There are a number of variations on this approximately 10-week program to get a relative newcomer to jogging/running (i.e., me) up to shape by slightly increasing speeds and distances of jogs in intervals with walks over each week of the program. Pretty straightforward. The one I’m using — because the chart breaks down suggestions into easy-to-digest minutes — is this one, but they’re all about the same in that they provide a structured, but customizable, approach to starting on the road to running.

I started on my birthday last week (Aug. 4), and as of this morning, finished the third run of the second week. It’s hard, I’m not going to lie. In the first place, I hadn’t been to the gym in about two months (vacations, work, blah blah blah), though that’s the other thing I started in tandem with this C25K thing — regular gym visits again. But even when I normally did cardio activity at the gym, it would be about 30 minutes on an elliptical or 20 minutes on the treadmill, so 15 to 20 minutes running/walking didn’t sound so much of a challenge. Oh boy, was I wrong. Even though up to this point, the longest jog has been four minutes (this morning, buffered by about five minutes of walking on either side), it’s taken everything I have to keep my chest from exploding. As I write this, half an hour after finishing, I’m still a little wheezy. Dealing with things like wind resistance, hard running surfaces and — if you believe my GPS-based running software — elevation variations of up to 60 feet provide a much harsher experience than gliding along on a stationary elliptical trainer watching episodes of House.

But that’s good. I needed a challenge, a shake-up, a new routine to break the old routine of letting myself go. It’s forcing me to wake up before 6 a.m. every running day, even when I have nowhere else to be that day (much to the shock of my girlfriend, who is used to me sleeping in until about 10 a.m. on Sundays, and now I’m awake for hours before she is). It has me back on pace for the gym, where I can now focus more time on weight training, because I’m doing my cardio-intensive activity in the morning instead of cramming everything into one session. And I feel pretty good so far, no shin splints or knee pain or anything of the sort. My back is sore right now, but I think that’s a combination of the hard breathing and residual soreness from the back and shoulder work I did at the gym two days ago (my lower back is just fine). I’m even considering a half-marathon, something I’ve been talking about for years but never got around to doing.

Of course, this is only week two. When I get to the point where my plan has me trying to do 15 to 20 minutes of straight running, I’ll be easy to find: Just look for the guy lying down on the side of the road, crying.

Morgana Athena (or “MA” as I’ll lazily refer to it eventually) was one of the preeminent Gothic rock bands of the Southwest. Mind you, that’s not saying much as the goth scene wasn’t quite huge in the 1990s or anything, but MA made the rounds for long enough in the early-to-late 1990s that sheer staying power propelled it above the rest of the fly-by-night trench coat musicians.

I was aware of the band through friends and fliers during high school. The band’s bassist, Chris Jensen, worked with me at the Torrey Pines Discount Cinema, and I attended a New Year’s Eve party at singer/guitarist Chris Naser’s house a year or so later. But I’d never seen the band perform, and it had been through multiple line-up changes when I finally encountered the group in full early in 1996. By then, it was just the two aforementioned Chrises, who would perform live augmented by rhythm tracks prerecorded on DATs (digital audio tapes). If you’ll recall, this was the same live set-up my band at the time, Rahne, was using, as well as other Las Vegas Gothic and industrial acts such as Corinthian Flux (then known as Rosemary’s Baby).

After Rahne broke up in April 1997, drummer Brian Pfiefer and guitarist Ryan Couevas joined Morgana, on drums and keyboards, respectively. By this time, Chris Jensen had left, replaced on bass by another friend (and sometimes stand-in Rahne bassist), Dru Broils, so Morgana effectively absorbed Rahne. Meanwhile, I spent about six months huddled in my studio apartment near UNLV, writing and recording all sorts of music, experimenting with different styles such as funk, jazz, dance, soul and noise.  I even brought some of my new jazz-rock songs to jam with a friend’s jazz band, spending some time at their rehearsal space off Tropicana and Valley View (this will be important later), but nothing came out of it.

At some point in the fall of 1997, I found out while hanging with Ryan that Morgana was looking for another guitarist, someone who eventually could take over from Chris Naser so he could focus on singing. For whatever reason, I decided to audition — the first time I had to do so, since all my other musical projects up ’til then had been self-started. I showed up at Chris’ house one chilly night. The only other person auditioning was another pal, Scott Hill. Scott was a good guitarist, likely much better than me technically, but I remember his sound being all wrong for Morgana — too much metal, not enough nuance. Apparently, Chris and company agreed, because they ended up liking what I brought to the band, though I’m sure the fact we had all played together for years already didn’t hurt.

