Cast No Shadow
There is no theme here.Subjects can be important and real or utter nonsense. Mostly I'll be the one spouting off, but look for occasional guest editorials and visuals from comic writers, artists, novelists, friends and acquaintances. At least that's the idea. This space is for thought. Or not.
Alone With Everybody
01.22.20012000 was the flower of the flock. Perhaps the best year of my life thus far. Allow me to look back for a moment or ten. My travel list includes London, Texas, Oklahoma, Las Vegas, California, Chicago, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Buenos Aires and a few points in between. 2000 was twelve months of a thousand highs and one staggering low. Not a bad average, but who's counting.
PART ONE: JANUARY TO JULY
"Turn my castles blue, turn my bones to sand...."
-S. Jenkins
London
At the very beginning I travelled to London for New Year's celebrations. I've lived in New York City for four years, but when the big millennium hits, I'm nowhere near Times Square! If you'd have told me that five years before, I'd call you clinical. New Year's was wonderful. My then girlfriend and I, along with a gaggle of her friends, rushed to the River Thames at around 11:30 and found a perfect spot just in time. At midnight, the river exploded with lights and fire. Photographs, Red Bull, champaign and drunk bastards made it the scene I'd hoped for. Near perfection, really. After recovering for a day or two, we ventured out to pubs in the country that were older than dirt and found the ruins at St. Aubins, the most ancient structures I've ever seen. It might as well be mythology to my Texas (nothing older than a century) eyes. I'd hoped to see more, but with all the New Year's celebrations, many historical buildings and monuments had been blocked off from public viewing. The Tower of London looked to promise a creepy tour, but was watered down due to all the happy tourists fluttering about. So much history, I'd need forever to see it all. Unfortunately, forever was not available. With a romantic challenge abound, the trip turned a bit sour near the end. In the coming months, this journey would haunt me. As wonderful as I found England, I wasn't sure I'd be back again any time soon.
"I hope the tears don't stain the world that waits outside...."
-N. Gallagher
London again and Bristol
Yeah whatever, so I sucked it up and went back. It was nearly four months later and I had committed myself to attending Comics 2000 in Bristol and didn't want to break my word. I also felt it would provide me with a bit of closure. The week I spent in London and the weekend in Bristol provided fine distraction from the idea of being in England again. It certainly helped that I was in a completely different part of London than the trip before. And Bristol seemed more like an old friend to me. Special thanks to Dez Skinn for putting up with me, taking me to pubs near and far and letting me crash his pad. Thanks also to Kev Sutherland for having me at the Comics 2000 convention. I attended the same show a year earlier and was glad to be back for more. A special treat was seeing Dave Gibbons, John Higgins, John and Rachael Mcrea and countless others again. And what Gibbons told me I found true: If he were an American, he'd be a Texan. The first thing out of his mouth to me, "First round's on you."
Texas
And speaking of my lone star home state, I spent the month of May there. I've explored this trip enough in the last CNS. See Sneaky Pete and the Land of Lost Porcupines
"Sorry that you turned to driftwood, but you've been drifting for a long, long time..."
- F. Healy
Coleman, Oklahoma
In early June I travelled for what was my second 10-year high school reunion in one month. I moved to the modest town of Coleman, Oklahoma, when I was sixteen. I went from a class in Texas of about 200 to a class of 24. That's right, 24. In schools so small everyone knows everyone. Two tricky sides to this coin. On the positive side, it was like having a big family where everyone was friendly and ready to lend a helping hand, but the flipside was that there were no secrets. Everyone knew what trouble you were getting into. Again, it's almost like a family. It just depends on which side the coin lands. Arriving in Dallas, my pal, Russ, picked me up in his dirty as Hell Bronco (with authentic white-trash deluxe removable top) and we started off on our trip up North to what is one of my favorite places on Earth, Coleman, Oklahoma.
I had few reservations about going back again. I'd stayed in contact with few of my classmates, but knew we'd be the same bunch of misfits as soon as we congregated again. What I wasn't expecting, but hoping for just the same, was to see non-classmates, who I'd become friends with. One by one, they appeared. I even came across W.C. Daniels, my high school principal (pictured below with me. I'm wearing the silly hat). W.C. was one of the people who made high school easier to deal with in my more troubled teen years. Later that night I hooked up with a few of our closer friends, Kyle, Jay and the idiot savant/Coleman philosopher I refer to as "D-John." Don't ask. We cruised to the nearby town of Durant, drank some cheap spirits and ran into other Coleman refugees. You can't shake a stick without hitting one, if that's your idea of a good time.
The next day we all met out at Lake Texoma. Everyone brought their families except Russ and I, who are the ONLY bachelors remaining. A lonely, yet liberating feeling. I found that the reunion wasn't a completely special event to most attending, as they often see one another around town (many still live in Coleman). The dads of the group were swimming with the kids, the mothers were busy making sure the kids weren't drowning and I..... Well, Russ and I just drank beer and watched in disbelief. Most looked the same as I'd remembered, but it was an odd scene to see all the people you remember as teenagers, without a clue, suddenly appear as mothers and fathers. They're grown ups. Surreal.
