Monthly Archives: April 2013

rainy weather, recaps & online dating


Well, the rain has returned. We had a nice little stretch of sunny spring goodness, so much so that the dandelions and all manner of other wild flora are blooming with abandon. I shouldn’t lament, but I will anyway, though I am now equipped with some rockin’ gum boots and a red hooded spring rain jacket that I managed to blow the two top buttons off of in less than a week. How’s that for superhero protuberances? Guess sewing is on the chore roster this weekend.

Speaking of superheroes… last weekend was the Vancouver FanExpo, this city’s version of Comicon wonderment, which I had the pleasure of attending.


It was (obviously) smaller than the (’08) San Diego Comicon, which is the only other con of this sort that I’ve ever attended, but it did the trick. I was slightly disappointed for the lack of representation from comic publishing outfits (of which there were only two: Arcana – a Canadian outfit, and Aspen), but the fans were out in great number, and they dressed for the occasion. Maybe next year I will too. (Or not.) But seriously… where was Drawn & Quarterly and any number of the big players who must *surely* have enough cashflow to throw some of it towards a booth to connect with the Vancouver fan base?

I found plenty of places to throw *my* money at, as there were many retailers selling books of all kinds of the comic variety, and the artists in the Artists’ Alley (like Diagon Alley, only different) had some pretty sweet art prints for sale. I made acquaintance with some new (and local) artists whose work I wasn’t familiar with, and picked up some small print zine-type stuff which I always love to find but can’t seem to outside of these sorts of venues (or at Meltdown Comics on Sunset, which is no longer just a hop in the car and a drive up the 405). I was also one of the few people going around with a sketchbook and asking for (free) sketches from artists. It’s not that I was being cheap (because I’m not) and I pretty much picked up something from each of them, in the way of comic books or graphic novels or art prints.

On Saturday I had the privilege of attending a Q&A panel with James Marsters and Juliet Landau (find them on YouTube), both of whom were lively and disarmingly engaged with the audience. I’ve never been to an unmoderated Q&A before, so that was interesting and quite delightful. The questioners (mostly) behaved. The lovely Juliet complained of allergies and puffy eye issues, so had on these awesome little sunglasses, and James was trim and dressed all in black looking very yummy. As Dru would say… “rrrrrr-uff!”

And finally, after sharing my newly acquired Process Recess volume 3 (which was one of my new acquisitions obtained at the con) with a gal sitting across from me during my ride home on the Westcoast Express a couple of days ago, come to find out that she is one of the mobile app designers at POF (Plenty of Fish) and we had a rousing conversation about all things art and online dating. She encouraged me not to give up on the process, which I had pretty much determined wasn’t working for me. In light of that conversation I asked a (male) friend of mine to write a profile narrative as if he were me – maybe I’m just not going about it the right way. Let’s see if it’s any better than what I’ve been able to come up with. I guess perhaps removing my Blowjob Princess award I received on one of those silly OKC (OK Cupid) tests from my profile was a good place to start.



{way too early to be up}

Sleep is eluding me tonight. I went to bed and fell asleep just fine, but awoke around 3am and can’t seem to get back to sleep. Perhaps the cat awoke me (she meows at the bedroom door sometimes), and once awakened I’ve been unable to fall back to sleep.

The only emotion that has been prevalent these days is sorrow. It’s weird to still feel like a teenager at almost fifty, still crying into the night. I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep during my marriage, lost and feeling misunderstood and unseen, and then, when I knew it was ending, cried some more in an attempt to purge the sense of failure and to mourn the love that was no longer in my life. With my mother’s passing, my only real deep sense of belonging and being loved left. I was cut adrift. And to understand how fucked up a dynamic the relationship between my mother and I was, it would take some time and a lot more writing.

I know some rationalize (or perhaps romanticize) the notion that love doesn’t die (I wonder where hatred drifts off to?), that the universe is filled with love, and that we just need to reach in with our big ladle and get ourselves a cupful of the good stuff and it’ll be there, but I can’t feel it.

All I feel is energy unmanifest, without emotion or intention, good or otherwise. This sense of it being good and beneficent, I think that’s a human construct, something we put in place in order to make life bearable when the going gets tough. Something to believe in when we have nothing left inside of us to get us to the other side.

Now I’m not saying that there isn’t beneficence in the world. I see and find it in people. This dialog (ingenious writers!) between to characters from one of the final episodes of Buffy illustrates the viewpoint:

Anya: There was this other apocalypse this one time. And, well, I took off. But this time, I don’t… I don’t know.
Andrew: Well, what’s different?
Anya: Well, I guess I was kinda new to being around humans before. And now I’ve seen a lot more, gotten to know people, seen what they’re capable of and I guess I just realize how amazingly… screwed up they all are. I mean, really, really screwed up in a monumental fashion.
Andrew: Oh.
Anya: And they have no purpose that unites them, so they just drift around, blundering through life until they die. Which they-they know is coming, yet every single one of them is surprised when it happens to them. They’re incapable of thinking about what they want beyond the moment. They kill each other, which is clearly insane, and yet, here’s the thing. When it’s something that really matters, they fight. I mean, they’re lame morons for fighting. But they do. They never… They never quit. And so I guess I will keep fighting, too.

Most people will rise to the occasion… there are moments in our lives when we all rise to that place. And also moments when we sink, and do despicable things. Our nature is dual, and yet we are capable of such greatness and beauty.

In a weird way I’ve isolated myself from most everything. At first I thought it was because I needed healing, time to rediscover myself and figure out my next direction in life, but the more I stay in this place, the more I wonder if I’ll ever get out of here, if anyone will ever be able to reach me, or if anyone will care to venture in. I’ve lost patience for most things. The drama bores me. It is unnecessary and tiresome, a waste of time and energy. I know the point of being here is the interaction, but I don’t want to interact on those levels. And I think it scares people, because I have a way of stripping things down to the essentials. You know, we really are all fucked up, and to not see it for what it is truly is a disservice to ourselves and others.

The only thing I do these days in the way of interaction is random acts of kindness. It is the only thing that brings people to their surface, and perhaps me as well.