Windy City is my favorite convention. It's small scaled and artist focused, run by Chris and Sal, the swell fellas of Around Comics. But I'm not really a convention guy. I seldom enjoy drawing on demand, and usually just tolerate the shows, not enjoying myself until the gatherings afterward. Saturday I woke up in a lousy mood and was an hour late for the show. I started to lose my voice right before speaking on an inking comics panel, and really lost it at the thumping disco at the after party...the entire day I felt like heading home. But then, miraculously, sitting at a lively, friendly neighborhood bar just a few short blocks away, I woke up. I had a great time talking with fellow cartoonists, sketching, and drinking good beer served with pretzels and good mustard. You gotta love Chicago, and you gotta make Windy City next year. I know I will.
Sharing a quiet moment with Mike Norton amidst the post-con disco din at John Barleycorn. Photo by Rachelle Rosenberg.
Spent Sunday at Union Pier in Michigan with friends. Something about this shot makes me look like a midget next to the apparently gigantic Ling Wang. Ah, perspective. Not much sun to be had at the beach. Note the albino like pallor of my legs.
Now that Hollywood has taken over San Diego's Gaslamp district during Comicon, I thought some of you would enjoy this trip through the area's seedier, Grindhouse Row era--which was probably a hell of a lot more fun.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose girl." The priest asks, "Is that you, little Joey Pagano?" "Yes, Father, it is." "And who was the girl you were with?" "I can't tell you, Father . I don't want to ruin her reputation." "Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as well tell me now. was it Tina Minetti?" "I cannot say." "Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?" "I'll never tell." "Was it Nina Cappelli?" "I'm sorry, but I cannot name her." "Was it Cathy Piriano?" "My lips are sealed." "Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?" "Please, Father, I cannot tell you." The priest sighs in frustration. "You're very tight lipped, and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for four months. Now you go and behave yourself."
Joey walks back to his pew, and his friend, Franco, slides over and whispers to him. "What'd you get?" "Four months vacation and five good leads."
HEY! This is where I'll let you know what I'm working on, what comic conventions I'm attending, as well as make note of other events and unrelated stuff that interests me.
Limerwrecks is my other blog. It features an original limerick of the day. Not the traditional "man from Nantucket" variety, but a potpourri of limericks about film, comics, and just about anything else that crosses my feeble mind. You can read them all here