Once the lake party wrapped up, we all decided to meet up at a club on the lake that evening. We had a few hours to kill. Hmm... What to do? "Hey, let's go to every stinking dive bar in Oklahoma!" That's just what we did. Russ, D-John, Kyle and I barged into every piece of shit hole-in-the-wall we came upon. Bars we'd never considered going near in our earlier days were now there for us to conquer. Getting smashed was the task of the day and we had clocked in. Bar after bar, beer after beer, shot after shot, we finally made it to the party at the lake.
It was a dance club on the lakefront. We drank, danced and howled louder than whatever country pop crap that was blaring out over the enormous speakers. Once the club closed up for the night, most of us headed out to a deserted piece of lake where only 4-wheel drive trucks and mental patients could get to. We built a bonfire and a few other friends on the lake brought their boats ashore to join us.
Although I was enjoying myself, I couldn't help but feel a little melancholy about the whole ordeal. I had gone to school with these people for only two years, but they were two intense years of growing up for me. I had been through so much in such a short time. I found good friends in my classmates. Some were like family to me. I hadn't seen many in a decade and I suppose I couldn't help but feel it may be just as long before I would see them again. Would I see them again? Staring into the bonfire, my head was in the past and the future. And as it happens all too often, I find myself thinking about everything but the here and now.
"Loaded and ready, calmly holding steady....."
-M. Sweet
Las Vegas
For the July Fourth holiday, my friends and I couldn't think of anywhere more patriotic and representational of our beloved country than the capital of gambling, sex, drinking and Elvis. Yes, it was Las Vegas all the way. I first flew to meet up with my buddy, Kyle, in LA. From there we decided to road trip. What's more surreal than cruising, windows down, through the long desert road to Las Vegas? I'd never seen a desert before. I wanted to stop every two miles and just take it all in. However, four hours of driving in the desert heat took its toll on my enthusiasm, as we hooked up with more friends in Vegas, Kyle and I were spent and low on energy. We pulled ourselves together, though and spent the next two days doing the requisite amount of damage. We owed it to ourselves, Uncle Sam and the girls at the Hard Rock Hotel pool. I must say though, as much as I love Vegas, getting there was more than half the fun.
"Stay strong, move on, keep on....."
-R. Ashcroft
California
I was going to San Diego in July to be a guest at the annual comic convention and had been contemplating moving to Los Angeles or thereabouts later in the year, so I thought this would make a good scouting mission. I decided to go out two weeks early and stay a week or two after. I spent a great deal of time at Wildstorm in La Jolla prior to the convention. As always, they know how to treat a guest. I spent several days hanging in their studio, listening to Richard Ashcroft's ALONE WITH EVERYBODY in my headset and staring out the window at dusk on the coastal waters. It was easy to wonder off with my own thoughts. What a dream. An absolute dream. Big thanks to Jim Lee, John Nee and Scott Dunbier for making me feel at home and of course, Mr. John Layman and his fiancé, Kim for giving me a home and feeding me the best tacos in the world!
I travelled up to and around LA for a long weekend before the convention began to meet up with John Lucas, Ben Raab and old friend, Kyle Clabaugh. We were making a weekend out of the whole X-MEN movie thing. I was more than eager to see it and luckily it turned out to be a good flick. Lucas and I then travelled over to another part of LA to see the infamous Hart "most dangerous man in comics" Fisher for a couple of days. We had both done work for Hart early on and liked him well enough to let him take us out to see the bondage-clad femme fatales out on the prowl in LA. The clubs were full of costumed maniacs pretending to live the life they wore. Sounds like a comic con, doesn't it? We had the curious time I expected from Hart. He directs porn these days, but still has a soft spot for comics (no pun intended). So watch out, I don't think Boneyard Press is dead just yet.
Returning to San Diego, the convention went as well as always. The best thing about these conventions has to be spending time with friends you really only see once or twice a year, as well as new friends you'll be seeing in the upcoming years. It's a social zoo. Just make sure you take aspirin and drink plenty of water before you go to sleep. Otherwise, the next day everyone talks too loud, the California sun shines too brightly and the little plastic army men in your head won't stop shooting their rifles! I blame Zena, Ben, Lucas, Palmiotti, Tom and the guys from Midtown Comics (thanks for Tijuana!).
The folks at the DC/WS booth worked hard to keep things moving and did the usual great job of making us all comfortable among the chaos. Special thanks to Patty Jeres and Bob Wayne. Fans, as always, were splendid to talk to. I especially liked it when some stood in line, only to tell me they don't have a book for me to sign, but simply wanted to shake my hand and tell me how much they enjoyed my work. A great compliment. Even with little sleep and a heavy head ("Could somebody please turn down the volume on the slide projector!?"), the panels were fun and the Catfish at Dick's Last Resort was as good and greasy as ever.
I can't wait to go back and do it all over again. California was a beautiful trip.
- John
Next: Chicago, Hong Kong, Tokyo and Buenos Aires. Then home.
W.C. and Cowboy John |
Somewhere between LA and Las Vegas |
With friends in San Diego: John, Ben, Lucas. |
With friends in San Diego: John, Zena. |
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