Almost done here


10:00, Sunday. Oh dear. Last night brought two realizations. One: with friends, there is no other place to be, than this city. Here, everything is the best that it will ever be.

Drinks at Chelsea, quiet meetings at dim tables. Robert’s friends arrive. Liberal Arts majors at Marymount, a dancer and two actors. In just a few ideas, we all ease into a comfort zone.

A cab ride over to Mulberry and Grand. Wonderful Italian meal. Osso bucco. Eggplant. Fazool. Tiramisu and cannoli. Chianti. Perfect conversation. Overlapping and segued. Political and personal. Comics come up and it crystalizes. Something that will last forever. 

A walk beside Morgan and she talks of biochemistry. Neurotransmitters. Sodium ion channels. She’s devastatingly bright and all over the place. I buy her flowers to little effect. Megan “wants to put me in her pocket.” 

Into the subway and things get strange. An improved tiff that lasts for blocks. More fun than anything I’ve done in a long time. Then some shotgun bar. Pool and 80’s music. Prince and a-ha and GNR. Megan and I team up, win, and the smile hurts it’s so wide. 

Then suddenly its over. They are gone and I make realization two: being alone here is more terrible than anywhere else. Surrounded by people and speaking to no-one. Catching little bits of conversations on cell phones as you pass on the sidewalk. 

"It’s my birthday.” 

“What she doesn’t realize is...” 

“When he says that to me I feel...”

“I love you, too." 

The depression is well settled in my brain by the time I wake Monday, from a dream of watching a couple make out in Mid-town Comics. I’m straight-jacketed. Near and inside of the things I desire most, and unable to touch any of it. 

Oh fuck me, it’s time to go back home.

NY con day 2


11:13, Saturday, at the con alone today. Missed the 11:00 Bendis panel by five minutes. A little pissed. Just as many geeks outside as in, thinking the same thing as me. “Bendis gets the big room jackass”! 
Over to the DC Crisis Counseling: 52 pick-up. A very rotund Blue Beetle waits with me in the hall. That’s why I love these things.
Inside the panel, it becomes obvious very quickly: Dan DiDio is kinda an ass. I mean this guy is being an outright tool to the audience and even to the speakers (if you can call them that, the little he lets them actually speak). He’s condescending to most, flat out rude to some. Blowing smoke, lying to these people. He won’t let some even finish their question. But we are ALL supposed to laugh at his jokes. And they’re bad. This is getting insulting. Look, I understand that some of these questions are asking for the actual plots of some books, arguably silly things about costumes, or for explicit explanation of how the Speed Force works. But this is your bread and butter Dan. These are your most loyal of followers. They deserve respect. They deserve honesty. 
Oh there it is. I knew he had to before it was over. He just took a little crack at Marvel books. X-books specifically. And with me that’s a no-no. Bad business, bad politics. Faux pas Danny-boy.
Geoff Johns just showed up. Nice guy Geoff right? Everyone loves Geoff. You know DiDio just cut him off. You can relax Dan. You’re the boss. Don’t have to prove it all the time.
13:00, Now in line for Kevin Smith. Nooge. The session works just like the Evening With Kevin Smith DVD. Lines form at the mics and star-struck fan-boys get to ask Kevin all those questions they’ve been rehearsing for weeks. And the wonderful thing about Kevin is that he hears everyone of them out. Fucks with them, just the tiniest bit, with that razor sharp wit, and then honestly and completely answers them. A tremendous guy, very appreciative and absolutely respectful. A real class act. And so fucking talented. He has the timing and delivery of a major league comedian. I don’t care how many Bennifer stories I hear, they never get old.
15:27, I decide to bump Milla Jovovitch for another shot at a Bendis panel. It’s on the cross over between comics and Hollywood. Bill Sienkiewicz, Greg Pak, Scott Mitchell Rosenberg, and Heidi MacDonald.
Bendis and Sienkiewicz don’t show. But Pak and Rosenberg make up for it. Very eloquent, very cool. Heidi MacDonald is absolutely charming. Classy and clever and very cute.
People are leaving and I feel terrible for the panel. Really a shame.
I’ll have to check out Pak’s Robot Stories and his other short films. Wasn’t aware of them at all. And I learn that there is going to be a Stray Toasters movie. Add that to your lists.
16:05, and I’m exhausted. Hungry. Can’t go back out onto the show floor. Off to the room and rest for tonight.

NY con day 1


Do u have any idea how far tickfaw fucking louisiana is from this cultural mecca? I try, and fail miserably, to describe the events of the day. I love this town. But dear god i need more time. Sensory overload on an unimaginable scale. My brain aches. Yes, more of that, please. I try to keep up, but the barrage of information and possibility blasts me to sad little wet bits on the glittered sidewalks. I hold my camera have no idea what to do with it. Eyes teary and burning. I look down at my Treo and my thumbs quiver, blahblahbablah. Language fails. 
Lunch and drinks and things seem more real. Less like tech-phantoms. Maybe i can handle the next media wave. A little drunk and the pulses don’t stab as much. I might be OK. The next few blocks are marvelously bright.
Then into the underground. Children navigate, with calm ease, tunnels and lanes that to me seem terribly sinister.
We find Midtown Comics and angels sing as we walk up the stairs. This is worse than the lunchtime drinks. Swirling images of oversized editions, omnibuses and rarities. May I stay here forever?
Again the camera is useless, I can’t make it work.
And now it’s four o’clock and I’m suddenly on the show floor. What the fuck is happening here? And how did I come to be in the middle of it? The air smells of geek ecstasy. Their dreams of huge-eyed cyborg warrior-poets come to life and they weep at their tiny, perfect feet.
I see Brian Bendis sign an issue for a teenaged fan and suddenly the world snaps into place. Something clicks in my brain and we are all going to be alright. This is a good thing and “Yes, more of that please”.
Sharp and neon-bright, the night air smacks me around. We settle into lovely Italian smiles and olive oil voices. The best bottle of Chianti I’ve ever had and everything is so clear. A tiramisu that tastes like a dream from which you never want to wake. And dark-haired, dark-eyed, angels hover nearby. Sing-song voices ensorcel me and I never want to leave.
And now. the tic-tack of keys and things seem to level out. Wine smoothes out the urban static. I just got here. “Yes, more of that please.”

Buncha savages in this town

i suppose i will make a more official welcome to this later. but for now it's all i can do to figure out what's going on in this town.