Obligations galore

I currently work 42 hours a week for a hectic, small company.
I manage the building in which I reside.
I'm a board member of the neighborhood association.
I edit the comics page for a monthly publication.



Part of me is ecstatic that finally, in my late 20's, I've come to terms with obligations and learned to fulfill them. Still, I can't help but notice that whilst I have learned to meet my challenges head on, and I'm meeting the wrong ones.

I went from production of a daily comic strip to managing a multitude of things. most of which are unrelated. No longer are my sketch books brimming with the characters of "Counter-Productive", and even monthly production of comic features have tailed off.

Some of this was voluntary, some of it a product of my own shortcomings and some of it was down to either a features or publications having expended their lifespans. Still, I'm off course. I need to draw. That's what I was meant to do. I've learned some valuable lessons, and life has seen fit to give me new skill sets. Fantastic. I've grown. I've changed.

Now it's time I found my way back to my proper trajectory.

I can't bail on my obligation outright. That's just not how it's done. But I need to get back to my core mission -- and not just pick up where I left off.

I think it's time for me to sketch for the hell of it again. I think it's time for me to create a new comic feature. I think it's time for some bold new thinking and uncharted terrain.

I'm not railing against my present circumstances, nor am I declaring the future glorious and certain. For once, when I'm honest with myself, I don't know what the future will look like. It's not at all clear.

And I've missed that. The perils, the potential, the possibilities...

Sometimes the best reason to do something is just because you can.

Milwaukee's Hidden Comic Shop

I've lived in Milwaukee since graduating from college. During that time, I've passed a storefront on multiple occasions with the words "the Turning Page" painted on the glass.

The front windows are chaotically wallpapered with comic posters, and and the store never seems to be open. I had actually thought it to be out of business... until last night.

I wound down my nightly bike route by dropping off a video at the Blockbuster on Farwell. Mind you, this is after ten miles of biking in the cold... my eyes were beginning to play tricks on me. When what to my blurry eyes do I see? The seemingly defunct comic shop, windows ablaze with light, and apparently open at 8:00 on a Thursday night.

I stepped inside to investigate and buy a new issue of Hellboy. Here, courtesy of my phone's camera, is what I witnessed:

The shop was very quiet. It reminds me of the crumbling three story spire of books housed in Renaissance over on Plankinton. There were actually four middle-to-late aged men hidden through the small store front silently reading books. Odd B-sides from a Madonna album belched out of the boom box set on top of one shelf of magazines (what local radio station is receiving transmission from 1992?).


Chaos. They have loads of books. Simply a smashing amount--but there appears to be NO ORDER WHATSOEVER.


This man is the cash register. He's a nice guy. I was afraid that he'd catch me snapping a photo. Turns out that he didn't catch me standing in front of him with my wallet out waiting to purchase my books for about three minutes.

And this is simply brilliant. A man, possibly a staffer, asleep in the aisle. Yup. Go back two photos. You can see him still asleep in the aisle.

Mind you, I post this not to make fun. It was just a bit... surreal. They appear to have plenty of new stuff, its just a bit confusing to sort through. I simply feel that there's something uniquely Milwaukee about a place like this.

Oh -- they have bunches of Dr. Who schwag.

I don't want to beat this horse any more, but it's all like "you hit like a girl" and stuff...

I'm underwhelmed by Caroline Kennedy. Thus far, she has failed to impress with me with less than, you know, engaging , you know, mannerisms and questionable motives for public office. Admittedly, I don't know much about her past her lineage and some clips on the Daily Show. I certainly haven't seen her grilled by Katie Couric and spoofed by SNL yet.

So part of me is almost inclined to agree with Sarah Palin when she says Kennedy is being treated differently by the media than she was. Almost.


Here are the glaring differences, to my way of thinking:

1. Sarah Palin was introduced to the most contentious presidential election in recent history in the closing months of a prolonged battle for the White House. Caroline Kennedy is is looking at a senate seat after said election is over. We no longer feel the thunder, or feel the roar (however, one could reasonably infer that the Thundercats are loose). The media is once again looking at crap like Courtney Love's haunted studio and flying cows taking out wind turbines in the UK. Oh, and maybe that whole crisis in Gaza too.
2. Sarah Palin wanted to be the second most powerful person in this country's government and one. Caroline Kennedy wants to be a senator for the state of New York. Guess which one is easier to get worked up over?
3. Sarah Palin ran for vice president. Caroline Kennedy, as of this post, is considering a an appointment to Hillary Clinton's open seat in New York.

Comparing Sarah Palin's run for Vice President to Caroline Kennedy's consideration of a Senate appointment is what I would classify as a FALSE EQUIVALENCY.

Wait. What's that you say, Sarah?

