hardtravelinghero

Kansas – Well Hell, It Almost Ain't Like Nothin' At All

2012-01-10T23:47:00.002-05:00

We drive through Kansas darkness. There are about two to three dozen radio stations, about half are talk radio, most of the other half are country and a mere one or two are “normal” music. To the left of I-70 Eastbound, near mile 220, something catches my eye as I look up from the computer screen. Maybe fifty feet in the air dozens of red lights blink on and off like a firefly orgy. What must be dozens of giant wind turbines tower over the landscape, invisible in the pitch but for their ruby warning lights. I suggest how awesome it would look if each blade tip had a light, my father asks, “Like those toys at the circus that change colors?” I say, “Almost, but it would still be cool even if they were all red”, as I think about the aesthetics or lack thereof in so much modern engineering. While the early-January Kansas scenery offers little during the day, the night may offer a vision of red electric sex. Pretend bug sex--if only fireflies glowed in various colors summer nights in grassy regions would offer a biological light show unrivaled by any of human creation.

Utah Day, Colorado Night

2012-01-09T23:58:00.001-05:00

I-70 Colorado

Towns such as Vail, the famous ski resort town for the wealthy, probably as well-known as nearby Aspen, are lit for the holidays, aspens and some kinds of pine trees bound in multi-color or all white electric glow.

Smoke issues from chimneys as my mother cautiously drives the interstate, often as much as ten miles below posted speed limits, the shoulders covered with small amounts of freshly fallen snow as we approach Brekenridge, where National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation was filmed, as if the hill Clark W. Griswalk, AKA Sparky, sledded down like greased lightning could exist in the suburbs of Chicago.

Half hour ago my feet were freezing as I foolishly wore sandals in the snow we've finally encountered and traveled via US-highway 50 to avoid. Snow was reported along Interstate 80 by my cousin, telling us it melts by day, but high winds may cause drifts.

Less than two hours from Longmont, via the outskirts of Denver, Mother Moon casts her glow through the tops of forty-foot pines though just two hours ago her glow could scarcely be seen over the crests of some of the tallest mountains in the country.

We pass through more towns, trees still lit, icicle-style lights still dangling from awnings, as if Christmas is eternal here in this skiers' paradise.

Earlier in the day we dallied through Eastern Utah, having taken our first interstate in days. I-70 winds through canyons carved by winds and water erosion and highway engineers. Other times we passed near sheer drop-offs. Occasionally the landscape is fenced in, cattle grazing, we wonder if we'll see more headless animals, having already encountered a cow and deer that have gone beyond lobotomy. That's my new phrase for beheadings, jihadists beware. No, not “jingoists”, Mr. Spellcheck.

Here were are in snowy Colorado again, about to head into one of many tunnels carved through mountain slopes when it's not easily possible to build the road along the bends the rivers take between mountain passes. We just have to be cautious of tunnel cannibals. This tunnel has a stoplight. We're at 11,058 feet or so and the radio turns to static.

Mom eats some peanuts as this is one of the more easily-driven portions of the road, the runnel possibly over a mile long as Patty breathes heavily with anxiety in the back seat. The tunnel continues on, further than a mile perhaps. Night skies again as we pass a junction for US-6 West and the roadways dives into the valley at 5- and 6-percent grades, darkness enveloping any visibility beyond. The tail lights of the cars ahead act as guides, pied-pipers leading us with only 92.3 coming in on the radio as more snow is announced and “Closing Time” opens.

I begin to feel emotional as I realize how effortlessly I am writing this, hoping to get back into the practice of writing frequently and keeping up with my blogging.

Sunrise in Fillmore, Utah hadn't happened until after 7 am, when I'd hoped we'd be on the road by. Alas, we had another late start as my father and I enjoyed our free breakfast and I worked on adding a few revisions to my syllabus that are now required by the college. After a sleepless night of crying and whining dog snuck carefully into the motel room we headed onto the road after filling up the family truckster at $3.05 a gallon.

Almost immediately we stopped at an antique store in Scipio as we headed for the merger of US-50 East and I-70. My father bought a 16-inch dutch oven for $35.00 cash, after the “New York” discount of $3.00. With little room in the jeep we placed the oven atop on of the bins of Lego my aunt had acquired.

Onward we traversed through all shades of brown, red, and gray, some layers of rock, black.

Presently the moon's light peeks over a ridge beautifully lighting a plane's contrail.

At one of the first rest areas on the highway witnessed rounded rock formations speckled with swiss cheese holes, my mother referring to them as Martian rocks, for once the caves were not declared bear caves, though one other time the “caves”, mostly scarcely shadowed spaces below short overhangs. My mother has more of an imagination than I.

As my parents used the flushless facilities I ran and leapt down the rock formations that reminded of Sedona, Arizona sans redrock coloration, scrub grew here and there. Always, I think of the original Predator movie when I leap, bending my knees to send the shock of impact harmlessly up my body or whatever it is that happens when I do that. There I took the following pictures.

My mother asks me which path we're taking to Longmont, if it's I-25. Not doing a good job of taking the tone of annoyance out of my voice as I think about how the TomTom GPS will tell her when to turn off and which way to go, I tell her, “No, we're taking US-6 around this side of the city.” Then she changes lanes on a curve as my father tried to water the dog (merely meaning “give the dog water”) and it sounds like he spills it as he curses, my father often being quick to swear in such instances. Yes, I think that's where I get it from, the Old Man, who weaves a tapestry of obscenities which still hovers over Huntington today.

Minutes later we drive over Clear Creek and pass some brightly lit excavation, some sort of heavily-glassed building seemingly built into the mountainside. Dry snow crystals sparkle beyond the shoulders and orange warning lights flash over diamond signs depicting hugely antlered elk, Denver not far off as the freeway opens into three lanes.

At the Sedona-like rest stop I return to the parking area to pee and see about a dozen blankets of “Indian” pottery and jewelry neatly laid out beneath the signs stating “No Vending or Soliciting”. What would people solicit out there?

On I-70, writing this, I find I'm sweating too much and deign to emerge from the cocoon of sweater and jacket, struggling to not elbow my mother, as if I'm molting, Houdini-like. A sign warns truckers to, “not be fooled” about the 4-percent downgrade over the next mile. A runaway truck ramp sign appears followed by one more, with flashing warning lights. My mother scrapes the rumble strip in the shoulder, perhaps preparing to take the ramp. Denver's lights sparkle beyond the mountains in eternal Christmas.

PS: Speaking of eternal Christmas, we just passed a bicyclist safely decked in reflectors, to which I explained, “It's Tron!”

Roadside Americana as the Hardtravelinghero is Reborn

2011-12-29T02:16:00.000-05:00

Driving south I-81 we happened across Johnny Appleseed's Restaurant in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia when we stopped to get gas and pee.

Pressing the button near Johnny provides visitors with a brief history of the mythological Appleseed and a sampling of the restaurant's menu. It was very Wally World but luckily Johnny didn't tell me the restaurant was closed two weeks for repairs otherwise I'd have punched him in the fucking nose and gone in and cooked myself breakfast anyhow.

I'd already had steak for breakfast so all I ordered were eggs, over easy, which are hard to fuck up and tasted as they should. Straying a bit from my paleo diet I took a bite of one of their apple fritters, basically doughnut holes (even though a "hole" is something intangible) that tasted more like doughnut than apple.

The service was fair-to-middlin' as I asked for a large OJ, not a small. I figured it'd be better to have less liquid in my body anyhow, what with Charlotte being hours away yet.

The Mostly Hetero Adventures with the Two-Spirit Kid

2009-06-02T15:39:00.004-04:00

So far:

Day 1: Tuesday: My suitcase that I did not want to check, but had to because of the tiny ass plane, was left in Atlanta as the flight attendant said it would be transferred to my next plane.

After arranging to have my suitcase sent to Durango, Dan and I left Phoenix and took the old highways to Payson, where Fire in the Sky happened. Then we went through Snow Flake and um.... I forgot. Then we went up to Holbrook and I saw the dinosaur on the cover of my book, Roadside America, and it was awesome. There was a family of dinosaurs and dinosaurs eating dinosaurs.

Then we took that dreadful patch of I-40 to US-191 into the Navajo Rez (reservation) and saw what was probably a drunk, sort of ambling and meandering in what is almost to which Dan said, "Come on. Don't be a typical Reservation drunk." A little later we saw a dead dog on the side of the road to which I said, "Come on. Don't be a typical Rez dog."

We arrived at Canyon de Chelley around 7:00 and bought some food. At the Basha's supermarket I felt like a minority for only the third time in my life. It's somewhat disconcerting at first. Such is white privilege. There were many mutts roaming the parking lot.

I wanted some hot food that wasn't fast food, but it seems there are no restaurants there, so I had Burger King. Of course it was getting dark and the free campground was closed, so we drove into the growing darkness to what the sign referred to as Spider Rock campsite. On the sides of the roads were loose horses, many adults with babies.

We set up a fire and warmed ourselves. We had no tent so we set up blankets and what not in the back of Dan's Saturn View. We didn't have much firewood, so we bought some from the campsite owner, Harold. Then we made a nice fire and toasted some of the giant ass marshmallows we'd bought.

