January 13, 2004

   Well, it's that time of the week again, where I have to tear myself away from my deadlines and countless emails offering mail order viagra. Thanks, people, really, but I'll pass on it...for now, anyway. I really should be inking as I type this, but I promised to roll out the truckful of blog every Tuesday. I hatehatehate it when a weekly column runs late, so I try not to be guilty of that myself.

   Thinking of changing my News/Q&A section to News/Links section. I've gotten lots of questions (such as "You aint right in the head, are ya, boy?", but nothing that merits posting. I usually just respond back privately.

   *Another contest hint to win that Sojourn Statue: My first published letter appeared in an Avengers-related title the year all Marvels had "Marvel's 25th Anniversary" plastered on the cover. Come on, I can't narrow it down much more than that.

   Oddly enough, that same year, I had sold the entire comics collection I'd had since I was a child. I had almost 3,000. I was 20, headstrong if not well-thought-out. I had moved out of my parents house. On my own the first time, ill-prepared for the financial hardships, and of course too prideful to listen to my parents (what do they know, right?) I was in a destructive relationship at the time, with someone whom I routinely let tear me down. For some people, tearing down others downplays their own failings. During this, one of the blackest periods of my life, I sold my comics because they reminded me too much of my shattered hopes of fulfilling my dreams in the comics industry. A fool's dream. I figured, sell the comics and do grown up things like get a job I hated and cry in my beer about how life's unfair at a dive bar while listening to Bruce Springteen songs about other losers.

   I had completed the distasteful task of segregating my comics into $10.00, $5.00, $3.00, $1.00 and quarter bins for the local flea market. What was odd was how the collector mentality was already ingrained in small kids back then. I had some great Silver Age Marvels, DCs, etc. priced to move. All the X-men comics sold quickly, as if devoured by locusts. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles also had recently fueled the comics speculation market, increasing in value from $4 cover price to $200! After that, I'd be constantly asked by later arrivals about 'hot comics'. When I'd inform them about no more mutants comics of any stripe, they'd move on with a dismissive expression on their faces. I still had key Silver Age titles to sell! There was one bright moment that day: A 10-yr. old boy surveyed the long boxes on the table that were at his eye-level. He squinted and asked: "Do you have any comics with Stilt-Man, I kinda like Stilt-man." Using my nightmarishly sharp memory of character appearances, I pulled all the Daredevils, a Spider-man and even the one Thor issue he appeared in. The kid was delighted. It reaffirmed my faith in the next generation of comics fans. I made a vow that day that if I ever worked in comics it would be for The Kid Who Collected Stilt-Man.

   Okay, that story wasn't nearly as poignant or touching as the Spider-Man story of a similar title, but you get my point. And you know what? I had an odd epiphany: I was a stuck in a holding pattern, keeping a collection of comics going, even if some titles sucked for years. That holding pattern mirrored my personality. I wasn't a self-starter back then and usually let events dictate my life, rather than the other way around. The cycle broken, I was freed not to get every single issue of "The astounding Irritant". I could buy just what I liked! I've since replaced a lot of the books I missed in one fashion or another due to all the recent trade paperbacks and hardbacks published by the Big Two. I know it sounds silly to compare comic collections to life lessons, but when comics become your livelihood, the two worlds are bound to intersect.

   So that's this week's worth of sob story. Wah wah wah. Cry me a river. Well, you know what? Some people settle into a holding pattern early in life and give up before they start. That used to be me.
 
To be continued...
 
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