November 4th, 2003

smokin'

Up for air...

Howdy. You all.

Deadlines still have me on the floor, but I just figured I'd check in with a few quick words after finishing up a script that I finally managed to nail down, with Sarah's aid. Things aren't much better than before work-wise, it seems every job has managed to spiral out of control and everything's taking longer than even my worst case scenario-a-tron indicated, but fingers crossed we'll have things under some sort of control by the end of the year. Every time it looks like I'm going to catch up a bit, something has been tossed in the way. A couple of weeks ago a tree fell from our yard into the neighbor's yard after a windstorm (no tree service could come to even give us an estimate for days, so Sarah and I sawed up and carried the tree ourselves. No small task for a pink-handed dandy like myself. We still have to cut and cart the chopped up sections stranded in our yard when we find the time, oy, such a mess). Our tv finally conked for good, which was a pain in the ass, and a badly timed one to boot as we didn't have great plans for Sarah's birthday, so a little movie-time would have been nice. We bought a small temporary set (temporary until big flatscreens are cheap as chips) and it was defective, so we had to trudge back out to retrun it and little noodle-muscles me had to lug another tv up our perilous stairs, almost killing hisself. Last Thursday I finally got my stress fever, which I've been expecting for weeks now. I spent a few days in bed and on the couch reading horror books and Little Lulu comics and watching stuff on the new tv I don't really remember, too f'd to work, but not sick enough stop worrying about work. Oh, we watched A Star is Born, the James Mason version. Boy, he's swell. Anyway, some other stupid jazz has gone down, the schedule's still a wreck and a half, we've been turning down jobs and praying they'll be there for us when we finish the logjam up, and I'm very likely jeopardizing the CN pilot because of this rigamarole. As Charlie Brown said, sigh. At least I've been away from the depressing news, and the weather in NYC has been fan-fucking-tastic (80 degrees today, in November).

And no, we didn't do anything for Halloween. Too sick to go to my friend Kevin's annual party. We stayed in, lit all our spider candelabras and crap, and watched some horror movies. Mellow.

Not an exciting post, but at least you HOF faithful know I'm alive. Hope you guys and ghouls had a cool Halloween, hopefully I'll be back here bitching and cracking wise on a regular basis asap. Look at all this prime comics crap I'm missing out on, the DC/JHU Mein Comps debacle, Crossgen choking on their own blood, SPX being a big disappointment, etc.

Here's a comics plug before I get swallowed up once more in a four color fog: Gilbert Hernandez's massive Palomar collection is out in the decent three hundred or so comic shops that ordered it. Steal from yo momma if you have to and haul one of these suckers away to-day. To-DAY!

Latersville.