"A lot of people are capitalizing on, I don't know, I think, perhaps, exploiting that was done via me, my family, my administration."

So, the big, tough "Real America" conservative was exploited by the pussy liberal media?

I thought the liberals are supposed to be the ones that whine and use terms like "exploit" to decry their treatment at the hands of someone else....

What Jingoism Would Toby Keith Use?

I will be so broke next year....

... after I buy a video game platform and this:

Ghostbusters - Atari Live Trailer
Uploaded by dpadmagazine

Walter Peck gets possessed, the Ecto-1 is fitted with some sort of Ghost Attractor, they have an Ecto Boat and "It wasn't me this time, I swear."

A third movie in interactive form. Geek nirvana. Take me, Atari.

Oh. Don't forget about the full scale replica Proton Pack and Ecto Trap on it's way from Master Replicas.

My checking account is done for. R.I.P., financial solvency.

Mac Hawk Down

As some of you may or may not now, I have a G5 Mac tower for a home computer. The Big Mac has served me well over these last four and a half years. Until Halloween.

I was IMing on Google when the computer simply shut itself down. Bam. Just off. Nothing to it. It went completely dead, and there has been no restarting it.

I've tried every trick in the book - resetting the PMU, the PRAM, re-seating the RAM, attempting to start in Safe Mode (it won't get that far)... all to no avail.

I finally broke down and took it to the Mac Store. They tinkered around with it for a while before finally concluding that it's probably the logic board. They can't be sure.

They can, however, be sure that it'll cost $685 for a new board and about $100 in labor. In short, I'd have to throw $800 at a $1,500 tower. Nooooooot happening. Hell, for $400 more than the repair can a buy a more powerful iMac. Or save up and get a laptop.

For those of you wondering why I have yet to post photos, have been less than diligent I e-mailing or have had to make special accommodations to complete projects... that's why.

The End of Mediocrity

The United States of America, 1957:

The United States of America, 2008:

Goddamnit.

I woke up earlier this week to the sound of yelling. I couldn't discern much, but the word "RUUNNN!" was distinct enough to jolt me right out of bed. In no time flat, I was in my jogging pants, a crappy shirt and my frequently abused running shoes. I could hear the yelling proceed north up my block. I ran towards Center Street.

I reached the end of the block, befuddled and with my hair resembling that of Ace Ventura. I found a serene woman standing at the end of the street. I was confused. This did not look like someone that was just in a mêlée. So I asked: "ummm... is everything alright?".



"What? Oh, yes, yes... I was just yelling at my kids. They're late getting to school, and I was telling them to hurry up and get in before the bell". I looked at the massive paved block across the way and to Pierce Elementary across the way.

False alarm.

This is a frequent occurrence in Riverwest. Sometimes I'll hear bangs outside and play my favorite game, "Were Those Firecrackers or Gunshots?". Sometimes, like earlier this afternoon, the neighbor's kids will running past my living room window screaming as they play. Every time, I have to step outside and verify that all is well.

Which is why I'm pissed at myself tonight.

I had been working on framing some art pieces for Gallery Night this weekend. I was going to take a break and watch Family Guy at 8:00. I recall seeing the clock on the Big Mac tell me it was three minutes shy of the hour when I heard a commotion in the alley.

Are those the neighbor kids shrieking?

No.

Shit! Are my boots on? Where's my jacket? Where's my MagLite?

Boots are on. Jacket's by the door. MagLite is on the nightstand. But fuck the accessories - just get outside. NOW.

Shit.

Move it, asshole!

I ran down the hallway, popped out the back door then slowed. My brain caught up to me and told me that I had no idea what I was running into. Was I bringing a knife to a gunfight... except that I didn't have a knife on me?

The air was warm, and the moon was nearly full. I know how the moon looked, because the neighbor up in #10 on the second floor was yelling down to the victim to ask whether or not that were alright. Whatever had happened, had happened fast and was already over. A glance to the left revealed nothing. I glance to the right showed me a figure standing near the "t" junction at the south end of the alley. This person's back was to me, and was fairly motionless. Not a word was emitted. Yellow light bathed the scene from the mercury vapor sentinels above.



"What's going on!" I yelled. The figure slowly turned. It was a woman. Turns out she had been jumped. She was checking the contents of her purse. Much to her attackers chagrin, she still had all of her possessions. But that wasn't for lack of trying.

It turns out that some teenage kid on a bike came down the alley after her. She had just left Frank n' Stein and apparently came the long way down the alley. The kid punched her repeatedly in the face and demanded her purse. Evidently she didn't it cede it to him, and he took off after to ran up to Mike's back fence and try to get past his stairs. He took off on the bike. I have no idea how much I missed him by, but it couldn't been but a matter of seconds.

