Real life for me has always been averaged out not by living a bland life, but by extremes.  My lows are painfully low, and my highs are painfully high.  The last couple months has been one of the unusually eventful periods, and it came right on the heels of a large chunk of routine, which has been good for my life experience and bad for my productivity.  Luckily I have been getting more ideas for things than I have in a long while, and I actually had the damn fool sense to record much of it down in a notebook, so at least I’ll have something to feed off during those lean imagination periods.

As of this posting I am on a little needed but much accepted vacation in Las Vegas.  If the hedonism goes as planned, I will have died of alcohol poisoning already and this will be a posthumous blog post.  If this has failed to take place I can only turn my back on my prudishness in revulsion.  If I don’t die, I will return back to San Francisco and instantly have to start looking for a new apartment.  I have moved in with my friend Rick, a fellow cartoonist.  The brain trust I had predicted hasn’t been formed yet due to cramped living quarters, but at least we have succeeded in bringing out the substance abusers in one another.  And my parents said I wasn’t capable of anything…

I have yet to ink anything for my graphic novel, and the presentation date is quickly approaching.  Luckily, I’ve come up with a fitting title for my tale of young love.  So, dear reader, keep your peepers peeled for “Boobs on a Calculator.”  Trust me, it fits in.  And if I get disgusted by my immaturity I’ll change it to something pretentious like “Punctuated Equilibrium.”  My art, like my life, averages out by extremes.

I’ve been wondering whether or not I should actually think of myself as an artist.  I don’t yet feel like I have the chops to do so, especially in a place like San Francisco where even the janitors have had pieces published in literary journals.  But as time goes on I feel more like an artist and less like a person who could live a realistic life.  And I came across a quote by someone I forget recently that advised me to “define yourself before others get a chance to do so.”  Or something like that.  But it helped me remain true to my guiding principles of chaos, and for that I am indebted to you, nameless dead armchair philosopher.

Holler if you hear me.

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