wha qua

so yeah who knows it's like i am riding the fence between this and that and sure you're thinking oh look at this fella he's just mincing words and trying to keep himself and everyone else from the truth that basically everyone else knows already, except that's not quite it and asides it's nice to kind of throw a vague thing out there and see what you get back it's like psychic echolocation but actually kind of more self-absorbed than i feel comfortable with. like tacking on a disclaimer to everything you do just so that when shit hits the fan later you can kind of sit on your haunches and pull the 'hey i warned you i was bad news' flag out from under your shirt, a cheap move sure but given the circumstances and situation it's kind of difficult to run the whole righteousness thing where you're supposedly wiser or more urbane or witty or whatever kind of wealth of knowledge is the most fashionable at the moment. oh i am so over this

portland zine symplosionum/ INK CARTRIDGE FUNERAL

or whatever.

sold all the stuff i had so i am making new stuff for tomorrow, you know, press the flesh and spread the word and get my hot shit all over the place
you know painting the town brown
ALSO
ink cartridge funeral is right there with me and i'm taking it upon myself as some guy with the broken website to kind of take in all the readers that were totally pumped on the first issue and or their x-ray specs. uh in short [ink cartridge funeral -> here].

for updates or whatever.

but yeah if you'll know if you stopped by the table because we are SNAKE OIL SALESMEN. you will own our zines before you even open them and that's not because we are looking for a quick buck (although we kind of are or at least i am) but it is because we love you. we love you, and we know you are nervous about trying to quantify our creative endeavors into a monetary amount. we make this process as painless as possible. to the man we actually hussled: we love you, too.

yes sir here i am reporting for duty and this was a totally safe psa

HUA HOU HUA HOU HOOEUUU

the legend that precedes the person- knowing before knowing, really- "jamais vu". How would one be met, and how would said subject subject themselves to the inevitable- them- in a conversation?
to wit:

"Hello, I am a big follower of yours."


ranging from the simple (trite?) "thank you" to the total abstract- the fact that no reply could be ideal means any reply will suffice- "does that mean you'll come to my hotel room?", "fuck off", "i hope your mother approves", words, any and all. the full spectrum, even the colors invisible to the human eye. silence can even work, carried by a long, cool gaze.
Again:

"Hello, I am a big follower of yours."

"Thank you." (let's keep it simple)

So then what? Me- by which i mean you- know this person. you have witnessed what they can do, pored over interviews of them "baring it all", teeth included, and yet- jamais vu- you are talking to a stranger. which should be discouraging, or humbling, rather (preferably) but actually isn't, because you like this person. you want to know more about this person. you have not yet had the (dubious) honor of watching their mannerisms, their affectations (face it- both of you know you aren't in this just to ask the time) and so you plow forward, attempting to till that well-trod path of adoration and admiration with the seeds of wit (watch your parlance, they may be flattered but they ain't no fool) hoping that an ineffable (as in f--- this, f--- that immune) connection flowers between the two of you.
it might happen. "we are not so unlike each other, you and i" is what you think, feel. express.
but the barrier remains, they in one camp, you in another, not even existing before, but before was before you said hello.
more specifically, hello, this is me, and i like you, i follow your work, i follow you. can this be construed as a glancing blow from the hand that must be held? you follower, you.

BUT I LOVE WHAT THEY DO
you declare, hands up in that look-i-know-it-might-be-lame-but-i'm-being-honest-and-isn't-that-a-lot-like-being-passionate-and-true,-in-this-context? sort of way.

be that as it may, fawning is fawning. curry favor with curry flavor, as in they are human, so are you, and that fact is actually the Great Leveller that makes us all equal. let's present ourselves, gift ourselves, in our best bow and ribbon display. tada! data. people like to say 'no, no mirrors please, no smoke, it makes me cough, just give me you, plain old you, as you are. this is what i want to see.' which is well-intentioned but really. it's just what you think you want to see. you want to see smoke and mirrors- and what's the difference? because how we project ourselves is an extension of- or not even that, it actually is- who we are.

so in short when they see you and you see them you use your mirror and you reflect their thoughts- you are not so unlike each other- and peer into them, into their routine (it's been there all along, it's just that it's all you've ever seen- you've been duped) and know them as your brother or sister, and all that implies (infers?).

the Golden Rule has many ancillary applications- it's not all about kindness, you fucks- it's all about where you place yourself and where you place others, which need not be reflected in each other- the mirror is, after all, a metaphor- so when you practice it (or better yet, utilize it) don't make the rookie mistake of thinking that by denying this vagrant his greedy gulps of tobacco (he calls it charity) that you're entitling him reprisal. The hands that holds (remember?) the Golden Rule can deliver a glancing blow. so when that asshole with the hot wife that looks slightly boozy and slightly crazier cracks you a fat one in the face for gawping a moment too long, don't feel slighted. that's kismet. through this slight, we see the sleight of hand. from the hand that is held, to the hand that holds, to the hand that holds the sway in all things you do- yes, you- jamais vu. we see ourselves performing one action- kissing our loved ones before they leave for work- and think the world unfair when we drive into a tree four years later, and never making the connection all the while. this specific sleight of hand takes years for the reveal, and the flourish is that there is no flourish at all- so elegant and precise, that particular strain of music- it is immediately hidden beneath the blaring horns and tinny wails of our ware-hawking humanity. if you find the measure (use the Golden Rule) you will hear the clarion call.

so when you approach the person of your admiration, or are approached by an admirer, do not mire in that difficult and desolate terrain of compliments and erudite attitude- this is stating 'i follow your work', this is stating 'my hand needs to be held', this is stating 'i am hawking my wares', this is actually stating nothing. If you speak, you will be spoken to. attune yourself- we all have an affinity to some tune- and speak in that timbre.

so okay

SO YEAH i decided yesterday to sit my ass down and find a photo of the occasion. incident. event? whatever. i'm the fella in the grey sweatshirt (hoodie? hoody?). apparently i am telling some entertaining story to my friend and the guy i was tabled with. sorry guy. you are not my friend. yet! he made a comic about vegans and it sold well. i made a comic about nothing and it sold terribly. well, i don't know. what are good sales for this sort of thing? so ANYHOWZERS i took this photo off of some other dudes' website (see if you can find them in the photo!) and this pretty much is all the evidence i have for even being there.

uh my website is still broken raw deal i am so over the internet

OCF

so now it's twelve forty and my real cool website done broke on me so i guess this is what i'll have to use until i fix it. which will be months from now, i'm sure.
uh yeah so i am going to the OCF and i am going to try to trick some people into buying my stuff maybe i will even make enough money for a sixer now wouldn't that be something.