And that's why I'm pissed at myself.

My new fitness regimen demands that I jog before going to work. The last long block past Pierce Elementary is set aside for a sprint. I always visualize chasing down the "phone perp" I ran after a couple of years ago. I also bike a minimum of nine miles after work. So I jog, bike, and lift weights six days a week. Saturdays usually see me putting in extra mileage on the bike, and I put 25 miles in on it yesterday afternoon. I still have something of a gut to work off, but it's diminishing on a daily basis. The point is, if I ever need to break in to a Terminator run, I want to by in my physical prime to give my prey more than they bargained for.

And that's why I'm pissed at myself.

I feel like I should have been out the door sooner. I feel like I should have been out between the garages sooner. I hesitated, and they may have been just enough for this little puke to hightail it out of there. A woman just got punched in my alley, and I haven't road-burned juvenile to show for it.

I spoke with the woman as she was on hold with 911. I asked her to turn into the light some more so I could examine her face. She wasn't bleeding, and there was nothing immediately overt in the way of injuries - though I'm sure swelling was to arrive later on.

I kept repeating "let's get you inside", but she was unwilling to even move at first. It appeared that she was halfway in shock, and I'm sure she wasn't in a hurry to enter a strange person with a guy she just met in a dark alley moments after getting jumped. But I wanted to get her indoors, really for one reason - so I knew that she would be safe whilst I teared down the alley in the direction of the fleeing perp. Again I asked - again she declined.



My heart sank. I wasn't about to force her to do anything, but I certainly wanted to go after this dick. The best i could do was stand by her while she talked to the dispatcher, provide her with a street address and walk her back to the safety of her friends at the bar. After she was safely ensconced in the our local funeral-home-turned-year-round-Halloween-themed-karaoke bar, I ran down the street. I produced my jacket, my MagLite, jumped in Cthuhlu, and started patrolling the neighborhood.

MPD started to appear five minutes into my search. Initially, it was one marked squad cruising an alley nearby. I began to leap frog him and take the alley immediately to the east of him - just like driving animals to an ambush.

A cruise by Frank n' Stein revealed two unmarked squads that showed up after ten minutes. I clipped into the alley opposite from my apartment, only to have that aforementioned marked squad follow me in. I cleared out and headed towards Locust.

I went east for two blocks, then spotted a bicyclist close to the description I had been given heading west. I went past the traffic light at Fratney and banged a U-turn in the center of the road. An unmarked squad had been waiting for the light to change from the other way, and now had the green while I got the red. I can't tell if the police inside were confused by what I was doing, if they were listening to radio traffic, of eyeing up the same bike - but they weren't moving. Finally they realized the light was changing, and headed west. I followed. They broke off before seeing the bicyclist. I followed him.

Further examination led me to conclude that this was no teenager and he had not simply ditched a red hoody. It was now twenty minutes past the time of the original police call, and Cthulhu's on-board scanner finally picked up the game. MPD was now on the air with the description of the assailant, street location and other such vitals.

Great. 20 minutes later. The kid could have been in Shorewood by that point. But odds were that he wasn't, and my neck of the words was now crowded with at least five police cars looking for little red riding fuckhead. So I went west.

The city changes pretty quickly as you head past Riverwest's western edge a few blocks east. I began patrolling the street west of Humboldt, since it was clearly copless and usually is after something like that. I managed to run across bored kids, elderly men and a couple of questionable characters loitering in the alleys - but nothing came back as a match.

I went past my alley again and could see an unmarked car now sitting in the alley behind my building. I pulled around, parked and spoke with the officers and said hi to the woman again. I gave them what little information I had, and let one into the building so he could speak with the woman in 10. Turns out she saw the perp briefly. Her details matched what we already knew - but she had a description of the bike, something I tried to pull from the victim early on but she couldn't describe well.

Still, as of this posting, nothing to report. I'm sure that makes this entry anti-climatic, but it's quite indicative of the story. I'm just frustrated and have nothing to show. I keep having this vision of me getting out of the building quicker, seeing a kid trying to stand on the pedals of his BMX bike to make it go faster, and me just checking him into the concrete. Oh, it feels good in my head. Then I realize that he's still out there.

All in all, the woman didn't seem to get hurt too badly, and the perp left empty handed. MPD poured cops into the neighborhood, and hopefully they picked up enough information to be able to track the kid down. Still... ugg. It happened right outside. Ever since two of my friends got held up at gunpoint in front of the building, I've had something of a personal vow to come down like a town of bricks on the next delinquent dumb enough to try that shit around my building. And this one got away. Goddamnit.

Go MPD.

But hey... it's a nice night out. The police swarm has melted away, and the moon is full. Think I'll go take a bike ride.