We went to sleep and some time later I awoke with the sweatiest of balls.

I have no idea what time it was, but it was dark and windy as fuck when I could no longer sleep through the diahrea pangs. In the ladies outhouse I had to let it rip while the cold winds ripped into me. It finally ended and I walked back to the car in the slight moonlight and got settled back in after waking Dan. Then the pangs began anew. This time I realized the men's outhouse was just on the other side.

At some point it began to rain. I did not sleep well.

Day 2: I reluctantly awoke a bunch more times and Dan stayed away at around 5:30 and walked some trailed while I attempted more sleep. We finally left the site at around 7:00 am and checked out some scenic overlooks before heading to the Four Corners.

The Four Corners costs $3.00 per person. It's not all that impressive, but since Tyrel and I never made it four years ago, I had to go for that symbolism and the fake four corners symbolism, as apparently the true four corners is elsewhere. I bought some fresh fry bread with honey from a cute old lady. I took two loperamide (anti-spasmodic) after my previous night's horror.

Then we drove on to Durango, about two hours away. Most of this part of southern Colorado is so lush. Since I'd heard nothing regarding my suitcase, we hung in Durango for a while at the Durango Coffee Company so Dan could do some homework or work. Fucking responsibilities.

Once he was done we walked down Main Ave. and found a sweet foot path along the Anima River. It was really beautiful and it sucked that I had no charged batteries because my car adapter was in my AWOL suitcase.

I checked out the fares on the narrow gage railroad, but it's expensive and an all day affair. We ended up eating at this funky taqueria. The tacos were decent.

Durango seems a lot nicer than Flagstaff, with huge green mountains on all sides and an awesome river with rafting trips. Perhaps we'll get a chance to do that on the way back through after the Great Sand Dunes and Gunnison, and perhaps Black Canyon National Park. But Durango is still small, probably gets a shit ton of snow, but might be nice to live in one of the river overlook apartments that probably cost an arm and a leg, and I'd only want to try it for six months. Colorado is so much better than Arizona.

Anyhow, about that time it was pouring ass rain and six, so if my suitcase didn't make it on the noon flight (which it probably did), it would be there in the six o'clock flight. And so it was. By time we arrived at the tiny airport the rain had ceased, but once we'd gotten back on US-160 it began raining like a mothafuck again, off and on.

The speed is normally 65, which is fine, but not when there's a deluge. When twilight began we came upon the impressive and snow-capped Rockies. It's a beautiful sight: clouds passing between mountain peaks, green trees everywhere, a river to the left. At this point it was not raining, so I pulled over and Dan took some photos. I don't know if they can capture the majesty.

Then we realized we'd have to drive into those snowy mountains.

Up we climbed at 30 miles per hour, slowly, slowly, crawling, the temperature dropping until it hit the mid-thirties. We finally crested in the darkness, snow and ice on the ground, water gushing from the mountain tops. Yeah.

The next signs said 8% downgrade and so I decided I needed to piss before committing to the downhill onslaught to the Death Proof soundtrack.

More to come regarding this night soon...

Recent Updates On My Blog!

2008-10-16T21:00:00.000-04:00

Welcome to my travel blog.

This will be the first entry you'll see each time you arrive at my blog.

I put a lot of work into this blog. I cannot fathom how many hours I've spent posting pictures and writing about the adventures that go along with the photographs I've taken (and occasional guest photographers have taken).

Recent updates thru 15 October 2008:

Photos and copy have been added to Giant Potato Men, Axes, etc, with more to come.
Six Flags: The Dark Knight Coaster Review
Richmond Zine Fest Review (I don't think I'm gonna edit again)

My apologies on slow updates. I'm now very busy with the following: my job, my horrible commute, and the proper motivation.

COMING SOON!
To a blog near you...

Youtube Video additions embedded in the 2006 road trip entries!
The Vanderbilt Planetarium from late May 2007
Text for Skyline Caverns in Front Royal, VA from 9 July 2007
Roadside Americana, old timey Shell Service Station, North Carolina
Roadside Americana, World's Largest Chest of Drawers (formerly?), North Carolina
Boston text
Bay of Fundy, National Park, CANADA
Giant Lobster, Shediac, New Brunswick, CANADA
Prince Edward Island, 13 Km Confederation Bridge
Acadia National Park, Maine, USA
Last Call for Coney Island, Brooklyn, New York
St. Louis Science Center - Science of Marvel Superheroes Exhibit
Cross-Country Again: Colorado and New Mexico Skies
Zion National Park, Utah
Classic Car Show, Flagstaff, Arizona
Disneyland, Anaheim, California
Santa Monica Sunset, California
Arcosanti, Arizona
Amarillo, Texas
San Diego, California
Tombstone and Bisbee, Arizona
St. Louis Zoo, Missouri
SPX 2008

Always,
Your Hero

Hardly Rich in Richmond: Richmond Zine Fest 2008 Review

2008-10-11T23:59:00.005-04:00

Welcome to the Richmond Zine Fest.

I didn't know exactly what to expect from this event. I only briefly looked over their homepage and gleaned basic information on time and location. It was hard to pass up this event, even a week after SPX 2008, one of the more well-known, regional expositions for the small press exhibitors. Just over an hour away and free?! Fuck yeah! And for your sake, again, what the fuck is a zine?

The only other zine fest I've been to was the Houston Zine Fest 2006, which was held in conjunction with another concurrent arts event: The Westheimer Block Party, where Cej, John, and I represented the ArmzRace comics and cartoons collective. My review of the Houston Comics & Zine Fest 2006 / Westheimer Block Party can be found here on my very own hardtravelinghero blog.

Jonica didn't know what to expect either. Not that she was thrilled by the event, but that look of contempt is fake. You can see the smile under her false face. Then again, she might have been imagining what it's like on Suds and Studs night, complete with rainbow colored disco ball.

Here are some things from the FREE table:

My spending wasn't "too" bad at this show. Somewhere in the vicinity of $40-$70. I did a lot of swapping with Booty Call. Folks where very swap friendly at this venue, even though I forgot my "T" friendly button. "T" is in trade. I don't think many would confuse me for a transvestite or transgendered. Then again...

What follows are the comics and zines I bought, swapped, or snagged for free, because I'm that cool. Or they were free.

Zines!

The thing about zines is: There are so many! There are such a variety, and if there is a table full of mixed theme zines, it can be difficult when there is so much choice and there is only really the cover to go by, and you know what the popular saying about that is. This problem of choice (wow--did I just say that?) is fine if all these zines were free, as some are made to be. Some zinesters charge for their final product. This is fine as well, as many zines take several, to dozens of hours to make. Maybe even more. Some zines are filled with pages upon pages of small print text, complete with citations and footnotes. As someone with an MA in Literature, I know how long that all takes.

My advice to newbie zinesters: Have a good, or great "sales" pitch, even if your zine is free of charge. My other piece of advice is: Go for a zine with some kind of point or purpose. Personally (and this may not be true of most people), I usually cannot stand "nonsense" zines, that is, zines of little consequence. I can't relate to them or you, because I don't know what the hell is going on or why it is going on.

Perzines are fine (personal zines). But totally random scribblings...eh.

What we have here is:

Learning to Leave a Paper Trail - Zine Distro Newsletter Fall 2008
The Zinester's Guide to U.S. Mail - Zine World: A Reader's Guide to the Underground Press
The Nine Step Guide to Artistic Credibility - R.M. Rhodes
Indie Fashionista - Simply Lark Press
The Zoo is Called Barnard - Barnard Library
Cognitive Chaos Second Edition and Issue Three - Christine Stoddard

there an artist (ecco un artista) / Learnout - Danielle - (This one seems like more of a comic than a "zine." Whoops.)
Rank #2
Virginia Urban Pagan Review - Samhain/Yule 2008

Monster Gripes
Tax Report
I'm Not Angry Anymore / One Girl Revolution / Mrs. Noggle - Jolie Noggle
Breakfast at Twilight / The Road of Sand - Erica Satifka
Make This Day - Ashleigh Addict
The Lesbian Lexicon Project - Stevie Anntonym
D*I*Y Comix (Revised 3rd Edition) - Shawn Granton
Smile
Nontoxic housecleaning - Raleigh Briggs
Dear America, I'm Lost # 4

Comics!

Of course what I was really interested in were comics. Call them mini comics if you must, but whatever. Comics. I came out with a decent haul, some of it from swaps, some if it from my thick wad...of singles, with some decent discounts. Some of the exhibitors are pretty awesome and strike deals without being asked (not that I don't ask sometimes, several times, it depends). I'll be like, "I'd like to buy these." So they start adding up numbers and I'm all like, "Oh, and would you like to have a copy of my zine thingy?" And they're responding, "Why yes," and some other things like that. Sometimes that's how it rolls.

