Most of the day was spent on a tedious activities. Processing returns from some distros. I really should’ve spent $100 10 years ago to get a system setup by someone who knew what they were doing so my paperwork would be easy. But instead I’m re-inventing the wheel. Anyway, both returns I was working on were supposed to be account closing returns, but both ending up owning me about $100 more in stock. Hopefully they’ll settle up with me, fingers crossed on that one!
I got an email from Jeremy Johnson & he’s re-drawing a few panels for Ultimate Lost Kisses #12. Hopefully it will be out in time for SPACE (March 19 in Columbus, Ohio).
Speaking of SPACE, this weekend is when I’m supposed to get in the artwork for working on this year’s anthology (I’m the editor). I’ll let you know when it’s up.
In other comic news, I talked to my son Andrew today (mainly because I wanted to know the physical dimensions of his lap steel for potentially mounting it inside of my Roland Jazz Chorus as a drone thing) & he’s working on a potential mini-comic for Silber.
Also, here’s a video version of Star…
Last Night’s Dreams:
They’ve been classifying everyone in the nation & reorganizing the citizens. So like-minded people of similar abilities all live in each city. This way everyone thinks that what they work on is the best thing to work on & there’s no classicism visible. But I think they are really grouping us together for a genocide.
There’s a series of psych-rock recordings that Tommy Chong was involved with recorded direct to wax in the basement of a Sears when he worked there & they are still there. I’m trying to find the mall to find the recordings.
Patrick Kain is working as a gardener in Georgia. He says it conveys what he’s trying to say more than he could with comics.
I’m at a rock show & I’m drunk & there’s a ghost harassing me in the bathroom. I don’t want to look like a crazy person, so I tell the ghost we should take it outside. When we go outside he’s invisible & I’m drunk, so he clearly has the edge, but I manage to grab hold of one of his arms & bite a finger off of his hand & he starts crying like a bitch until he completely melts away.
I’m going to Taco Bell for lunch & the drive-thru line is long so I park my car & go inside. When I come out my car is gone. I go into a DMV that is in the same little strip mall associated with the Taco Bell & I’m trying to figure out how to call the cops & remember my license plate number & when I say why I’m there it’s clear that the girl behind the counter (who I recognize as a girl from Baltimore I met in Charlotte in 1997) is somehow involved with my car being stolen. I confront her & she says she’ll get it back & when I go outside with her this guy shows up with a pink Ford Focus saying it’s my car & I’m thinking about killing the girl over the insulting accusation & she’s saying, “Look, I can’t get your car back, this is the best I can do!” Her arm is turning blue from loosing circulation & the ring around her bicep where I’m clenching my hand that’s holding her is turning black. It starts to rain. Wherever this place is, I fucking hate it.