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Hey, it’s been a while since I posted, but I was reading another WordPress blog and I saw the little logo for this one and I thought…why not?


I guess writing this blog is one of those old-new things.

As you can see above, that’s one my more recent purchases I’ve wanted for the past decade or two, I always loved Snowjob so getting a whole vintage set of Arctic Joes always tempted me.

I went through a whole period where I felt way too much guilt about how much time I spent looking at toys, how much money I spent buying toys, and the same goes with comics, video games, movies, etc…

…but I realized (again sorta) recently that doing those things is the source of at least 2/3 of my happiness and inspiration.

When I worked a regular job (gross) I’d think about how many hours I’d need to work to buy something I really wanted and it made some shifts a lot easier.

When I’m sitting looking at toys and their marketing materials and such it fills me with a lot of the same joy and excitement I had as a kid, the excitement that made me want to be a better artist and one day, a cartoonist.

I think people who start filling their lives with too much guilt over these things really start to have their creativity, drive and inspiration decay slowly into the nothingness that is “I used to be really into that stuff but y’know, you get busy, life happens…yeah.”

I’ve heard that from so many people over the years and every time it just makes me shudder. How did you take a kid who would pause his VHS so he could have a still version to copy down in his notebook of Optimus Prime who grew up reading How to Draw Comics the Marvel Way until the pages were brittle, yellow and dog-eared…and turn him into this shell that just kind of…died inside? That whenever they talk about stuff they like it’s all guilty pleasure, don’t tell the wife, and other horrid phrases?


Don’t grow up…it’s a trap.


I’ve been fighting against being in this headspace as I too speedily approach 30 (gross) and it’s been working. Instead of forcing myself to pick up a pencil, I can’t help but pick one up and start jotting down ideas and doodles and layouts.

The hardest part of your day shouldn’t be getting out of bed. When you’ve got Devastator behind the bed, Hulk Hogan beside the bed and some Real American Heroes across from the bed…you’ve got a whole team ready to pull you back into the world…whether that world accepts that or not.


That’s all folks!


i have a quick story to start this one off…

tonight i saw that my trunk was open, we all forget to lock the car or accidentally hit the trunk button every once in a while, look outside at the trunk and go and close it at 3 in the morning.

it’s scary right?

that is always when the killers get you in movies, but i am not a damsel in distress, i am a grown man, but when i went out there, i felt like a scared little boy holding tightly onto his cape, that was my bravery…not ready to jump into action, but praying i didn’t have to even though i know i would.

it made me think about comics.

you see…i love comics, i always have, you probably do too, you get that tingle in the back of your head, that rush of adrenaline when you watch iron man or the dark knight and think of yourself in the suit, or with the cape, armor, sword and shield, ready for battle, flying high, indestructible.

but…we all forget so easily…

the heroes we read about are one in a million, in a billion, for a reason. they go out without the open trunk, without the car alarm, they look for the scary homeless man who stumbles out from behind the car and runs at you, red eyes, smelling of alcohol and urine, probably not even knowing his plan…

does he plan to rob you? rape you? kill you? attack you? knock you out and run inside your home? what is this crazy man’s plan that you have put yourself in jeopardy for?

but heroes…spider-man…superman…batman…even the tick. they run into these kinds of situation, they go into the dark alleys, they look around the city late at night waiting for crime to jump at them so it doesn’t jump at the lady who is late getting home from work, speeding home hoping that something bad doesn’t happen to her on the way, making it even worse when it actually does so she can feel stupid…like it’s all her fault.

that is amazing to me.

bravery is amazing to me, it makes me have a whole new appreciation for comics, even the superhero bullshit i have personally spoken badly of many times in the past, mostly because it belittles the bravery and the amazement these heroes once possessed, something i wish to bring back to popular culture, to modern day society’s attention…

the super part about being a super hero is just being a hero period, you can wear rubber gloves and a dollar store mask but if you go and take that risk so that someone else can be safe, you save that kid from being beaten up, that woman from being raped, that man from being robbed…you have made the difference, it is even more impressive in the fact that you stopped the criminal as well besides just accepting someone else’s fate, someone else’s fear…

…my girlfriend told me a story about 20 high school kids, teenagers, watching a girl get raped and then putting pictures of it on facebook, the homecoming queen…not one brave soul among them perhaps maybe the queen herself if she is still alive today, breathing after such an event…maybe the world needs super heroes.

