days of comics, nights of loathing

I hate this guy across from me. He's got a big dollop of silly putty which he keeps in a precious little tupperware. He just keeps it in his bag so that he can pull it out on the train for some on-the-go thumb squats or digital cardio or quirky-conversation-piece stress relief. What an asshole. Holding it up near his face and squashing in his fist like he's in second grade, saying "This is YOU!" What are you? A finger-ninja? I hope he gets arthritis.

Infinite Crisis #2? The jam.

Adrian Tomine and Seth were at the Strand tonight doing an authors in conversation thing. They talked about craft, the medium and the difficulties of producing graphic novels. I thought it was completely intriguing. A couple of my favorite authors discussing the same problems I often struggle with. It made me feel really good. Afterwards, I overheard some other guy bitching about it being boring and kind of thought he was a douche.

I feel like I am getting sick so I ate a clove of garlic. Now I smell like my social life.