Chris’ playing style was quite different from my own. He seemed to create his own, slightly atonal chords to give Morgana its distinctive, haunting sound. I don’t think he could identify a note or scale if asked, but he’s one of those people who just instinctively knows how to make instruments work together. I modified some of the guitar parts to add more heft or depth. Others, I scaled back. I even brought in a glass slide, something that became a key part of the guitar sound for my favorite MA song, “1942.”

(Play “1942” by Morgana Athena)

Actually, “1942″ was the song that made me want to join MA in the first place. Before auditioning for the band, I saw the beefed-up line-up perform for the first time since the last Rahne/MA show. And when I heard “1942,” I was floored. Unlike MA’s other songs, it wasn’t just synth swells and icy drum beats. It was raw, angry, floor-stomping — and I wanted to play it.

My first live show playing guitar solo (thanks for the reminder, Ryan) with Morgana (my first show with MA was at Enigma Garden Cafe, but Chris still played guitar on that one) was at SanctuaryDementia, a goth/industrial night held weekly in the back room of Angles, a gay club that resided where 8-1/2 Ultra Lounge now stands in the heart of Las Vegas’ “Fruit Loop.” Everyone wore all black, Ryan and Chris wore make-up, but I was still coming out of a rave-ish period, so I wore stovepipe jeans and a racing-striped knit fully representative of the late-1990s. Aside from that (and my semi-hollow-body jazz guitar), things went pretty well, and by the time we had a few shows under our belts, Chris felt comfortable enough with my playing of his songs that he pretty much stopped playing guitar at live shows.

Things were cramped at Chris’ parents house where we rehearsed, and coincidentally, my friend Anthony’s band — with whom I jammed on that jazz stuff earlier that year — wanted a co-renter for their rehearsal space, which was a double-sized room big enough for two bands. So we moved in, and I brought all of my recording equipment, including my Macintosh computer (a Performa 6360, if I recall).

This move was significant for more than the band. The rehearsal space became my office and studio as well. The band only practiced two or three days a week, but I was in there much more, coming in right after my day job slinging copies to work on recordings, design artwork, mess around on the drums (yes, kids, this is how I taught myself to play drums, which I did not do at the time), eat dinner and generally hang out. I even started to record other musicians, one of which was a rapper (I’d still love to produce a hip-hop album).

Of course, this all means I brought more to the band than just my iffy guitar-playing skills. Up until then, Chris had been responsible for whatever you heard or saw related to Morgana Athena. But I kind of became — shocking, I know — the producer/engineer/publicist/manager. I relaunched the band for the pre-Millennial era, aesthetically, redesigning the logo, building a new website and crafting the sound of our few recordings. I also brought up the level of professionalism, crafting press releases, opening a bank account, and building relationships with radio stations and the media.

But there was blow-back. Even now, archived on some sort of Vegas goth forums from more than a decade ago, you’ll find those hardcore trenchcoaters claiming I ruined Morgana Athena, that I somehow took over and destroyed the band. Never mind that when I joined the band, it was already changing into something different (hence why I joined), nor the fact that when Morgana finally did break up in the fall of 1998 — with gigs still booked, mind you — it was because Chris quit to focus on DJing. Nope, because I was always the scapegoat for all that was wrong and bad in the Vegas goth “scene,” because, um, I WASN’T GOTH.

(OK, to be fair, I was also a dick. But that should have mattered more to the people IN the band, not outside of it, and within the band, everything was mostly gravy. Except for that one time I leaped across a coffee bar at Dru. Or that other time when I smashed at stage lights at a warehouse show. But other than that …)

Anyway, it was an interesting and enjoyable ride. We played a bunch of shows, including the first one at which I ever played drums live, we put out some decent singles that people actually played on radio stations and bought in stores, and I signed my first record contract (sort of), even though I had nothing to do with the recording of “E.S.P.” found on Hollows Hill Recordings’ “Dim View of the Future” compilation and to this day, still haven’t seen any royalties (they may be out there!). But my name’s on it, so there you go.

Next up, I’ll reveal to the world the semi-interesting tale of what the hell I did musically during the “lost years” of the late ’90s and early 2000s. Stay tuned.

BONUS: Buy “E.S.P.” MP3 at Amazon

Yep, that’s me, approximately AHEM AHEM years ago at 19 or 20, playing guitar and singing with Rahne, my Nine Inch Nails-like musical project about which you’ve probably read too much here. I had no idea this photo existed until my old bass player, Brian “Sterling” Kirsch, posted it on Facebook somewhere.