The Saddest Story Ever Told - Sarah Louise Wahrhaftig
Moral Code - Jessica White
Evolution Comics # 1 - Erica Satifka
Assassin and the whiner # 15 / You Don't Get There From Here # 1 and 2 - Carrie McNinch
Taken For a Ride - Ken Dahl

Lunch Hour Comix - Rob Ullman
Missed Connections - Nate Waggoner and Craig S. Liszt
Doctor Demo's Taphouse of Tall Tales and Short Stories: The Wonders of Science - The DC Conspiracy
Monsters # 1 and 2 - Ken Dahl
Cramhole - Billups Allen & Amy Shapiro
Animal Stew - Matt Dembicki

The Art School Chronicles Year 1 and Year 2 - Jessica White
Robotmonkeytron / Robot Guy / Ultimate Badass Forever - Oura Sananikone
Reporter # 1 - Dylan Williams
Doctor Dremo Vol. 1 - Matt Dembicki
Welcome to the Dahl House (TPB) - Ken Dahl - Order here.
Venus in Blue Jeans, Venus in Furs - Julia Gfrorer
Fart Party # 3 - Julia Wertz
Sourpuss # 2 - Robyn Chapman
Namby Pampy # 4 - Rina Ayuyang

Distro All Humans!

Microcosm Publishing was there, representing countless comicsters and zinesters. I gave a few copies of Booty Call to...shit--can't remember his name even though we talked for ten minutes straight. I'll have to email Nate Powell and ask, since they know each other. I grabbed an extra copy of the distro, that is, distribution catalog, for a friend in Sacto.

What is a distro? you may ask. To put it basically, it is a catalog and sometimes seller, publisher, go-between, consignment "shop," distributor, and probably other countless services that make it easier for creators of comics and zines to get their works in the hands of interested readers.

Sketchbooks, Tom Tom, and Barbecues, Oh My!

Like a dolt, I forgot my sketchbook, and instead of taking 15 or so minutes so retrieve it before we passed our interstate exit after a free McDonald's breakfast, I figured I'd see who was at the show before deciding if I needed to potentially waste that valuable show time. If there were no comics or interesting visual arts people, I didn't think I'd need one. But then once we arrived, half hour later than planned, I realized there were a bunch of comics folk there. So off to Target...which had no sketchbooks! Luckily there was a Barnes and Noble right there, though I wanted to try to find the art supply store Robert Ullman had mentioned, with Jonica's GPS, but it was a no go on the memory--ours, not the GPS's. So $12 and half hour wasted later I've got a new sketchbook.

On the way back to the Gay Community Center we decide to try some BBQ. Since neither Jonica or I could remember the name of the place Rob Ullman mentioned as the non-vinigery Southern Style BBQ (which is prevelent here), we ended up at Bill's Barbecue. As I'd been awake most of the predawn hours with the runs, I decided on the generic plain grilled chicken sandwhich platter with hush puppies. The hush puppies were good, and even tolerable by Jonica's standards, as often hush puppies are very oniony. She got BBQ pork and it was all vinegary. I don't think we'll be returning to any of Bill's locations around Richmond, though I would give the menu another try, even though I didn't much care for the coleslaw. It was too minced.

DIY Workshop

Returning to the zine fest, I shopped and swapped some more. At 2:30, Jonica and I attended a 40-minute DIY workshop run by Rob Ullman, Dylan Williams, and Spencer Hanson. We got to look at many examples of comics with silk screened covers, sometimes one color, sometimes multiple colors. The occasional gimmick cover (small press has these too?!). The hosts also informed us on how we can get free paper samples at MrFrench. Distribution of comics was another topic discussed and it was recommended that comics and zine makers try wholesale for cash or store credit, or consignment at local comic shops, music stores, etc. Additionally recommended ia exhibit at shows such as SPX or the Richmond Zine Fest (where a table is something like $20 for the day at the latter event).

Finally: The Sketches

I managed to obtain the following sketches from some awesome comics making folk:

Rob Ullman:

Oura X:

Was it worth it?

Of course. I only wish I had been there from start to finish, without leaving for more than half an hour. Three sketches are hardly enough. And I didn't spend enough money. Well, I did, but you know, in support of the arts.

Welcome Me, Commonwealth of Virginia

2008-07-11T20:16:00.001-04:00

I’m moving on Tuesday 15 July. Jonica and I haven’t got jobs yet, or even a place to stay. We’re gonna get one of those weekly hotels and check out the apartments that we’ve seen online. Oh yeah. We’re going to the Norfolk, Virginia area and that’s final. Hampton Roads, which I guess includes, Newport News, Norfolk, Virginia Beach, Portsmouth, Chesapeake, and whatever Hampton. Or maybe it’s just Hampton, with no cardinal direction or anything else attached to it.

Technically, Virginia is not a state, but a commonwealth. This information came to me on the History Channel the other day.

There are a few community colleges, and a few other colleges and universities in the area. Hopefully I’ll hear from one or more of them soon regarding adjunct work. Worst case scenario, I substitute at the public schools. I hate early hours. Then again, perhaps some more interesting opportunity shall knock.

I’m looking forward to being with Jonica again, and trying something new, in someplace new, as much as change makes me anxious.

I think I should try some creative hobbies that can make me some money.

I think that’s really all the news there is.

Next time I write you, I will be from Virginia.

Six Flags over the Great State of New Jersey - The Dark Knight Coaster Review

2008-07-09T23:59:00.008-04:00

Wednesday 9 July was a good day to visit Six Flags Great Adventure in New Jersey. I was prompted to go, because of the buy-one-get-one-free promotion via coupons at McDonalds. Luckily I did not have to eat that food in order to get this coupon.

The Dark Knight Coaster

My friend Steve and I entered the park at eleven in the morning, half an hour past opening. We opted to head straight to The Dark Knight Coaster, the newest ride at the park, which coincides with the opening of Christopher Nolan’s Batman sequel. The wait was about 35 minutes. Upon admittance we entered the monorail ticket lobby where TV screens play a five-minute press conference with Gotham’s latest district attorney, Harvey Dent, while he answers reporters’ questions about his stance on organized crime and the Batman. The video then begins to skip and repeat, distorting the image of Dent, while also distorting his words. Then Joker henchmen spray a crude smiley face onto the lens. Then we are let into the next segment of the building. As we walk up the ramp, some riders’ faces become Joker henchman faces on the screen where the ramp does a 180. Next we enter the four-person, two in the front and two in the back “subway” car. We turn and the car climbs and makes a bunch of sharp turns that jerk us uncomfortably. We pass through walls painted in neon Jokerisms and then make more jerky turns, with some quick, short, uneventful drops that again jerk us around, sans fun. The ride essentially continues like this, with but a few Joker henchman mannequins that appear to be up to mischief. Of course, if one is sitting on the right side, they’re likely to miss this essentially single attempt to add any Batmanesque decorum to an otherwise bland ride. I was only able to see these goons on the second go around, which only happened because there was no line when we returned to the ride at night. Steve and I basically shrugged and commented on how anti-climactic the ride was, since the commercials have been hyping this ride. Utterly disappointing. Think about Disney’s Space Mountain, but take away any sense of fun as this is not a smooth ride, and the visual aspect is severely lacking. My suggestion, aside from changing the course of the ride and the type of drops and turns on this indoor coaster, would be to add a lot more detail and perhaps make it somewhat of a haunted houses, Arkham Asylum perhaps, and have Batman’s rogues gallery up to no good. Hell, the Joker and the Riddler are roaming the park, so why not have them roam this ride. Too bad.

Jumping ahead in the day, the second time we only decided to go on the ride again because there was no line. As soon as we got through the maze of metal, the chain was put across our path. After waiting about eight minutes, we were let in and had to watch the video again, which is lame the second time around, so Steve and I looked around the room some to check out the details, like fake rats. Not very exciting. We figured we were waiting for the people ahead of us to board the ride, but once we were let into the loading room, we saw no one ahead of us and the employees rushing us to get on the ride, as if they were anxious to actually have something to do. The ride was no more fun the second time around, even when I could see those Joker henchmen.

“Perhaps today is a good day to ride” – Lt. Cmdr. Worf (sort of)

And advantage to going to Six Flags on an overcast Wednesday, with predictions of evening rain, and ridiculous fuel prices is the fact the there were so few people in the park. The 35-minute wait for The Dark Knight was one of the longest, if not the longest. For a majority of the rides we were able to go immediately to the boarding platform. El Toro had maybe a 15-minute wait (two years ago this was my first big roller coaster and it got me hooked). Nitro—almost no wait. Batman the Ride had one short wait, then subsequent rides had a less than five minute wait if the first row could be passed up, which it often couldn’t. On the JLA theme, Superman: The Ultimate Flight had a bit of a wait, so it seems to still be thrilling riders years after its opening.

We made our way to Kingda Ka (I think this is the stupidest name and it makes me think of The Karate Kid), which still holds the record for the tallest and fastest coaster at 45 stories and 128 mph. Unfortunately the ride was then down for some issues it was having.

In the meantime we went to ride the Superman coaster. While waiting on line for that we saw riders trapped on the initial incline for The Great American Scream Machine, which we were told would likely be up and running again shortly. I wasn’t too sure I’d want to go on a ride that just had such a problem, as it really would have been a scream machine what with my acrophobia (thank you for that word Batman: The Animated Series). We saw Kingda Ka up and running again and headed over to it.

