Confessions of a Justified Sinner
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nicklad's LiveJournal:
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| Thursday, January 19th, 2006 | | 9:44 pm |
It's all good.
We're starting out the New Year right, dear friends. Here are a few updates. A quick reminder: my graphic blog is up and running and not for the bashful. interrobanger.blogspot.comJust after the first of the year I finished a 16-page comic story called "Jeremy and Josephine Go to a Gay Bar." You can read the whole puppy at my blog. Or download a compressed PDF of about 6 megs here. Or let me know if you'd like a hard copy mailed to you. This comic led directly to an invitation from an editor at Viking to have an original comic published as part of an anthology about the horrors of middle school. It'll be a good year and a half before the book actually sees print, but I couldn't be more thrilled--I'm going to be a published cartoonist! My piece will be a memoir about my time as a sissy batboy for the Jacksonville Suns. That terrible Thomas the Tank Engine book that I wrote will be in stores this fall. It's called "May the Best Engine Win." (Hint: It's not the girl.) Finally, Billy has been productive himself, having just completed a crown of sonnets...with stage directions. It's ambitious and moving and it's honestly one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I've encountered in a long time. Download it with a simple click. I hope to be in Florida as soon as it's warm enough for the beach and Ichetucknee. April? May? Check back here for your biannual update. :-) | | Monday, November 14th, 2005 | | 9:49 pm |
| | Monday, May 2nd, 2005 | | 12:21 am |
The same old brand-new you
Here are some resolutions that I've broken this week: 1. Don't run to catch a train. 2. Don't fear the poor. 3. Don't give your number to anyone who isn't wearing a shirt. 4. Don't smoke. 5. Don't talk asthmatics into smoking. 6. Don't buy an iPod and then replace the telltale white headphones for fear of being mugged. 7. Don't buy new underwear in order to postpone doing laundry. 8. Don't go to work without underwear in an attempt to further postpone doing laundry. 9. Don't frequent chains like Cosi, Chipotle, or Pizza Hut (breadsticks). 10. Don't flag off someone for getting in a cab that you feel is rightfully yours. | | Thursday, April 28th, 2005 | | 5:56 pm |
The kids are alright
Okay, as if work isn't enough of a zoo... take your kids to work day? I know I work in children's publishing, but that doesn't mean I want any contact with 'em. Except maybe to punt them. I did, however, benefit, in that our cafeteria today replaced their "global vegetarian" buffet with kids' food. I was able to enjoy mac & cheese, mini-pizza, chicken fingers, grilled cheese, and a big baked pretzel. YUM. As for the eight-year-old kids at the public school that I've been working with, fellow volunteer Alisha and I have been flirting through (not with) them. It's hilarious. Or maybe just inappropriate. Keone: Why did Alisha put lemon frosting on chocolate cupcakes? Me: Well, she was very drunk last night when she baked them. (Winks at Alisha.) Anjali: Look at the ducks! Are they married? Alisha: Yes, the brown one is the female, and the pretty green one is the male. Anjali: The PRETTY one is the BOY? Alisha: Yeah, isn't that weird? Just like Nick's prettier than a girl. (Winks at Nick.) Here's a picture from our picnic.  | | Sunday, April 24th, 2005 | | 1:32 am |
Each coming night
Saturday was 24-Comic Day. I wish it had been more of a success. I did manage to produce 3 pages of my year-in-Gainesville memoir, which gets us through the breakup with Noah and Kim's intro and invitation to a keg party. I would really like to have a full mini-comic before the Comic-Con this July. We ended up going to local bar Coogan's, which I've always thought of as a blue-collar joint. Certainly it's seemed so on weeknights. But it was hopping tonight, with karaoke and a group of gay guys and the girls that love them, all of whom came up to us (well, to Nico) and chatted us up all night. I was attracted to Wade, who was OF COURSE hitting on Nico, and OF COURSE in a relationship, and OF COURSE a complete drunken asshole. At least I'm consistent on these points, though he may be the first who's hit all three. Hedging my bets after seeing Wade get into a racial altercation outside and having his friends beg pardon for his behavior, I decided to, well, focus on his cute (if less striking) boyfriend Ryan. I offered him a job at Random House and my moral outrage over the practice of circumcision, neither of which I can likely deliver on. But they've been together three months and I give it another two. As I'm writing this, Billy just got fanmail from a girl that thought he was 36 based on his online pictures. HA! Where was I? It was a nice week, though extremely hectic at work. Mallory was out of town and I assume it was a trial run before her maternity leave. I stepped to the plate, but it involved ten-hour days and a severe fraying of the nerves. I did get my first try at line-editing (it took me the better part of a day to edit ten