Did you feel that?

Sunday's earthquake was definitely the biggest one I've ever felt. I was reading at the time, when my book and the bed I happened to be lying upon shook for a good 10-15 seconds.

Funny, earthquakes. It never occurs to you to be nervous until after it's over.

Carey was in our elevator during it, which isn't such a great spot to be during an earthquake. You miss the action if it's only a light one and you'll likely wind up dead or handicapped if it's a heavy one.

Better luck next time, Care.

---

Talked to Erin today, and she's doing relatively okay. Morning sickness is a killer, but she's doing her best to make an uncle outta me.

She thinks it's a boy. Not sure about any names yet, but I've tried my best to convince her to go with "Piccata". It just kind of has a certain, ring, doesn't it? She said maybe, but it sounds a little feminine.

"Piccato"?

---

That pre-teen was not my lover;
He's just a churl who says that
I am the one,
But they had no smoking gun.
Hoo!

Yeah, needs polishing.

Good for Michael Jackson, I guess. In the eyes of the public, though, he's a guilty man. I used to stand by the King of Pop through thick and thin, but I've had it with his antics.

I wonder what it must be like to be such an easy target for comedy. I'm tempted to wax hillarious, but I'll leave it to the pros instead (to poop on).

And not that I'm questioning the jury, but how did that porn turn up with kids' fingerprints all over it?

---

Speaking of porn, I've been giving the matter some thought lately, and I have to confess I'm completely baffled by the legalities of the whole sex-as-entertainmnent issue. Is it just me, or is something really screwed up there?

Q: If I want to pay a woman for sexual favors, is that legal?

A: No chance, buddy!

Q: What if I write up a contract, getting her full consent?

A: Sorry. Nope.

Q: What if I set up a video camera and tape the whole thing?

A: Not in this country, chum! Shame!

Q: What if I take that tape, duplicate it, and sell thousands of copies?

A: Bing! Welcome to legitimacy, friend, you're living the American Dream!

---

An enormous thank'ee to Jon Floyd Schweitzer for pointing out the following to me:

Jeaoure: I typed "Get behind me satan" into images.google.com, trying to get the album art for the new White Stripes album. Check out the top right image in the search results. http://images.google.com/images?q=%22get%20behind%20me%20satan%22 Well played, sir. Schwyzen

If I ever begin to have doubts that this silly website has contributed anything significant to society, I will henceforth remind myself that, thanks to my sweat-n-elbow-grease, anyone typing "Get behind me, Satan" into an image search will find the visage of Paige Davis staring horribly back at them.

I count it all joy.

No, Schwyzen, thank you.

---

Comics! My thoughts, my dreams, my every insecurity! I backstroke through the muck and the mire of COMICS!

For no good reason, I felt like coming up with a list. After all, you came here to have your time wasted and I'm here to serve.

That said...

Enormously Oversized Graphic Novels that Look Good on My Bookshelf

Cages (496 pgs.)
Dave McKean

The strange, rhythmic story of an artist and his surroundings by the prodigious writer/artist/director Dave McKean. Using painting, line drawing and photography, this book blurs the line between illustration and fine art sensibilities. Every time I read it, I feel I understand it a bit less. McKean is a gift to humanity and the world is a darker, more interesting place to have him in it. Beautiful, beautiful book. And heavy.
...

Palomar (522 pgs.)
Gilbert Hernandez

Finishing Palomar was a quest I admittedly didn't enjoy all that much, but seeing it through became a point of pride for me. It's a big book that makes your forearms hurt when you read it in the bathroom, but I kept reading nonetheless. And, really, I'm glad I did. A few intriguing moments can be found in this crazy, generations-spanning tale of a fictional Latin American town... if you look hard for them. An experience I'm glad I had, but one I doubt I'd recommend.
...

Locas (704 pgs.)
Jaime Hernandez

I don't know, it certainly has its flaws, but I like Locas. If nothing else, it's a treat to watch Jaime Hernandez compose these simple, graceful pages. Dude has a line that guys like me would kill for. Stories in the book are hit-or-miss, but fascinating if you're able to latch onto the rhythm of the thing. It's balsy, urban, latina fire. That's good comics, right?
...

Blankets (590 pgs.)
Craig Thompson

I can't hide my affection for Blankets or Craig Thompson, so I won't try. It's not often you come across a story that manages to awe and inspire... and simultaneously tell you who you are. There are bits of me lurking deep down that I thought I'd despise, but I learned I kind of like and I think I have Blankets to thank. "Recommended" is an understatement. I look forward to reading it again.
...

Bone (1342 pgs.)
Jeff Smith

By sheer girth alone, this book is the granddaddy of oversized graphic novels. It's much more than a story or a character-arc or even an adventure... it's a comic book lifetime. Jeff Smith created one of comicdom's most consistently played and loveable cast of characters I can think of and he managed to keep me smiling all the while. It's just a REALLY BIG, FAT BOOK. "Tome," really. I think it's safe to call this thing a "tome". If nothing else, I'm sure it's good for flattening leaf collections or stunning burglars. Me, I'd rather read it.
...

From Hell (572 pgs.)
Alan Moore & Eddie Campbell

Next to Jimmy Corrigan, From Hell is the likely the most astutely-crafted comic I've ever read. Conceptually, artistically, thematically and dramatically flawless, this thing. I like having From Hell on my bookshelf. In fact, I like doing artwork in my office partly because I get to occassionally look up to discover From Hell sitting there. Sure it's pathetic, but every time I see that book, I'm reminded that I once read something truly great. Something that made me a little bit smarter.
...

The Frank Book (344 pgs.)
Jim Woodring

Page count nearly knocked this thing out of the running, but I'll forgive it, due to the fact that it's such a beautiful piece of literature and, holding it with one hand, it really does seem to be a fairly hefty volume. It's the closest thing I think I've ever experienced to a truly "surrealist" comic. Man, it's so friggin' weird, but I'm involved. Forget those other poseurs, Woodring has fashioned his own reality with his own rules here. No easy feat.
...

American Elf (496 pgs.)
James Kochalka

Look, don't get all hung up over this, all right? James Kochalka keeps a comicip diary of EVERY SINGLE DAY OF HIS LIFE and publishes it annually. Four panels a day, bip-bip-bip-bip. This book collects the first four years' worth. An individual comic isn't all that impressive. A month's worth, and maybe you'll get the odd bit of inspiration or snicker. But as a whole? The experience of comic-izing the minutiae of every day of your life is nothing short of sublime. I don't know what this fat, square comic book is, but I think it's the cat's pajamas.

Man, you know why I sat down in front of this computer in the first place? To write an email to a freelance colleague, telling them I'm too busy at the moment to take on additional work.

Real good, Jer!

To bed!