Bleeding Neon

Yeah, I had to question myself when I typed that too. It’s not bad enough that I’m traveling to New Jersey in the middle of summer while that area of the country is experiencing record-high temperatures. But worse, I’m headed to Seaside Heights, which might be the epicenter of all things douchebag (though that argument could be made for the place I call home, too), at least if you watch MTV (I don’t). Yes, I live in a hot-ass desert, but it’s the desert part (read: dry heat) that makes 100-degree-or-more temps bearable, unlike, say, Florida. But coupled with high humidity and guys who call themselves “The Situation?” Gah.

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.

It’s Tuesday afternoon. And I’m freaking out just a little. Because in four days, I’m flying up to Seattle for Emerald City Comicon. The reason I’m freaking out (just a little) is not because of the travel (which I love) or the city (which I love) or the convention (which should be awesome), but because even though I’ve attended many comic book shows before, this is the first major one at which I’m actually holding down a table. Pretty much by myself. For two days.

Actually, I’m excited. I know a lot of people who will be up there, though most of them I’ve only dealt with over the internet, including Denis Caron, Stephen Downer, Sven Straatveit and Jason Copland, who will be joining me at our little Pop! Goes the Icon table in Artist Alley on Saturday to hang out, sign stuff and help give away two pages of his original art from the first issue of Omega Comics Presents.

But the only show I’ve tabled thus far was the Vegas Valley Comic Book Festival, which is relatively small (1200 attendees), and was only five hours. I decided to forego bigger shows such as San Diego Comic-Con this year in lieu of more intimate (or at least, not four-day blowouts) venues such as ECCC and Long Beach Comic-Con. But still, ECCC is pretty huge, and I’ll have to be all cheery and approachable behind a table for two full days, something I haven’t done since I worked in retail — and that was a long time ago.

And as I’ll be in Artist Alley, people might expect, I dunno, sketches or something. And I’ve already had requests from folks attending for sketches. I gives me performance anxiety. And I would just pull the “I’m a writer” card, but everyone knows I also draw the comics I write, so I can’t really fairly do that. And sitting next to Jason, who’s a for-real artist, well, it has me a bit antsy.

But the main reason for my mini-freak-out, aside from still not having all my materials prepared and dreading how many supplies I’ll have to load into the luggage I don’t own yet, is whether or not I’ll sell enough comics to justify the huge expense of flying both Sara and I to Seattle, staying in a downtown hotel for three nights, and paying hundreds of dollars for space and power at the convention. Due to distribution fuck-ups with the first issue of OCP, I HAVE to count on convention sales to turn a profit on this thing and get my creators paid. So I’m being optimistic and bringing a bunch more copies than I think I’ll sell. But what if over the course of two days I don’t sell diddly? Is it because I’m a bad salesperson? Or because the product quality isn’t there? See why my nerves are a little wracked?

Of course, I’m sure things will go smoothly. And I’ll have a good time meeting new people, seeing old friends and generally hanging out in one of my favorite U.S. cities. But still: nervous.

If you live in Seattle or plan to attend the show, PLEASE come visit me at Artist Alley booth M-12. In addition to the first issue of the well-reviewed OCP #1, I’ll also have bargains on The Utopian #s 1 and 2, as well as free swag. And I’ll draw you a sketch if you ask nicely. So long as it’s not a car.

It must be October again, because my Google Calendar is reminding me I have a flight to catch to Orlando, Fla. on Wednesday morning. In what appears to be developing into an annual tradition, Sara and I are heading out to the State That F*cked Our Nation For Four More Years for a friend’s wedding, some R&R, and a reminder of why I don’t live in Florida:

Yes, it will be 94 degrees on Wednesday when we arrive and likely raining. If not, it will be 85 percent humid. Either way, it will be hot. And it will be wet. And neither in a good way.

But, all that being said, I’m looking forward to getting away for a few days. It’s been a busy month around these parts, and I worked extra hard the last week to get caught up for this trip. While a portion of the excursion will be spent in Melbourne Beach for wedding-related activities, the rest will be just chilling in O-Town, with no set plans. Well, except for a meet-up with Alert Nerd supreme Matt Springer. That should be fun.

Other than that, there will be the usual Utopian updates on Wednesday and Friday this week, a few CD reviews in the Las Vegas Weekly on Thursday, and I believe the October issue of 944 drops as well, featuring my roundtable discussion with four hot local architects. Keep your eyes open, and don’t break anything while I’m gone.

Why, yes, that’s me ducking behind a giant cigar outside S.F. Deli in San Francisco with my two pals, The Fist and Little Aaron. Little Aaron is the foam board-mounted miniature alter-ego of Michigan buddy Aaron Stahdjkfhrghdyghdiwicz.* Aaron’s a character. He takes Little Aaron with him every time he travels, and takes pictures of him, with him, etc. Little Aaron got run over while in England, where Aaron was trying to take his picture at the famous Abbey Road crosswalk. But he survived to tell the tale — and take his picture with The Fist.

*Aaron has one of those crazy Polish last names with too many consonants and not enough vowels, so this is as close as I’m going to get in spelling it without looking it up.

This puppy was taken at the Use Hearing Protection event at the Paley Center in Beverly Hills this spring, where legendary Factory Records graphic designer Peter Saville made a rare United States appearance. That’s me, shockingly fist-less, on the left (duh) and Jason Feinberg with the crazy mutton chops on the right. I apologize, dude in the middle, who is a friend of Jason’s I just met that night and I have forgotten his name already. But he is from the U.K. and is cool.

I meant to write a review of the event post-mortem, but I never got around to it. Actually, I started writing a post about the whole Los Angeles experience, which is still sitting in my drafts folder entitled “L.A. Story.” One day I will finish it and post it. But the Q&A session was amazing, Saville is quite brilliant, and if you missed it, um, well, you missed it.