This is when Rahne was still just me and Sterling backed by a cassette player (fancy!), and our shows were more about dress-up than, um, music. I mean, the music was serious, but so was the planning that went into glamming up. This particular image was shot at Cyber-City Cafe, which was a gay-owned and very gay-friendly internet cafe at Flamingo and Maryland Parkway. And we were a gay-friendly band. That probably explains why this night, I wore a tight baby tee that read “SLUT” (now I remember!) on the front. I believe later I added the Rahne logo above it. And I think I still have it somewhere.

And yes, I was wearing sunglasses at night.

Somewhere, I have this show recorded on cassette. It includes a terrible cover of Prince’s “Darling Nikki,” long before everyone else covered “Darling Nikki.” If I find it, I’ll attempt to share a digital version with you. Because you’re full of self-loathing.

Illustration by Michael Todoran

Place Gallery is a scrappy, homespun art gallery and artist studio run by one of my oldest friends, the awesome Gina Quaranto. In recent months, Place, located on Main Street across from the S2 Art Center, has become a favorite among the local underground/low brow/outcast art scene, hosting multiple shows every month, with epic First Friday receptions including artisans, live music, libations and more. It’s technically the first gallery in which I’ve ever formally shown art (in the LVSK8 IV group show). And, sadly, it’s become a victim of multiple factors threatening to crush its already delicate existence.

This summer, the building housing Place has had power and air conditioning problems — not something that a business in the Las Vegas summer can endure. Then, a few weeks ago, an exploding electrical transformer rocked Main Street, damaging businesses for blocks, including Place, which is now missing several window and door panes. The gallery has been temporarily closed due to the conditions, and while insurance will cover replacement of the glass, it won’t do so without a steep $5,000 deductible, which Place just doesn’t have in pocket.

Art Renegades, the collective that organized LVSK8 IV, is moving the skateboard art show temporarily to Todd VonBaastian’s Alios Gallery, a few blocks south of Place at 1221 S. Main St., where a second reception for the group show will be held this Friday. At the same time, a fund-raising event is being held at Alios for Place, called “Picking Up The Pieces.” Details are still being worked out, but there will be some sort of art auction, raffle prizes, bake sale and other fun stuff to raise funds for Place — whether it’s to pay for repairs to the existing location, or help pay for the gallery to move somewhere less volatile.

I donated five of the Giant Robot prints (as seen in my online store) for the art auction, as well as a complete set of comics from Pop! Goes the Icon (including The Utopian #1-3 and Omega Comics Presents #1-2), and I’ll be down there for the benefit auction/reception as well. It starts at 6:30 p.m., and I highly recommend you come down and toss in a few bucks. Great deals on locally grown art can be had. And you can see the monstrosity I painted on a skateboard deck as well.

If you can’t make it to the event, donations are being accepted online as well.

The top panel on this page I’m working on has taken me about three days to just get that far in rendering. Obviously, not three days straight, but three days of about two hours at a stretch. It’s the last bit of inking I need to finish for my contribution to Tales from the Boneyard, the one-shot (well, possibly annually recurring) anthology comic book I volunteered to publish and edit for the 2010 Vegas Valley Comic Book Festival.

You can learn a heck more about the comic at the official website, which also features the first chapter of the anthology, an amazing story by newcomer Barret Thomson. He’s set the bar high, but that’s good, because it goes to prove the awesome collection of homespun talent we have here in Las Vegas (though, sadly, Barret is moving to South Korea to teach for an undetermined amount of time). This project has sucked up a good amount of my time lately, between wrangling freelancers, building the website, doing public relations and marketing, editing and, as evidenced above (and in previous posts), completing my own eight-page tale, which will make its web debut on Aug. 15.

At the same time, the band has started recording tracks for our forthcoming debut EP, the Utopian is careening headlong into its final chapter, and as soon as I finish the Tales from the Boneyard story, I have to dive back into finishing the third chapter of “Omega” for Omega Comics Presents #3, which is supposed to be released this fall, assuming my head doesn’t implode by then. Oh, on top of that, TV and comic book writer Mark Guggenheim went off and announced a new comic book he’s created for release this November, coincidentally titled Utopian. So as you might imagine, I’ve spent some time talking to lawyers the last week as well.

It’s all a bit overwhelming, but at the very least, most of these projects have termination dates in the foreseeable future. The Utopian (erm, mine, not the Johnny-come-lately) will finish its year-and-a-half web run in September or October, just in time for a fourth and final print issue to make its appearance, and then — assuming I still have the rights to that name by then — fully collected as one complete work in a trade paperback collection in the winter, hopefully in time for Christmakwanukah. At which time all of you who have been holding out on reading The Utopian (yes, I’m looking at you, Sara) will have no excuse not to enjoy 100-plus pages of all the teen dramatic fantasy you can handle, in full blazing color.

