This is more than a month old, but I wanted to state for the record: We had a blast at ECCC! Seattle is my favorite US city and though we only stayed the weekend, it was still great. I loved the friendly vibe and not having to wait four hours in line to get in!
The biggest highlight for me was meeting Kurt Busiek, who turns out is not only the most talented writer in the industry, but the nicest man in the world!
There was a charity art jam at a local bar, where we watched David Mack go nuts with paint, and local artists mix it up with big names to make some beautiful pieces.
And as usual, we got some quality original art. A few examples:
Axe Cop! Dinosaur! Dinosaur Gun Arms!
I adore Scottie Young's style. His work on the Marvel Wizard of Oz is just gorgeous. We got a cowardly lion and FROG THOR cover! Yay, FROG THOR!
Ryan Ottley, of Invincible fame.
I've just recently gotten into Elephantman, which is a freaking amazing book. They did these sketches for free!
Panel from The Darkness, a guilty pleasure of mine.
We got prints and lots of other sketches too. Since it was so laid back and chill, we spent a fair amount of time just talking to the artists and writers. While NYCC is a great event, it's good to attend a smaller Con and get away from the crush of people and attitudes. I think we may have to make an annual trip to ECCC!
Alternative. Minimum. Tax.
We got hit with AMT this year. This must be how Republicans are made.
Having slain the terrible fuzzy stuffed cow, the warrior pup takes a well deserved nap.
Sometimes I think she's a little cat trapped in a big dog's body.
This weekend I read through my T.S. Eliot collection and remembered how much I like his work. Today, I had images inspired by these lines running through my head:
I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river
Is a strong brown god - sullen, untamed and intractable,
Patient to some degree, at first recognised as a frontier;
Useful, untrustworthy, as a conveyor of commerce;
Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.
The problem once solved, the brown god is almost forgotten
By the dwellers in cities - ever, however, implacable.
Keeping his seasons, and rages, destroyer, reminder
Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated
By worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting.
His rhythm was present in the nursery bedroom,
In the rank ailanthus of the April dooryard,
In the smell of grapes on the autumn table,
And the evening circle in the winter gaslight.
Excerpt from The Dry Salvages
It's been a long time since I've written poetry. This month I plan to read more, in celebration of National Poetry Month. Maybe I'll turn out a verse or two of my own as a result!