maybe the world needs someone brave to wander around looking for afterparties that don’t go so well for one person, to stop the laughter, to stop the peer pressure, to stop the lifelong regret…

all it takes is one to start the revolution…2012 doesn’t need to be the end of the world but the end of the world as we know it, it can be the start of a new one, a better one…

every day people read superman, and people forget what that means. reading superman instills a silent set of ideals inside you, it makes you stupid enough in times of desperation to subconsciously think you wear the cape…and that’s something beautiful if you ask me…i want my kids to grow up wearing the invisible cape and beyond that…their friends, their peers and even their elders, to wear that cape…a world waiting for superman is a world where he isn’t needed…if everyone is looking for a wrong to right, then everyone is right…

i don’t know where it all comes from. i guess you just hear a word so much it loses meaning, it looks nice on a blog and you forget how important it is. you forget they give medals for it, medals to the dead for it. i think i am going to start trying to give everything the deeper analysis it deserves.

all we can do is try and that…
…is more than enough.

when i really think of it, i have very few indulgences in my life.

my love, comics, friends, junk food, the internet…wrestling games.

as my love continues to grow more wonderful every day, my comics seem to torment me with their wonderful linework and storylines, they whisper to me that i’ll never create anything near as good, if anything at all, my friends become fewer and fewer and sometimes it seems i am so comfortable with some i could go on much longer without seeing them since i know nothing will change in between, junk food makes me feel bad about paying too much for such little nourishment that’ll really just make me a fat loser ten years from now, maybe five and the internet has become this ultimate distraction from everything important even though it has such strong connections to positive uses of my time, my wrestling game seems like a good time killer.

it’s funny, i worry so much about wasted time and seek inspiration and artistic progress but when i play my wrestling game, i am content, i can play it every second until i have to work, see reanne or see one of my best friends and be fine with it. it just is time wasted on purpose and somehow when you do it on purpose as opposed to accidentally it gives off a much different feeling.

it’s a too bad that one of my favourite parts of the day, reading the new dick tracy installment, has been ruined to the point where i see too many words and bland art and just skip it, after years of loyal daily checks and refreshing my browser window around 2am just to see it as early as possible it’s become a daily reminder of the downfalls of the profession i wish to enter.

living doesn’t feel like living or even existing anymore, it feels like dragging my feet until i get to jump for these tiny moments of joy in comparison to the big picture…then…dragging my feet again.

i am thankful for those moments though, i think all the bad parts could never outweigh the euphoric state when i am reading a great novel of the graphic nature or holding her in my arms. laughing at old jokes far too hard with friends i’ve known for far too long to the point where it’s the same conversations repeated all the time between gossip. living isn’t great, but it’s still somehow worthwhile.

3:16am on march 24th, 2010.

this is the night where you started out tired and are going way too late putting pencil to paper and you look down and there it is, that page you never thought you’d make that is even better than what’s been in your head since you decided to pursue this pipe dream, this is the night that you say, “wow, i really did it, i can do this and do it again and continue until i am where i want to be, i am going to be where i want to be.”

it’s a funny feeling.

it’s not accomplished or proud or sad or nervous, it’s a feeling that you shouldn’t be somewhere but you are anyways. that party you somehow end up at but there’s a pretty girl standing there smiling at you as you wander to find your place, if they bust the door down this second and ask how you got in their house it’s too late, you’ve already touched bliss.

this is the feeling, the look, the thing that i have been looking for, it’s been longer than i can think of but now i am just going to lay back and enjoy. the moment you seem to base every other thought around that comes into your head and you hit it and it feels just right and you cruise along not caring where it takes you.

it can take me to a seafaring adventure with pirates and living skeletons or it can take me to the main event of a wrestling pay-per-view for the world championship, wherever it might take me, i welcome whatever comes ahead.

this is it.

i love you.

but is love enough?

if it’s not then this little thing called life isn’t worth it, because life is the little thing, everything else is the big stuff, the important stuff, love, art, passion, lust, broken-hearted and bleeding to cloud 9 with a text in this day-in-age. it’s the way now.

i love you, whoever you might be for whatever reason i might love you and whatever amount i might do it and if i love you then breathing is worth it, because i am just a piece. imagine this…

imagine a dot, among 6 billion dots, and that’s you, and you stay to yourself and they whiz around in a blur for so many years until they make dots and their dot disappears, that’s life the way most people live it.

imagine a dot, it has a line connect to another, and another, and those dots connect too, making their own impact, a delicate tapestry, a life lived in layers of changes made for yourself, but mostly others, that is a thing of beauty, not a blur then a death but a lasting effect, encounters that change your life, the lives of others and through that the world, directing someone to the right aisle, making an old lady smile, giving your girlfriend a gift and watching her face explode with a beautiful shade of red as if she can’t contain how happy you’ve made her…

that’s that stuff, and the stuff is why i’m here, i am going to love you like no one else ever will or can love you and i am going to be more than a dot so when i disappear from this tapestry a hole is left, and eyes will get glassy, there will be glimmers of light from my small effect on this dark world.

that’s all i hope to do with this life.

blood suckers.

they’re everywhere.

you’ll be up and they’ll bring you down, crashing hard to the floor.

you’ll be down and they’ll be four steps ahead, digging a ditch, because you’re never low enough for them.

all you want is someone to reach out to you and pick you up at the right time, and no one ever has that timing, those that do when nothing is wrong have suddenly become another reason to feel that way.

they suck all the energy from you, all the hopes and dreams…then they eat what’s left…vampires and vultures.