I was incredibly nervous as Steve and I waited for the first row on this insane twisting and speeding coaster. We slowly got closer to the front of the line for the first row of this coaster, with two sets of thrill seekers to go ahead of us when it began raining and the ride was shut down. We waited about fifteen minutes as the announcement made no guarantees that the ride would be running again, due to the weather. The people ahead of us left, because many other coasters were still running despite the rain. The Great American Scream Machine was repeatedly moving on course sans passengers. After a few more minutes we left and headed towards the working rides.

We rode Batman the Ride and Nitro again, in the rain. There was a few minute delay as the rain picked up and some of the coasters were sent on test runs and some riders complained about the wait. It makes me wonder about the mental capacities of some of my fellow Americans. They care more about some thrilling ride without any regard to safety. Are these the people that could care less if the plane they boarded had loose bolts on the engine and the airline would want to sent the plane on a short flight around the airport so 200 people might not die half way to the next amusement park? Yikes. She probably hates seatbelts and airbags too.

Conclusion

We really didn’t need Flash Passes this day, as they did not seem very helpful. Besides the fact that it seemed as though Flash Passes do not allow users access to the first row of many of these awesome coasters, but double check that if you consider purchasing one as I may be wrong. Disney's version of the Flash Pass is free, so think about that. So if you plan on going to Six Flags this summer and don’t want to wait, consider how quickly Steve and I got on rides without this expensive extra. Wait for short lines on Dark Knight and have a little patience for everything else. Drink plenty of water and remember that the bathrooms are clean, so no worries there.

(Click on image for its source.)

Giant Potato Men, Giant Axes, Giant...Tides? - Everything in Canada is huge! - Entry Incomplete

2007-07-18T23:59:00.013-04:00

Penetrating Canada

After leaving Houlton, Maine (ME), a bordertown, we entered Canada via Interstate 95, where we were immediately stopped at the border and asked to pull over so my trunk could be rummaged through.

What set the Canadian border agents to examining the contents of my car, you may ask?

First: We did not know the exact length of our stay. It all depended upon how many things we could do and see each day, so I uncertainly said something like, "Three or four days." I havd several roadside attractions to see, as well as some tidal bores, and this would take time. So when entering Canada, or any foreign soil for that matter, give them a definite date, even if you don't stick to it. They'll feel confident in your confidence. I think that's all right...

Second: When referring to your relationships to the others you travel with, sound certain when explaining their status in your life, otherwise you may appear suspicious, like you want to steal some good ole health care (Medicare in Canada). The Danny Zuko/Sandy "Summer Nights" thing should probably be clearly stated or avoided in mentioning. I dunno which works.

Third: I only found this out half a year later when flying out of New York's John F. Kennedy airport, make sure your passport is signed. Neither the Canadian or American border agents mentioned my unsigned passport, and apparently the Phoenix Sky Harbor airport security agents didn't notice or didn't care. I had no idea I needed to sign it.

JFK security does not mess around though. They made sure I signed it right before their eyes. I don't recall if they asked for additional ID though. In my passport photo I have the shortest hair ever and no facial hair, and these days my hair is often long and messy, accompanied by a slightly lengthy goatee or beard.

Upon actually entering the country...

The highest speed limit was 110 km/hr (kilometers per hour), which is about 70 mph. I think most cars these days have both metric and standard on the dashboard, so this made it easy. Though this feature on the car still does not help determine how much time a specific distance takes to travel. Before leaving from Long Island, I'd gathered some figures and formulas on the internet.

Figures and formula:
1 mile = 1.6 km
1.00 USD = 1.04 CD (something like that at the time)
0.264 gallon = 1 liter / 3.8 gallon = 4 liters (this may be dry, not liquid measurements)
sales tax = 14% (Maritime Provinces, as opposed to 13% elsewhere)

Unfortunate for me during this trip, the dominance of the American dollar in Canada is presently over. Therefore there would be no great deals on merchandise. Additionally the high tax rate (which pays for many great social services, like Medicare) also made things expensive to purchase.
The price of gas wasn't as bad as people sometimes make out. At an average of $1.06 a liter, it cost a little under $4.00 a gallon, which isn't that ridiculous compared to what was being paid for a gallon in New York at the time. At least that extra money contributes to universal health care and such. An American can only dream...

Visitor Center?

Shortly after entry into the country, we spotted a sign for a visitor information center. One thing about Canada is that they let you know where to find tourist information with very obvious signs of giant question marks (which you'll see later). The visitor center is a very green building, in that it has a roof of grass, helping the building to blend into the natural env

The employees at the visitor center are very friendly and informative, having been to many of the tourist destinations themselves. Also available at many of these centers is free internet, so you can sit down for a spell and conduct some last minute research.

In Canada, the trash cans are known as "pop cans."

The World's Largest Ax (Paul Bunyan style)

The Giant Potato Man

The Giant Potato Man is located in Fredricton, New Brunswick (NB), a little over an hour from Houlton. Luckily the Canadian department of transportation, or whatever it's called up there decided to connect and construct TransCanada 2 just on the other side of the border, as if I-95 goes on until the end of the world, or at least the Atlantic coast.

The "little" Potato Man, who used to reside next to his bigger brother.

Metric. Those silly foreigners.

SEE Science Center: The LEGO Millyard Project - New Hampshire - Entry Under Construction

2007-07-17T23:59:00.006-04:00

Welcome to Manchester, New Hampshire.

A few things about New Hampshire. Well, at least one thing:
If you're over the age of 18, you need not wear your seat belt.
Why?
The State Motto:
Live Free or Die

Indeed.

SEE Science Center

Located in an unassuming brick building is the SEE Science Center, the building, a former textile factory.

The Lego Millyard Project

This has got to be one of the most amazing Lego creations I have ever seen.

Though Danish in origin, the Lego people just love America.

Watch your hands.

The market and beyond, a game of All-American baseball.

The pay-off in a dark alley.

High class shopping.

"Workers riot over factory conditions--Read all about it!"

"Get back here with my corn, you bum!"

Some labor history.

If only I had one this size when I was a kid...well, when I was younger.

Beantown: The Best Place to Get Crabs! - Incomeplete Entry

2007-07-17T02:17:00.003-04:00

The approach to New London, Connecticut is heralded by this lighthouse.

Entering Boston:

The Hood Milk Bottle

Pop-Eye's Dad to be sure.

Indeed, reading is sexy.

The South Street Diner:

Every major coastal city seems to have a Chinatown.

Serious about his interstate system.
Especially I-90.

Trade-friendly at a comix and zine show?
Nope. The Boston underground transport system.

Shenandoah Nationak Park - Entry Incomplete

2007-07-09T20:00:00.001-04:00

Skyline Caverns, Front Royal, Virginia - Entry Incomplete

2007-07-09T16:16:00.001-04:00

The Village - New York City

2007-06-25T02:59:00.002-04:00

Taking a lunch break from the MoCCA Art Fest, we went to eat some vegan Italian.
Let's just say I'd prefer to stick to traditional Italian, with all its rich goodness.

Two fuzzy-haired fiends drinking overpriced Italian water (no typo).
One must specify "tap" when ordering water all around.

Because one should always be very aware of the animal they're about to consume.
Especially if it comes wrapped in its own intestines.

Drink overpriced Italian water. It's good for your soul, but not your wallet.

Italian demons trapped in colored bottles dangle and clank over the entry.

Reflections.

Everything is for sale in New York City.
You just gotta find the right neighborhood sometimes.

Unfortunately hos ain't welcome in this neighborhood.

Anything is possible over the bridge into New York.
Even time can be landscaped here.

MoCCA Art Festival 2007 (Starbucks this ain't) & NYC Street Vendors - Entry Incomplete

2007-06-25T02:58:00.006-04:00

The 2007 MoCCA Art Festival was a smashing event. I had great fun this year over the course of two days. Last year I had I only attended the event on Sunday and had such a blast and bought and traded for so many great comics that I knew then I had to attend the festival both days this year. Armed with copies my comic/zine for trade, a mostly empty backpack, blank sketchbook, list of creators whose work I had liked from last year, and wad of cash, I was ready to go forth and spread my support and enthusiasm for great alternative, small press and self-published comics.

The MoCCA Art Festival has become so popular since its beginnings six years ago that the space allotted these small press creators and publishers has expanded beyond the three rooms on the main floor to include the skylight room on the seventh floor. Word was that the seventh floor was not getting as much traffic as the main floor due to a lack of knowledge of exhibitors in the spacious and bright skylight room, despite the many awesome creators eager for fans, shoppers, and fellow creators on floor seven. Several comics makers had asked if it was very crowded on the first floor, which it was, though there seemed to be a good amount of traffic on floor seven and some creators said they were doing very well.

***** and Abby Denson pushing their creations.

Top Shelf Comix with many A-List creators manning the booth.
Jeffrey Brown on the far right.

