briefing -5-

posted 2009.06.04 at 23:58

New render to fill blank space - a lot of blank space. Looks pretty spiffy, I think.

Back in the day, this was the first page after I quit smoking. I stayed quit for about a little over a year (or a little under a year, I forget), then relapsed. As of this writing, I'm still relapsed. One of these days I'll quit again - the first time around it was because I couldn't afford it (and because I was starting to have breathing problems) and this time around it'll probably be money-related as well. The fact is that Life As I Know It is so totally wrapped around the act that quitting would cause me more psychological problems than it would resolve.

Given how difficult it's been to stay focused on slogging through the second edition, I'm clinging to anything - anything - that can keep me on task. I'll detox when it's out the door.

On the upside, the new version of the page is a milestone of a different sort - a huge HEAPING PILE OF BACKSTORY including a partial (and mildly accurate) synopsis of Dead City Radio.

So for those of you wondering what'll eventually happen with that, there's your Cliff's Notes of the Cliff's Notes. Names could have been dropped, but the fact that West and Greg were there (and that West knew about Thad) is all that really matters to this particular conversation. No need to talk about Whitehouse or Emily or Jesse. Or Curtis.

While there are technically seven "chosen," Lang has no reason to put his own signature in the database, and a lot of reasons not to. Hence, six.

First Edition Metadata

20070729 : Rewritten. Previous page here.

Edited 20050428 : I quite honestly cannot explain to you in words what it was like to get back on the stick after I quit smoking. Every single element of the creative process was a trigger - pencil, smoke. Ink, smoke. Scan, smoke. Flat colors, smoke. Basica assembly and lettering, smoke. Finish a panel, smoke. Finish the page, smoke.

Might be why this one turned out the way it did originally. I hated it from the get-go but my usually clam chowder cranial cavity was filled with a sloshingly good mix of helium and water, so articulation of the hows of it wasn't really on the menu. Though I tried, obviously. One of the lamer pages coupled to one of my lamer "essays." :P

Eight months later, I'm still quit and I can still smell the flowers.

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Original image:

Lame shit, isn't it? I didn't, technically speaking, need the heads - dialogue effects handled everything but you weren't going to get that into my head at the time. No sir!

Original post text:

Rag on the low panel count all you like- fact is I'm recyling the background less and consequently giving you a better look at a few parts of it. This page is only possible at all due to the volume of work I did for the leadup to page 100. I'm having Problems focusing, etceteras. I'm getting Better, but it's an uphill battle. Especially when it comes to ATC.

I'd like to say I've Quit Smoking. Truth is I haven't. Truth is I'm Not Smoking. I'll have Quit Smoking when I can crank out pages like I have in the past.

Uphill.

I've been spitting dead celia for the last two and a half days and I'm happy I've made it this far, frankly. Should have seen me try to work on this on Monday.

52 hours since my last cigarette, 61 hours since withdrawal symptoms started to crawl into my awareness. Roughly 72 hours since I made The Decision. I've been coping by chewing copiously on an undeserving papermate pen and reliving the eighties and select points of my life that did not involve smoking. It's been an emotional rollercoaster- as much the coping methods and triggers as the memories and experiences.

Realized Will Allison is 30. A bit shocked, but he's at least working in industry. Pervert Club had more influence on me than I can describe politely. He started in '97, so he was on the racks at Comics Castle when I was seventeen. Eight years ago.

The real news of the day is much more pedestrian.

To wit:

I can smell the flowers.

Yeah. Sounds like a little thing, doesn't it?

It's been SIX YEARS since I've smelled the flowers. Literally on all counts.

It was worse yesterday.

It'll be better tomorrow.