“…in your love, my salvation lies…in your love.”

that’s from orange sky by alexi murdoch, a truly moving song, i’ve listened to it somewhere around 400 times, probably a bit more.

it’s true.

love is overwhelming, it swallows me whole, more than in my girlfriend or in my passion to one day create comics, it is in everything i do, everything i see and want to see, want to do, i know that my heart will hurt before long, i know that my heart will beat fast with anticipation soon as well, i know that it will heal with a word, just as easily as it broke in the first place, i know it is fragile, it should be, try breaking something and putting it back together over and over, my heart is more scotch tape than flesh and blood. my arteries pump through sticky clear plastic.

my salvation lies in a promising present and an uncertain but hopeful future, it is lies in plans i will one day finally get around to, it lies in comments i won’t get but hope to, jobs i want to do but don’t and even if i did…it lies…


…in your love.

and i’ve done all i can, to stand on her steps with my heart in my hands, now i’m starting to see, maybe it’s got nothing to do with me…

a beautiful excerpt from john mayer’s “daughters” haunts me, it leaves me in that cold anxious state where you feel like you’re sweating buckets but no perspiration comes.

it’s a feeling of worthlessness, worse than the usual one, that failure in the one aspect you put all your effort into, i have a few of those, i fail in every one it seems, makes me fear finding new things…they just seem like new opportunities to fail…in reality…they probably are.

i’m in a hole, with a ladder, and every step i take it breaks a little more, it’s worse than just being in a hole, i can accept being somewhere without an escape, it’s just the constant tease of something better on the other side, i fluxuate up and down a bit, but it’s mostly up so i can go down a little deeper, leave a bigger hole in the sand by climbing a little higher before falling.

i really like the song i can’t make you love me covered by tank, it is a strong phrase in a strongly wrote classic, it represents everything in my life, family, art, friends, people who aren’t friends and ofcourse…love.

my life feels wasted, i don’t know if i could have done it better, but sometimes…often actually…my best just isn’t good enough.

i spend my time trying to be the best, beyond the best that i can be and just the best that can be, when i really think about it, if it was the best i could be i would know where to aim, somewhere along the lines of a robert sikoryak that has classically styled heroines saying mildly witty dialogue among inappropriate humour filled with references to modern canadian culture.

i search for the best in those not considered the best, the early work of jack kirby (with joe simon), the less popular versions of super hero comic strips, things with cult followings over those that remain in pop culture. it’s a strange place to look for the best, but i have my own sets of beliefs, ones of how things should look and could look and how those could be carried into great from the mediocre.

i know that people love the work of classically trained painters that do comic books, they adore the colours and lighting, the details, but i believe there is a way that comics should look and it’s not always the obvious best, when people imagine superman in their heads they don’t imagine the original from 1939 or the fancy alex ross version, they imagine him by someone in between and probably forgotten, someone in a 20+ year period between the 60s and the 80s who they probably can’t name, they saw him on a comic they bought for 25 cents or got from their parents or uncles. that is how superman really looks.

the same goes for batman, iron man, spider-man, you probably know them from a simple cartoon version you saw as a child, maybe a teenager, not fancily shaded or maybe even shaded at all, we live in a world where archie is in every store yet batman continues to adopt new styles all the time…no one seems to take the hint…

…i will though, between fancy modern day marvel art and comfortable classic dc art i will find home, and it will be…the best.

i hate my life many days, i hate my art many days, i hate the idea of even being an artist many days, it’s tough.

i just want to live my life and be happy and everything around me makes it so hard, it’s already hard enough living inside my own head without pessimistic fantasy becoming reality.

it’s another fight, another mistake, another apology and another stylistic path i should have never taken. maybe that is what i should really be doing because i don’t care about anything else long enough.

maybe what i should be doing is just whatever the fuck i want like when i used to just doodle and upload it and people like it and hope that one day i’d be something.

i am constantly living out the same mistakes on repeat, i need to have a realization that this realization i am waiting for for so long just isn’t coming.

life vs. art…should stop here…i’ll live how i feel i should, draw how i feel i should draw and if it does in fact all come to an end tomorrow, i did my thing, whatever i might have felt that was at the time.

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