All sorts of readers attended this event. There are those who enjoy romance comics, autobiographical comics, humor comics, dark humor comics, political comics, sex comics, and so on. Reviews of comics in just about all these genres will be appearing on the ArmzRace blog over the next several weeks.

Squidfire makes some awesome T-Shirts.

Former MoCCA classmate Bill Roundy sells comics about himself and other subjects and topics, such as pirates. Also available at his table were free "Minion of Bill Roundy" stickers as well as business cards letting folks know that you are a member of the Bill Roundy Fan Club!

This year I decided to be more social and engage the creators whose works seemed most interesting looking. I brought a brand new sketchbook and decided this year to humbly ask for quick sketches and I was most often happily obliged by the show’s talent.

On our way to the book store to get a sketchbook when we happened across this street fair. Fresh lemonade for a dollar. I can't ever pass that up.

Meanwhile, at MoCCA Art Fest...

There were many great panels held just a block away at the museum itself. Surely the highlight had to be Jeffrey Brown’s reading of his Wolverine Fan-Fiction comic as the pages he drew were displayed on a flat screen monitor behind the comics creator. Mr. Brown wooed his audience with fantastic voice-overs during the reading and then happily answered questions about upcoming projects and if he had even heard from any of the women he’s dated who have appeared in his autobiographical comics, usually featuring his relationships. I look forward to his upcoming fully colored graphic novel, The Incredible Change-Bots, an homage and parody to one of the 80’s greatest toy lines, due out this July. Mr. Brown was so kind as to stick around and sign books and draw sketches of himself as he appears in his many books, such Every Girl Is The End Of The World For Me, as well as his very own parody superhero, Bighead.

Following the end of Saturday’s events, graphic novel publisher Top Shelf hosted their tenth anniversary party near midtown at Gstaad, with complimentary finger food (which quickly ran out), cake, and an open bar. The crowed inhabiting the establishment grew as the night went on, though my compatriots and I slipped out the door sometime around ten.

Joe Matt talks to fans.

The ArmzRace's very own Mark! and friends check out cool custom buttons.
Mark! looks happy he finally found that Impossible Man button he's always wanted.

What I blew my wad on:

Not shown:

Angstrom Sneak Preview by Ken Appelbaum
Children of the Owl and the Pussy-cat by Lear and Campos
Conflict (Megman) by Sapo
Dangerous Times Ashcan #2
Do Not Disturb My Waking Dream by Laura Park
Daughter by R.A.B.Bit
Freewheel Preview by Liz Baillie
Germ by Adam Bomb and Ray Decay
Tear-Stained Makeup #1, #5 by Marcos Perez
World War IX

I'm pretty sure I bought all these at this show. Now, if you're the creator and you're reading this and you know you were not at MoCCA Art Fest 2007, let m know.

Sketchbook Highlights

In the end, I spent a lot of money on a lot of loot and made several dozen trades and have already begun to excitedly read. Woohoo! (Because "woot" is for tools.)

Mark Twain! - Sunday 13 May 2007 - Entry not complete

2007-05-14T02:59:00.001-04:00

It's so hard to be a saint in the city - St. Louis, Missouri - ENTRY UNDER CONSTRUCTION

2007-05-13T01:48:00.001-04:00

Where have all the hookers gone? - Jerome, Arizona

2007-03-12T00:15:00.001-04:00

THIS ENTRY IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION

When in Jerome, visit the Haunted Hamburger and be sure to get your ten inch fill of chocolately goodness.

TEN INCHES of chocolately goodness and I ate my slice all on my own, icing and all.
Don't ever let someone tell you you can't do something, because then you'll have to prove the bastards wrong--Cool Hand Luke style.
(Photo by Kristin.)

Visit the House on Haunted Hill.

Photo by Kristin.

The Jerome Grand Hotel

Once a mental asylum, it is now a swanky hotel with a retauraunt called the Asylum.

Up a hill from the hotal is a collapsed building.

Downtown Jerome from the park. To the left is the alley where hookers roamed.

Kristin and I enjoy the swings
on a warm day.

Photo by Scott.

If Ghost Rider were real...
this might be his bike.

Many bikers enjoy Jerome.

HOUSE OF JOY

House of Joy: Contains so many cool things. They have original and facsimile ephemera and apparel from the 1920's an on.

One can find old matchbooks, hair jelly tins, postcards, photos, pins, buttons and so on, items from WWII, the USSR, communist China.
House of Joy also has vintage swiss army goggles in tins, sexy little outfits for your sexy little number. Masks, pasties, fishnets.

Sadly no photography is allowed inside.

Welcome to Valkenvania
presided over by Shire Reeve:
Judge Alvin Valkenheiser
The Old Mining Town

For a mere $4.00 admission price one can see the glory of yesteryear, of American capitolism and what it's left behind in the desert.

Phtoto by Kristin.

Old rusted trucks, cars and vans line roadways.

Photo by Kristin.

"Does it hurt?": Probably a turn of the century dentists' office.

Photo by Kristin.

Phtoto by Kristin.

Photo by Kristin.

Get out the way
Old Scott Tucker
You're too late
To get your supper!

Photo by Kristin.

Four teenagers
left for a concert...
None returned.

The donkey rings a bell, demanding to be fed. Scott looks at the creature increduously, as if telling it to go screw itself.

Photo by Kristin.

Guy Montag
races to the
secret library...
the hound follows.

Fighting fire
with fire
since 1981.

Photo by Kristin.

This looks like Forager's
head covering from
Jack Kirby's
New Gods.

Photo by Kristin.

You've made a grave
mistake coming here...

Photo by Kristin.

Here lies Ballin,
son of Fundin...

The family that
spelunks together...

Photo by Kristin.

Beware what creatures
lurk in the dark shadows
of old mines...

Photo by Kristin.

Looks like someone
robbed the bank...
of their floor!
Haw!

Photo by Kristin.

If you're not gonna be careful, we ain't gonna hire ya.

Photo by Kristin.

An old Shell truck.

Photo by Kristin.

Geeks Unite! - Phoenix Comicon - Sunday 28 January 2007

2007-01-28T23:59:00.001-05:00

Go Ghostbusters!

The Dark Knight returned! Spider-Man swung into town and Wolverine clawed his way through the crowds to be there too. Bounty hunter Spike Spiegel was puffin' on a cig and the crew from Naruto were ready to fight at a moment's notice.

The Phoenix Comicon, held at the Mesa Convention Center, just outside of Phoenix proper, is a fun event. It's small compared to most New York shows, but it was about what I expected for the area and it was pretty frickin' cool anyhow. I got in for free, so I can't complain. My friend, Tyrel from Sierra Vista, AKA "T," met me there. I spent all my spare cash on half off trades and graphic novels (Batman, UK Transformers, etc.) as well as Howard the Duck comics. I bought some HTD at Bookman's last week and they are really funny. Yes, the movie is something of an abomination in most people's eyes (though whatsherface is in it), but the comics that inspired the movie are nothing short of slapstick awesomeness. No number one though. Perhaps next time or on eBay.

As with any good comic show, there was a variety of vendors to satisfy most wants and even what some consider "needs." Atomic Comics (left) had pulled the van in with many current comics and trade paperbacks. There was a guy with half off trades (more, please). There were even more dealers with current, hot comics (Civil War galore), guys with dollar comics from the mid-seventies to today. I think there was even my usual favorite, a fifty-cent guy. There were a few Manga dealers as well as guys carrying tons of little and not so little import toys from Japan and the like. There were some toy dealers with some cool action figures.

I also got a free adult comic at Carnal Comics from the dollar box. I was stoked. I can't wait to read Modern Romans. It must be historical. They didn't have any Small Favors trades, which I remember is self-proclaimed "girly porn" on the cover blurb. It's a really funny book.

Deadpool (left) make a hit on some fat bounty head in the parking lot.

Who wants to be a superhero?
This guy!

Here's web in your face!

George Perez, Arthur Suydam, Mike Mignola (left), Brian Pulido and other popular comic creators were there. Steve Rude (Nexus) had been there sometime over the weekend.

There were many local creators, novelist Mike Stackpole (right) being one of them. He's written some great Star Wars: X-Wing novels about the liberation of Coruscant following the deaths of Vader and the Emperor. I spoke with him for a few minutes and plan on getting his book of short stories, poems and what not, sometime soon.

There is also this company that makes kick-ass sturdy lightsabers that you can actually fight with and that supposedly won't break. They don't make noise, but the fact that they light up as they do and hopefully won't break like the Hasbro ones is awesome. I am getting one when I have some money. I can't wait to fight in all sorts of environments, like the sand dunes, the snow, and Bespin carbon freeze chamber. I think I'll get a red one and a blue one. Maybe a green one too. There go two paychecks and then some.

"Bell peppers and beef? But there's no beef!"

- Spike Speigel on bell peppers
and beef.

I stopped at Bookman's in what I think was Mesa, possibly near ASU. It's a lot bigger than the one in Flag and it's got a whole bookshelf full of trades and graphic novels, as opposed to half a row on a shelf. They were about to close when I arrived, so I didn't have much time to look around. I bet their selection is sweet.

