFox. Space opera.
Kree. S.W.O.R.D. Captain Marvel.

ARGHbrain: a webcomic about hell on earth (05)

NaPoWriMo - 4/1/11

Decidedly singular
Embraced self
Looking cool
and badass

Something snapped
Into place and now
A grown man
In my stead

A fool's day
The jester's return
Homeward bound
Silly simpleton
Now found.