Maybe I’ve always been a nervous person. I’m not sure, as my memory is shockingly, weirdly bad. However, anxiety has been a problem for me for some time now, only getting worse as the years go on and on. Burying my brain in books, movies, TV, and and getting my drink on have historically been my ways of dealing with this. Distraction, basically.

On what I initially thought was an unrelated note, I went to my doctor about a year ago due to a weird kind of problem with my stomach and chest. Discomfort stuff that had nothing to do with food as far as I could tell. After a bunch of tests (three hour breathing into bags thing, ultrasound, pap smear, etc.) revealing nothing, my doctor asked when it was the worst, and, upon reflection, I realized it was when I was driving, an activity I’ve never been a fan of – especially in this gridlocked mess that is LA.

She took this to mean that perhaps my anxiety and stomach/chest mystery pains were indeed related. It had to do with nervous breathing, gulping air. Since there seemed to be no other reasons, it made sense. She prescribed me some Xanax, a kind of happy pill that helps with anxiety and panic attacks.

“It’s like drinking but without getting drunk.”

“What’s the point of that?” I wondered.

(more…)

Kinda neat. I like the last one, but change is fun. I’m really excited to see how the show is with Steven Moffat at the helm — he wrote many of my favorite episodes over the last 4 seasons (which is a common opinion). The new kid playing the Doctor has some large shoes to fill. Will be a good time seeing what happens…

Nothing puts a damper on a swell restaurant (or bar or strip club — yeah, c’mon) experience more than discovering there’s a bathroom attendant. Well, maybe going alone and wondering if you’re an alcoholic if you don’t talk to anyone, which makes it basically, kind of, sort of the same as drinking alone. Well, maybe that’s not as bad as going out alone and not having the gumption to for ask that whomever you find attractive’s phone number. Well, that might not be as bad as asking for that attractive’s number and getting denied — or getting a fake number. Well… wait. What’s this public diary drivel about again?

Oh! Bathroom attendants. Right.

Look, when I hit the head, I just want to take a piss in peace, not be offered some mints. And I can very easily get my own towel. Seriously, I’m already spending too much money I don’t have to spend on drinks or whatever, I don’t want to feel like I have to tip some guy handing out the towels I’m fine with getting myself in the men’s room.

It’s almost always made worse by the fact that the bathroom attendant is almost always some really old fella with an air of formerly dignified sadness about him. Seriously, to be forced to sit all night where drunk assholes piss and shit is not an ideal way to spend one’s twilight years. Honestly, it’s no way to spend any years in my jerk opinion.

So now, not only does one have to pay a buck or two just to dry one’s hands, one must also be confronted with a possible sad future if things go the way they’ve been going. (No? Just me? … Darn.)

Look, even the nicest bathrooms stink (figuratively, but often literally). It’s no place to spend your weekend evenings, shilling normally free paper towels and offering superfluous mints, gum, and squirts of cologne — especially when you should be enjoying retirement. (Whatever happened to retiring, by the way? Don’t see it in my cards.)

Dickhead world. It’s not fair to either the bathroom attendant or the bathroom user.

I know times are tough, so I don’t want the millions (?) of bathroom attendants to be out of work, but I also don’t want to feel like I have to pay a dollar for a paper towel to the grandfatherly man who just watched me piss.

A great time was had yesterday (October 4) at the 2009 West Hollywood Book Fair! I enjoyed the fair last year, but this year was even better because I was on a panel! It was called OFF THE BEATEN PATH: INDIE CREATORS & THEIR CRAFT and also featured Jordan Crane (CLOUDS ABOVE and UPTIGHT), Ed Laroche (ALMIGHTY), Joe Matt (PEEP SHOW and SPENT), Kiyoshi Nakazawa (DRUNKEN MASTER) and was masterfully moderated by Darren Clavadetscher. (How’d I get on this panel anyway… ?)

Many, many thanks to Dan Kusunoki, Darren, and the whole Skylight Books team for their amazing support of my (and many others’) book POPGUN (from Image Comics) and some amazingly positive words about SOULLESS, MAN WITHOUT A SOUL (stories in POPGUN 1 & 2, soon to be a mini-series with artist extraordinaire Anjin Anhut — plug, plug).

And thanks to my friend William Richardson for not only showing support by attending but for also taking these snazzy photos!

Panels are fun.

“It depends,” I vaguely answer to the audience question: “Are you a top or bottom?” (True story.)

Jordan Crane telling me why superheroes suck as I argue, “But but but… me likey.”

Can’t tell if Darren is amused by whatever I’m saying or if he wants to punch me. Or both.

Unsure of what to write or how to scribble my signature.

I’m signing a book like a special person or something!

Not staged! Okay… well, a recreation of a comic reader/supporter named Wayne getting his copy of POPGUN 1 signed by someone he’s never heard of (me).

As Ed Laroche and Kiyoshi Nakazawa talk with fans, Jordan Crane is telling me how he’d kill off Superman once and for all in an accident involving a kryptonite finger nail clipper. (Later, I cry.)

Joe Matt draws himself reading on the toilet as I watch and wish I could draw like Joe Matt.

“My dad’s not a cell phone!”