Another January Day at NAU - Flagstaff, Arizona

2007-01-20T23:34:00.001-05:00

The sun shines even on the coldest winter days.

Where once buds and leaves grew barren branches are left to weather the cold.

Buildings tease with their internal warmth.

Snow days

2007-01-09T10:57:00.001-05:00

On a cold January day in the mountains and forests...two adventurers make their way to Martann's for a Mexican breakfast that would shake the world at its foundations. Beyond the Misty Mountaintop of the San Francisco Peaks and through a freshly fallen shroud of snow...

The NAU campus lay before them...
On the far side lay their destination.

Mount Elden sat in the distance, vigilant, watching over travelers from distant parts.

Valerie Robin still gives a thumbs up to a warm cup of watery coffee, the opposite of the life giving scalding cafe she expected.

A man with an ax bars our path was we return to some warm apartment somewhere.

From Valerie's head sprout dozens of snakes and with an ice cold gaze she turns the man to stone.

We return home safely.

Meet me tonight in Atlantic City - Saturday, 30 December 2006

2006-12-31T02:59:00.003-05:00

The weather's moderate for late December.

The waves break and foam on the Jersey shore.

Broken shells wash ashore and pock the otherwise immaculate smoothness.

A relic from a day and age when Atlantic City was a proud seaside summer resort.

French-speaking children ran barefoot down the beach.

Their feet sank into the sand only enough
to leave these brief impressions
on time and space
their existence only proven
with photographic evidence.

The history of this footprint...

...Will vanish in the lapping of solitary wave
breaking onto the shore
soon carrying away all
but memory of what
once was.

In the end there will be only the ocean and the shore.

Another day in Sedona, accompanied by Valerie Robin.

2006-12-16T02:59:00.001-05:00

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Houston Comix and Zine Fest/Westheimer Block Party - A Culture Review

2006-11-08T02:52:00.003-05:00

THIS ENTRY IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION

The black highways lay before me in darkness seeking to lull me to sleep. I’d not rested properly in the previous days. A trip like this requires much preparation, mental and physical. I’d spent the week’s nights awake hours past midnight playing around online. Emails had to be answered, papers had to get done early or on time (but mostly did not), girls needed to talk with and met for lunch. Priorities. What do we do without them?

Chasing sunrise at 80 MPH.

Taken in or around vile Vega County, Texas, on I-40.

*****

The Houston Comix and Zine Fest
in conjunction with the
Westheimer Block Party

The pitiful crew of ArmzRace Comics.

Our tables; our comics.

I had decided upon the chocolate, which was given away fabulously. Nobody wanted to suck on Cej's old hard candy.

Our advertising budget was amazing. Cej wanted neon, but I said, "No, a piece of sheetrock from next to the dumpster will serve us just fine. Besides, we need to save money to go to Treasures."

The sign rests in my trunk for the next time I drove to Houston. Seriously.
(Note: When moving back to New York for the summer of 2007 I had to dump the "sign.")

Cej and John hard at work. Now Mark! will realize why he didn't get any money from this show.

Fellow comics creators making last minute preparations.
Far right, Meghann Rosales, creator of the excellent Jug Wine Comix .

Hoola Girl kept the crowds (at some point there were crowds) entertained.She could go at it for almost hours on end with all parts of her body.

Kid Poison (myspace) of the Western Nightmares comic.

Mark and Robert Bienvenu of Red City Comics hard at work on sketches.

For a mere fiver, Robert offered to sketch people as their favorite superhero. I choose Green Arrow (Ollie). This is the best five dollars I've ever spent.

Ismael Cavazos carves little wise men from peanuts and then carries them around on his homemade backpack, made cleverly from a minifridge door.

Call me Ismael.

The Westheimer Block Party was much smaller than expected and I wasn't sure how big the Houston Comix and Zine Fest was gonna be, but it was kind of small and could have used a lot more traffic, but Shane (myspace) Houston Comics (Houston Comics) did what he could to organize it and make it into a worthwhile event within the greater? Block Party. Sadly, it seems the rich, white folk who are gentrifying the area don't care for freaks, geeks, fags, hags, liberals, artists, musicians and other such ilk. The potential is there for greatness that I hear once existed, but times change and not always in good ways. Apparently if you ask a native about Montrose, they’ll tell you it’s the “gay” area. Which is not entirely untrue, but that’s such a generalization. There are also drug dealers and hookers that I saw prowling the street corners. I think I even saw one of the obese, transvestite hookers at the Block Party, standing by the bus stop. To each his or her own, and everything in-between or on the outside.

Cej is awesome and a great host. I think we learned a lot about what to do next time. This was the first show for both of us, and next time it will be better. And Mark! will be there, doing his carnival barking. He was missed. I also met the missing Beatle, John, who will get his comics done one day. Best to you, John!

The Armzrace didn't take in too much money, and we began to sell books at a dollar as opposed to our cover prices of $2.00 to $2.50. We tried to be the best salesmen we could be and that only worked so well.

We met a lot of awesome people from the area and some folks who came down from Austin, which is the more college town, artsy place. There were people like the wonderful Meghann (myspace) , who came from that capitol city, and some folks from Louisiana, like Robert (who I had sketch me as Green Arrow (Ollie Queen outfit) for a mere fiver) and former New Orleans rez, Brian, now living in the area. There was also Ismael, who carves faces and little men out of peanuts as well as employing himself in other artistic endeavors, such as flip books and comix. There was also Mark Nasso (myspace) who has created some cool monsters for his warrior looking comic, Land Rats, that is at the top of my read pile. There were other people indeed, but I am limited on time. Some folks showed up late and some left early, so we didn’t get to share much or trade. It’s a real shame. I would have liked to buy more, but I figured people would stay later. Cej, John and I would get busy and next time we looked across the lot, someone would be gone. We’d love to trade so get in touch!

Here is a picture of most of the comics I bought.

What we have here is:

Not shown:

Children of the Owl and the Pussy-cat by Lear and Campos ( I think I bought this here)

Complete Works of Nemo by Arturo Gonzales
It’s Da Homiez # 23
Secret of the Sages by Ismael Cavasos
I didn't hear anyone say 'Git her done' or 'Twahyce,' this weekend, except for me, while I was driving on no sleep.

In regard to the overall experience: I ate good food and um...well, what happens in Treasures....stays…in...Treasures, if not in your pants.

*****
Downtown Houston

Me, and my gracious hosts: Cej, JoAnn and evil looking, yet sweet, kitty.

*****
The Road to Congress...
Rushing back to Arizona to vote.

Without stops, it's a 19-hour drive back home. I am taking I-10 all the way to Phoenix and then I-17 back to Flag. It is supposed to take an extra hour this way, but I think it will take me out of Texas sooner, where speeders are punished under pain of death. That is a ‘nother story. I figure I can add an extra 8 miles per hour through New Mexico and Arizona, as I generally do. Texas cops are harsh fuckers. Even Texans say so. I figure it will take me about 24 hours to complete the journey. Piss ‘n’ gas stops and naps.

I drove through the darkness on the edge of town, hot heeling it back home. Eighteen hours sans stops and other delays.

Hours outside of Houston, before San Anto or much of anything else are heavy woods on both sides of I-10. At night in November, they made be mist enshrouded. I sped down the highway worrying after hoardes of Orcs that may pop out of the woodwork, assaulting my car with their axes and vile sneers.

Hours late, on the phone with Andi, to keep me awake, I passed over Woman Hollering Creek and howled like the devil himself was after me.

La frontera.

Truth or Consequences be damned!

Driving I-40 west out of Albuquerque at sunset is one of the worst things you can do. Three pairs of sun glasses did not help me see clearly as the sun seem to lay directly on the road, only a few miles off.

*****

It was a great weekend. I got to meet tons of new people, finally put a real face to Cej, and meet his awesome wife and numerous friendly friends.

I didn't make it back in time to vote. The polls close really early here, seven at night.

Be sure to wear flowers in your hair.

2006-08-13T02:59:00.001-04:00

THIS PAGE IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

Welcome to San Francisco

Amazing architecture in San Fran

Water pours from openings in the structure.

A street car. - 2. A vehicle adapted to the rails of a railroad. [U. S.] Note: In England a railroad passenger car is called a railway carriage; a freight car a goods wagon; a platform car a goods truck; a baggage car a van. But styles of car introduced into England from America are called cars; as, tram car. Pullman car. See Train. (Dictionary.com)

The Bay Bridge that would carry Tyrel and I from San Fransisco via I-80 the next morning.

Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill.

The Transamerica Building. We walked by its base that evening and met a crackhead dancing in the street, happy that she had some money to score a rock. I was worried at first, as she was hunched over, secreting something in her hands, excitedly asking if we wanted to see what she had, fortunately it was only some green bills and not a weapon or small body part.

I couldn't agree more.

San Fransisco, taken from the Tiburon Ferry

The golden gate locked in a perpetual mist.

Kayakers paddling in the waters.

Tiburon

We visited San Fransisco's smut district, I mean historical district.

Big Al won't take "no" for an answer.

