Drinking at the Movies

I glow Hobart and came across an interview with Julia Wertz. Interesting. I then went to her comic blog (once named Fart Party, but she’s tired of that phrase). I then $$ her book. I also glow drinking at the movies. Once, during an absolutely packed house of the showing of Fahrenheit 911 (this was Massachusetts, go figure), I snuck a Fosters oil can into my pants and then when I opened it (always an awkward moment) the beer loudly exploded all over my jeans. That was embarrassing. Julia Wertz is a graphic memoirist. Often she is stumbling, spilling things, misunderstanding the situation, young and dumb (I mean the type of dumb that comes with this developmental age; the character is always self aware and obviously intelligent) and wander/wondering about Brooklyn—often, well, embarrassed. (Example: At one point, she has a giant, painful, of-unknown-origin rash on her ass.) If you are about to go all Oh God another story about a twenty-something in Brooklyn, blah, blah, bar scene, go right ahead. In the introduction, Julia Wertz says, “As an autobiographical writer, I had no choice but to portray the natural progression of my life, and I apologize to anyone who’s sick of these stories as I am.”

It’s an insightful, funny thing to say, and most likely speaks to one of the more endearing aspects of this character, her voice.

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IN ROOM 208

Check out “In Room 208” by Stephen Collins, which won the 2010 Observer/Cape graphic short story prize.  It’s creepy and lovely.  A couple whose honeymoon is cut short by bad weather retreat to a hotel, where a strange inertia takes hold…

Like a Dog

You are supposed to listen to Low while reading Ander Monson’s book from back when, O.E.

Interview with Zak Sally at Bookmunch.

I mean, I really do think that’s an important thing for…everyone, for all human beings on some level – just asking “what am I doing here? why am I doing it? am I being an asshole, am I holding myself accountable for the things I’m doing in this life?”

It is better to be good than smart. That is the idea.

Like a Dog Review at Bookmunch.

I like saying the word munch.

Words begat images, images begat words. That is the idea.

Snow of syllables. Eat etchings. Cold. Thaw. Words.

Bottomless Belly Button

I was going to fold my laundry, but my cat is sitting in the basket on top of it. I think it’s warm still, and he seems to like that. Instead, I’ll post something about Bottomless Belly Button, a graphic novel from Fantagraphics that I read a few days ago.

It’s pretty darn good.

(Hey, why haven’t we been writing about graphic novels more? I mean, as we have established, I am the member of the group who’s a little longer in the tooth than the rest of you, but aren’t people in our “age category” still supposed to read lots of graphic novels?)

Here’s the thing I hate about graphic novels. I hate graphic novelists. That’s what I hate about graphic novelists.

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