Whew. I’m kind of tired just typing all this. Or maybe I’m tired from working on that stupid, overly detailed panel above for the last few hours. More soon.

There were, to be fair, servers bringing around appetizers … not that any of them stopped for us. However, if there were servers carrying pre-made cocktails (at an event like this, there should have been, to ease bar traffic), either they stopped serving mid-party or never made it my way, but I didn’t see them. Apparently there was supposed to be some 3-D technology happening. Again, if there was, I never saw it. What was there? There was an emcee roaming the event with a wireless microphone, loudly addressing crowds over the DJ’s beats. There were groups of people ordering what seemed a dozen mojitos at a time. There was a venue design that seemed unable to accommodate a reasonable flow of traffic — not a good thing for a location touting itself as a nightlife destination.

There seems to be a trend with these restaurant-club fusions opening at Town Square lately. Like nu sanctuary (which is located directly below Lolita’s), these venues appear to be iterations on the same old restaurant/nightlife concept touting themselves as something new, different or even innovative. But their opening events have been messes, no better than your average touristy nightclub experience: too many people, overly loud music, understaffed bars — none of which lead me to believe they’re doing anything unique or distinctive. Yes, you don’t want an empty room at a party — it doesn’t look good for the people in attendance or the post-event press release. But 1,200 people packed into the VIP party for Lolita’s, and I can’t say for sure, but that feels a bit uncomfortable for even the 10,000 square-foot space (and who knows how much of that is customer-accessible area?).

This is how these things typically work: venue soft opens, works out the kinks, then invites media and whatever “VIPs” to an event. This event is the first (and possible only) chance to make a good impression, to make the venue appear to be as awesome an experience as heralded in advance press releases. Now, sure, the experience of those in attendance should somewhat resemble that of the general public, so that we can relate the best assessment of the restaurant/club/bar/whatever. But at the same time, if you’re going through the fuss of designating an event “VIP,” then the idea is to make sure those in attendance are taken care of, beyond opening the doors and the bar.

Here’s the thing: I want to say nice things about Lolita’s. I want to marvel at the 3-D entertainment, indulge in strong shots of tequila, snack on some contemporary Mexican cuisine. Hell, I was even looking forward to it. And it’s not fair to judge the place based on one overcrowded, overheated event. But often, as I said, this is a business’s only chance to make a first impression, and if it’s a bad one, I’m not likely to go back of my own volition.

This piece started back in March as a vague assignment from the A&E editor (and good friend) at Seven, Cindi Reed, when I went to Seattle for Emerald City Comic-Con. She basically told me, “If you have something interesting to write about, send it to me.” But I don’t think I did. Or, at least, I didn’t at the time. I sent a sort-of rushed, half-assed 500 words to her, nothing worth reproducing here, and the response was something to the effect of “maybe something more than a blog post?”

I decided it wasn’t really worth revising. But then something struck me as spring wore on: What about a feature about the struggles of becoming a comic writer tied into San Diego Comic-Con, littered with suggestions and stories from those who’ve endured such struggles? I pitched it, Cindi liked it, gave me twice the space, and off I went. I talked to a number of writers and editors of all levels, put together a nice piece, turned it in way early, and … now I had gone too far from the “blog post,” completely cutting out the personal.

So the piece you now have the pleasure of reading is the hybrid of my own experiences and those of others, compressed into about 1100 words. Sadly, due to the revisions, some folks I interviewed had all their quotes cut. Those folks interviewed, by the way, include writers Steve Horton, Paul Tobin and Brandon Jerwa and editor Jill Beaton, all of whom are awesome people who deserve your money or cupcakes. I’m thinking about revisiting the more objective approach and beefing it up with the massive amount of unused interview material for a longer piece to pitch to a more writing-specific outlet.

You know, when I’m not spending time making comics.

p.s. You should check out the cover story by pal and Seven music columnist Jarret Keene about artist John Bell, because John Bell is awesome and I think you should buy me one of his paintings for Christmas.

I was asked to write a story about a local Jewish musician. Off the top of my head, one came to mind immediately: Hal Savar, who leads the cover band Acoustic Soul. I wrote about Savar before, for the Las Vegas Weekly, but this would be a much longer feature, and I actually had a lot of material unused from my first interview with Savar. He and I met up again at a Starbucks to talk more specifically about his Jewish upbringing, which I didn’t expect played into his music so much, but it does! Kinda interesting. You should read the story.

DAVID is available for free at a bunch of places in Vegas, including Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, Barnes & Noble, Borders, etc. There’s no online version of the stories, but I did do a really poor scan of my story if you’re interested. Click below!