There were lots of great neon signs. I'm glad we went to San Fran.

The Place to Beat Speed Records... Salt Flats, Utah

2006-08-12T02:20:00.001-04:00

Yellowstone

2006-08-09T02:59:00.001-04:00

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Lichen - Pronunciation Key - [lahy-kuhn] noun 1. any complex organism of the group Lichenes, composed of a fungus in symbiotic union with an alga and having a greenish, gray, yellow, brown, or blackish thallus that grows in leaflike, crustlike, or branching forms on rocks, trees, etc. 2. Pathology. any of various eruptive skin diseases. ?verb (used with object) 3. to cover with or as if with lichens. [Origin: 1595?1605; Gk leichn] (Dictionary.com)

A rather round formation.

A brave squirrel at Old Faithful that doesn't back away from humans quickly. Looks as though it is sharpening its teeth.

Steaming old faithful, a short time before its eruption.

Old Faithful erupts on scedule.

Badlands, you gotta live it every day!

2006-08-07T01:35:00.002-04:00

CONTENTS UNDER CONSTRUCTION

A lot of the time, there isn't much to see along I-90 in South Dakota.

The maze and the minotaur.

A project of the Civilian Conservation Corps.

We would start to see signs for Wall Drug and Reptile Gardens as soon as we entered South Dakota. "Come see Maniac, the Crocodile," urged the signs. See him we would.

A carved out wooden eagle in a facsimile old west town.

This old codger gave me a real hard time about paying to get in. Needless to say, he didn't get a penny from me.

*****

Like the Boss man says, you gotta live it every day.

The entrance to Badlands National Park in South Dakota. I didn't even realize we'd be coming near Badlands till we got there. Somehow my stellar planning missed a major stopping point.

As I was driving, I was desperately trying to find the Bruce Springsteen CD with "Badlands" on it. I went through at least half a dozen CDs, forgetting that the only version of the song I had was a medley with "Summertime Blues" and did not get to hear the song until much later.

The lands is constantly being reshaped by wind and water erosion.

The earthen material is very brittle, crunching easily underfoot; ethereal: disappearing almost as if it doesn't really exist in the fantastic shapes we see.

A deer at nature's beck and call.

*****

Wall Drug, Wall, South Dakota

The "showgirl" I got at Wall Drug, in the town of Wall, South Dakota. She was a real hardbody. For hundreds of miles, Tyrel and I saw signs for this place called Wall Drug. Many of the signs were really clever and got my interest piqued early on so that I had to go and see what it was about.

She was really stiff at first, but after a few drinks she...loosened up.

A real T-Rex fossil skull. - ty·ran·no·saur (t-rn-sôr, t-) Pronunciation Key Audio pronunciation of "Tyrannosaurus" [P] also ty·ran·no·saur·us (t-rn-sôrs, t-) n. A very large carnivorous dinosaur of the Upper Cretaceous Period of North America, characterized by small forelimbs and a large head. [New Latin Tyrannosaurus, genus name : Greek turannos, tyrant + Greek sauros, lizard.] (Dictionary.com)

No one can harm Pope Bearly Withit IV in his bulletproof bearmobile.

Yeeehaw! Giant jackalope!

Salty Summer in the City - Sunday 2006 July 30

2006-07-31T02:59:00.001-04:00

Lego Empire State Building - Times Square ToysRus.

Lego Statue of Liberty - Times Square ToysRus.

Tyrel in front of the Lego Chrysler Building in Times Square.

Me, next to the Lego Chrysler Building.

At least he's honest. Maybe he should run for office.

Central Park.

Tyrel at Belvedere Castle (Wildlife Obervatory) in Central Park.

Cleopatra's Needle in Central Park. An authentic Egyptian obelisk that was transported to America in the 1880s.

Tyrel and the needle.

Tyrel in front of the NYC Public Library.

View from atop the Empire State Building. I believe that is the Jersey side.

Southern tip of Manhattan (the Village, Wall Street, etc.).

The Queens side?

The West Side, in the distance, New Jersey and the Palisades.

The tower atop the Empire State Building. It still smells like Kong up there.

Horus from Enki Bilal's film, Immortal.

The Chrysler Building, which was erected concurrently with the Empire State Building and at the time, was a close second to being the World's Tallest Building. In the distance, Queens to the immediate right and to the north (far background to the left) the Bronx.

Rat poison sign in the subway.

Subway riders always look down the tunnel expectantly, as if that will make the train come any sooner.

Picture taken from the South Street Sea Port (Pier 17).

In the distance, New Jersey.

Southern Manhattan as the sun sets, from the Brooklyn Bridge.

Looking to the north.
The Empire State Buildng in the Distance.

The Watchtower and the rest of Brooklyn near the bridge landing.
Just below, hundreds of cars per minute rumble the bridge.

The Manhattan Bridge's connection to the island that gives the bridge its name.

Over 100 years of history, this bridge to another world.

Brooklyn Bridge Park down yonder.

The sun sets on New York City. Folks rest as the day cools into evening.
Taken from Brooklyn Bridge Park.

A couple enjoy the view from the edge.

Sol ceases its relentless deluge of heat and light on the city that never sleeps.

The Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan from atop one of the Watchtower buildings.

Looking south over Brooklyn to the Verazarro Narrows Bridge and past that, Staten Island and the Jersey Shore.

Liberty Island and the once proud lady that stands atop her.

Five years too late: What a view they must have from those buildings.

Cars and the subway use this connector to get back and forth between Manhattan and Brooklyn.

Swings from webs like a spider can ...

The crescent in the sky.

Seven-thirty and still eighty-six degrees.

A view of Brooklyn.

Seven-thirty and still thirty degrees.

The city illuminates as twilight lays its blanket on New York.

Activity hardly ceases for the city's circulatory system.

The Bronx is a Zoo

2006-07-10T02:37:00.001-04:00

MoCCA Art Festival 2006

2006-06-15T11:53:00.029-04:00

Welcome, my readers, to the MoCCA Art Festival

This past weekend I attended the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art (MoCCA) Art Festival. I had a great time chatting with creators and spending lots of money on comics, zines, and some original artwork. I could have easily spent several hundred dollars, but I only brought about one-hundred dollars with me, so I had to be selective.

Had I known how much aural and visual bacchanalia there was to take in, I would have gone both days. There were three large rooms filled with so much talent, books, stickers, pins, patches, posters, prints and other great things. I managed to establish myself as a minion of Bill Roundy almost immediately (an honor bestowed not just on anyone). Next year I will be more prepared.

In attendance were many indie greats and many up and comers: Evan Dorkin, Andy MacDonald, Dean Haspiel, Jim Salicrup, Abby Denson, Ivan Brandon, Fly, the infamous Bill Roundy, and many more.

Mark! had given me a preview copy of MK Reed's Catfight, saying the art isn't great, but the writing is terrific, so I had to hunt down Reed and her book.

Some reviews of the wares I bought will be forthcoming, but in the meantime, photos!

Comics!

Wrong Turns: Exercise: What's the Point? - Godfrey C han
Dumb Jersey White Boy 1, 2, 3 - Mark McMurray
Hideous - Pat Lewis
Catfight - MK Reed
Flummery - Jeff Sharp
A Taste of Paradise - Megan Baehr
Vintage Flummery - Jeff Sharp
I Love You - Justin Fox
Cliff Face Comics Business Card - Cliff Face Co mics
The Amazing Adventures of Mister Brotherwise - Lauryn
Caesar I & II - Jeff Sharp
Mort & Jimithy - Phil Conigliaro
The Most Horrible Thing in the World - Dylan Graham
Burning Bush - Memo Salazar

Abominable - Pat Lewis
My Brain Hurts 1, 2, 3 - Liz Baillie
The Dada Detective - Matt Wood, David Milloway, & Stephanie Freese

Not pictured

Candy Corn Pants
The Devil's T Table - Eric K Siano
Good-Bye - Justin Fox

There are probably a few more, but my piles of comics have g otten all mixed up, so I can no longer accurately sort out the piles into when I bought stuff. There are comics that I disliked that have long since been passed on, and as I did not care for them, their names are long gone.

The Prints and Pauper

I have a whole story revolving around searching the show during the last hours for Jeff Sharp's table, because I had seen these "Protect Your Eyes" prints earlier, but could not remember who made them or where on the show floor this guy was located. With only three rooms, I could find him easily. Right...?

My memory had been that these prints had been huge, like poster size, and I went around asking other exhibitors if they recalled seeing them. Describing a print with some interesting looking guy wearing protective goggles, no one knew what I was talking about.

On my way to meet Mark! as the show was closing, I walked right by an end cap table and noticed some really cook stippled art prints of women. I flipped through Erik K Siano's portfolio noticing a great print that reminded me of Natalie Portman in Leon, and bought the thing. Looking at the rest of the table I then saw the "Protect Your Eyes" print and explained to Siano and Sharp how I'd been looking for this table for over an hour.

For the Next Show

My advice to you: Save your money. Be prepared. If you have your own comics, bring them to sell or trade. Many self-publishing exhibitors are "trade friendly," sometimes indicated by a button with a big "T" on it. Go both days. It will be worth it. Whether you're a fan or a creator trying to break in or promote yourself, this is a great avenue into the indie world work of comics and related arts.