See, here’s the thing: I collected comics regularly when I was a kid, like most of us did. And when I hit my teenage years, I stopped. That was the early ’90s. Sure, I read and/or picked up an issue here or there, but I didn’t see the inside of a comic book store for about 15 years.

Then, as the story goes, I got bit by the comic bug again at San Diego Comic-Con about three years ago, and I started actually buying new issues again regularly, but that wasn’t the problem. That’s only about seven to 10 issues a month, if that. No, the problem started when I discovered Dreamwell Comics’ seasonal sidewalk sales, where the store (now called Wishing Well) would unload its back stock for pennies per copy. So I’d walk away with a stack of comics for the same price as a Capriotti’s sub (mmm Capriotti’s). At first, it was neat: Filling in holes in my back issue collection for a dime or a quarter a piece? Sweet! But then came eBay.

Not that eBay was new or I was new to it, but I discovered — don’t ask me how — a certain seller on there who auctions off Roger Stern’s “research copies” of comics. Stern is a comic book writer mostly known for his Marvel comics work in the 1970s and ’80s, hence, when he’d take on a new assignment, he’d have to bulk up his knowledge of that story or character set by consuming reference material, i.e., lots of comics. Well, these certified reference copies go for sale on eBay, the bidding is relatively low, and next thing you know, Pj is receiving boxes of dozens of comics on his doorstep. Again, at first this was really cool: “Ooh, Roger Stern’s reference copies! Certificates of authenticity! More comics to read!” But this week, the most recent batch came after a confluence of circumstances that have stuffed the closet in my second bedroom/band practice space nearly full.

Torpedo Comics, a giant online retailer launched by System of a Down drummer and certified comic geek John Dolmayan back in 2007, recently went out of business, and all of its assets were being liquidated. So yes, that means millions of comics, art, toys, games and other geek ephemera were being auctioned off for pennies on the dollar.  We’re talking lots of 5,000 comics for less than $20. And, wouldn’t you know, Torpedo was based here in the Vegas Valley, and of course, who gets the auction announcement directly sent to his e-mail? Yep. THIS GUY. Oh, what’s that? You have online bidding? IT’S LIKE EBAY FOR COMIC NERDS.

Thankfully, I set a spending limit for myself and got outbid of a few lots at the last second, but still, on Friday morning, I sauntered up to a warehouse in North Las Vegas to pick up another 350 or so comics I didn’t need — or as I found out later, already had — as well as some original art from a mid-1980s run of Iron Man by Mark Bright, Ian Akin and Brian Garvey. Money-wise, only the original art really set me back, which is OK, because that was still a deal. But the comics — oh, the comics — were subsequently dumped in my closet with two or three other boxes my guitar player, Peter, had generously donated to my collection over the last month or so.

To be fair, I don’t have THAT many comics. I have what amounts to maybe (now) seven or eight “long boxes,” which each hold about 250 comics. That’s barely 2,000 comics. I have friends who have entire rooms and houses full of these things, along with statues, figures and art (I’m looking at you, Harry Fagel). Me, I’ve never been into the collect-and-display aspect, at least not since I was still rocking a sweet mullet. But it does seem like I’ve gotten to the point where I’m just buying them because I can, not because I need or even really want to.

So … the buck stops here. That buck being the credit card in my wallet, of course. Don’t worry, Ralph, I’ll still be stopping by Alternate Reality every few weeks to pick up my (ever-dwindling) pull list. But as soon as I can find the time (hah!), I’m going to have to actually tackle this four-color monster growing in my closet, thin out the herd, and get my own eBay auctions up and running again. Before you see me on the side of the road, sitting atop a throne of long boxes, holding a sign reading “will work for comics.”

OK, to be honest, I’m looking forward to taking what might be my first real vacation in years. The location may not be the ideal summer destination for me personally, but the girlfriend and I are staying with friends of hers in a beach house for a week, so it shouldn’t be too bad. In theory, my work should be all caught up this week and the plan is to rest, recuperate and not do too much else. I will be taking sketchbooks and notebooks, and though I have no designs, it might be nice if I can just do some free-form writing like back in the day, maybe some sketches just for sketching sake, and, yeah, I’ll probably find myself doing some actual work on comic layouts. But I’m not taking a computer, I’m not taking any other tools, and I’m actually packing shorts, so I’m at least going to try to play the “vacation” game. Because I need it. Whether or not I agree.

Of course, I will have my trusty DROID, so look for what will surely be a plethora of Twitpics, Tweets and other various social media posts throughout the week. I’ll be back around July 19, in case any of you really need me. Just in time to either rejoice or lament on the fact that I won’t be at San Diego Comic-Con this year.