This is a 16 October 2008 retroactive revision of my original post on the ArmzRace blog.

It's that time of year: Lake George Yard Sale! - Friday, September 30, 2005

2005-09-30T12:35:00.001-04:00

For nearly two days I lived, slept and died in my small Hyundai. I’d rushed from Longmont to Long Island in less than two days. Fast food, fast driving, fast sleep if any. A month without my immediate family, my friends, and my heart, wherever that was. Who can be sure.
I could have survived without my immediate family for longer. A month. It was nothing. My friends were missed, some of who kept me company via cell phone during long hours in the car. In fact I may have had to had I known what I would come to know. I came back for her and for the yard sale. The situation with her was…uncertain. The yard sale was this weekend and that was certain.

Year after year, we’d gone with few exceptions. Me. Mom. Dad. My sister. My brother-in-law. My cousin. My friend. Some combination of this listing of people had gone for nearly a decade with few exceptions. September 11, 2001 did not prevent our going some weeks later. Live life as normal. Fuck the fear. Spend money. Enjoy capitalism, materialism, orgasm. Aftermath.

Lake George means more than any of those. I have no intentions of spending much money since I am recently returned and without gainful employment. I go to spend time with my family and friends, whoever makes the journey. Lake George usually means Best Western. It means cold nights when Long Islanders are used to humid days followed by still humid nights. It means the lake sparkling under light of the sun and then moon. A continuous luminous cycle. Lake George means waking up before the sun rises. I love it.

The yard sale is actually in the satellite town of Warrensburg, but to us, it’s all simply called Lake George. This weekend in the small Adirondack town means food vendors baking, cooking, sautéing, frying and deep-frying things like pizza, funnel cake, sausage and peppers, popcorn, candy, cookies, hot dogs and hamburgers, homemade lemonade, roasted in the husk ears of corn with a cup of melted butter, corn dogs, French fries, blooming onions (heartburn included), ice cream, and whatever new surprises may come with each new year. It means porta-potties with no toilet paper. Every year, this weekend on the lake means going out to eat at night. Same place as last year (service and food were great last year!), or someplace new (give it a shot!)? These weekends mean threats from Irritable Bowel Syndrome, so watch what you eat!

Lake George in early October means the crisp smell of cold when the sun is still revolving back into the hemisphere. It means the smells of fall and the colors of leaves losing their fill of chlorophyll. Green to yellow. Yellow to brown and then they all fall down. Weeks later, in Lake George, you might hear the crunching of those once lush leaves below your feet, but in early October they exist to please the eye in colors of yellow, red, and orange. This weekend means foot soldiering around town in search of treasures hidden on backstreets. Lake George means walky-talkies bellowing strange sounds and snippets of others’ static-filled conversations. It means pranks and anonymous fake threats carried on radio waves, threats that will never be birthed into existence. They’ll never hurt us, but they’ll make us laugh. This weekend means thriving crowds from out of town. Throngs of people before these crowded streets. It means haggling. It means dirty hands after sorting through other people’s junk. It means finding cheap parking in a good spot, central to the festivities. No one wants to drag pounds and pounds of the good stuff through several miles of the horde to get to the car parked in someone’s muddy front yard, for five dollars. Lake George means a four or five hour drive with my father behind the wheel. It means my mother yelling at my father to slow down or back off someone’s ass. I love it.

Lake George means the arcade where Mom rocks the pinball machines without tilting, playing on fifty cents for a good twenty minutes, much longer than my two coins last. Then we shoot invisible beams of light from rifles chained to the counter. I hit the spittoon and the man plays a ditty on the old timey piano. He never lets me down, year after year. Dad rolls the ball into the slot, hoping to make a Full House and get maximum points represented by paper tickets. What kind of prize can we get this year? One hundred tickets for a bouncing ball that we could have got for fifty cents from a vending machine? It was all worth it. Mother and son, side-by-side, picking off furry varmints and snarling desperados. Father and son playing poker. Mother smoking, walking next to father on the sidewalk behind me. On the lake means the wax museum, and the haunted house. Two-for-One pricing!

The yard sale crowds mean trouble for the ambulance trying to get to someone who must have found that nick-knack they’d been hunting for decades, overwhelmed that they’ve found their holy grail. He turned the water into wine. Weekends on the lake mean somebody might get to the good stuff before you do. Fuck you—It’s mine! Lake George means blankets, tables, tents, tarps and barns. Neon stickers, tags on string, markered up masking tape telling us how much. Negotiate. Bargain. Haggle. Araby. I love it.

Crowds and crowds mean people of varying looks. Check her out; she’s got huge boobs. There’s the guy with the voice box, here every year. Were I a kid, I’d be scared. Lake George means the cell phone rings at least ten times and dad asks you where you are at all of those ten times. If you’re not near a street sign, you tell of some landmark that you forget about all year, but once you get into town, it all comes back to you. I love it all.

Lake George means if you’re a melancholy teen and you sit in one spot long enough, strangers who are your peers may come up to you, you who is sitting there in your headphones waiting for your parents and trying not to look alone. These strangers will ask you if you’re okay. After you tell them yes, but don’t necessarily mean it, you want to go with them when they leave. You have so few friends and fewer good ones and maybe that cute girl with them will make out with you. You’re young enough to be satisfied with that and not desire much more, the way you will in the years to come. You watch them go off and are satisfied that someone, who is maybe like you, has shown concern. They cared enough and it got to me. Hit me in the heart and I loved humanity those minutes after, until my parents came around and I was soon digging through a box of G.I. Joe action figures and hoping they’d have their corresponding weapons.
I love those kids, now adults, somewhere in the world, maybe still there, waiting to invite me for a night on the town, as small as it is. Are they still alive, dead, perhaps joined the Army, or Marines and went to Iraq? Did they go to college and move to the city? Albany, Boston, or New York? Did she get pregnant at eighteen or nineteen and go to work at the grocery store that bears no name that anyone outside of the upstate region would recognize? I hope for only the best for them. I love them.

I’ve been returned for a mere week and I’m off again, but not alone. Not alone. My parents and I are heading up to Lake George, New York in a few hours. World's largest yard sale and all that, every first weekend in October. Miles of wares. Miles to go before we sleep.

Mother snipes some terrorists in Silent Scope.

Son, a better shot, gets more headshots than mom.

*****

The world outside of lower New York can be found lacking. Exotic New York foods such as bagels and pizza do not truly exist outside of New York. There are rare pockets in the outside world beyond the intangible walls of civilized New York where these delicacies occasionally form themselves from up out of the earth. Before we leave I'm going to get some bagels, because I've been without them for a month. Real bagels made with New York water. I think that is really the key to many of our fine foods. Pizza and bagels. Bagels and pizza. Thoughts of them bring me to the verge of gastrointestinal orgasm. It's the water that goes into the dough and makes them good. I've only eaten pizza twice since returning, so I must have more of it. Umberto's and then Giuseppe’s with their sweet sauce. A good sauce helps too. Francesco's is next, a family favorite for over thirty years. Mountain Mike's Pizza in Cali is dreadful. I fear Mountain Mike had his balls cleaved off, or perhaps caught in a meat grinder, because he takes no chances with his food. No flavor. None. I might as well go to Sunday mass and eat the wafers coated in flavorless cheese. Is "mass" supposed to be capitalized? I'm agnostic now, so I don't care in the sense that I could go to Hell should that exist, but for grammar's sake I want to get it right.

I just watched Layer Cake (L4YER CAKE on the box). It's a British crime film. The director was supposed to direct X-Men 3: The Last Stand, but "did not want to uproot his family to film in Canada." I think he would have done an excellent job.

I must away now.

The Hero's Return - Monday 2005 September 26

2005-09-26T11:33:00.000-04:00

I'm letting everyone know that I returned Sunday night at eleven. Going through 30 days of mail is harrowing. There are too many bills and other solicitations for money. I have none.

That's all folks!

The Long Road Home - Sunday, September 25, 2005

2005-09-26T02:59:00.000-04:00

Text to come soon!

Let's get this show on the road.

2005-09-24T01:17:00.000-04:00

I plan on getting on the road tomorrow morning at around six am. Sans stops and work zones, the trip should take about twenty-eight hours via I-80. When I get to Mifflinville, Pennsylvania, I'll have traveled almost all of the continent spanning roadway. However I decide to break up the time is how long it will take me. Mr. Owl, how many days will it take Paul to get home? Let's find out. . . 1, 2, 3, CRUNCH! The world will never know. Not until I get home anyway. It'll be like a big surprise. Big, because I put on about twenty-eight pounds. Not really. That would be kind of funny just to shock everyone.

Anyway, it's almost midnight, and I'd love to get at least six hours sleep before heading out through the cornfields of Nebraska. I wish the midwest was still forested, as I believe it was over 200 years ago, before the days of Ira Hayes. Trees are much more pretty than the nothingness of endless maize. I should leave at four, just do I don't have to look at corn.