pages) and also had deadlines with inputing her edits and approving digital proofs on the next Magic Tree House. Not to mention training the new assistant. Sheesh. Despite all this, I had Stephin Merritt on Monday, a modern dance show with David and his folks on Tuesday, drinks with Nico on Wednesday (which he insisted were tax deductible), a date with a New Yorker employee on Thursday, then watched THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING with the same boy (Will) on Friday. He had his first kiss when he had lockjaw with a boy who had a tongue piercing, and the other boy's tongue got stuck in his mouth. The boy had to turn his head sideways to dislodge. Bwa ha ha. What else? Well, I suppose that's enough. I do try to keep busy. | | Saturday, April 23rd, 2005 | | 12:35 pm |
All I wanna do is make love to you
If everyone were expected to sit through the extended version of THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING just to get laid, the human race would have died out long ago. | | Friday, April 22nd, 2005 | | 5:34 pm |
The Trouble I've Been Looking For
After months of failed attempts, I finally made it to Clubhouse, the East Village bar where Stephin Merritt hosts the weekly "Profoundly Incredible Tentacle." There were only five people there as I waited for my lame-ass friend to shuffle up from Soho. I took a seat at the bar, in the corner, and willed myself into obscurity. Stephin started off the night by placing candy on every available surface. I sat there blushing while he lovingly arranged--then sort of psychotically re-arranged--chocolate bars and lollipops right behind my back. Then, I took a seat by a window and when he went out for a cigarette I'm reasonably certain that I was breathing in his second-hand smoke as it seeped indoors. After twenty excruciating minutes of trying not to look as if I were trying not to look at Stephin (who is sort of shaped like a penguin, but is undoubtedly a genius) David and Billy showed up and joined me in my dark corner. "He looks sort of like a penguin," I told them. "Why is he just sitting at a laptop?" David asked. "That is how they deejay these days," I said with confidence. Because the appropriate planets were aligned, Billy happened to see his own older-gay-artist crush, esteemed poet Mark Doty, out on the street. They made eyes, but Billy opted not to follow him into an espresso bar. We were joined by Michael's ex-roommate-with-benefits Peter, who I've been hoping to get into bed since, 14 months ago, he lounged about Michael's place in his boxer shorts and expressed concern that his "wang might hang out." Aside from that charming exchange, all I had to go on was that he's a Magnetic Fields fan, so I used my knowledge of this weekly event to draw him further into my incestuous network. (Turns out, through utter coincidence, that he's recently had relations with Mickey, my friend who works at Marvel.) Peter brought Jamie, one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen. When Billy, after four Rolling Rocks at $2.50 apiece, decided it was a good idea to tell her that I thought so, Peter said, "Of course she's gorgeous! She's a model." "You're a model?" I asked. "Well," she explained. "I was just in this Atari ad. It's running in gaming magazines and I'm a, uh, I'm a pirate. With an eye patch." How hot is that? Peter and I went out for a cigarette and I modestly explained my fear that, now that I'm single, my many Platonic gay friends will find my hot ass too tantalizing to ignore. He said loudly, "Just tell everyone that we fucked all night long. Fucked all. Night. Long." Then as we went back inside we realized that Stephin had been next to us the whole time. We giggled like naughty children. David went home and not much after that Billy, Peter, Jamie, and I decided to hop over to another bar, in hopes that the bartender that Jamie is stalking would be there. But before that happened some random drunk named John insisted that we couldn’t leave without first saying goodbye to his “friend Stephin.” Pliable in our chemically-induced good humor, we filed up to Mr. Merritt and introduced ourselves, thanking him for a night of all-British music. And Billy thanked him for the candy, and got a chuckle. The object of Jamie’s obsession wasn’t working at that second bar, so instead of being stalkers we made harassing phone calls and ... well, I don’t remember what else. But we had that glow of affection that comes with getting to know new people over shared vices. Billy is the perfect partner for these situations, because he almost always makes a good first impression and yet is so very committed to Nico as to be virtually sexless. That way he charms my potential lovers without ever making it feel like a competition. So we resolved to attend the whatsis-Tentacle again in the future, and Peter gave me a call to say goodnight only ten minutes after we’d parted and said goodnight. So with any luck there may be some peter in my future. | | Monday, April 18th, 2005 | | 11:49 am |
Afterglow
Winter's finally released its deathgrip on the city, and it's been nothing but clear skies. My neighborhood is absolutely vibrant. Last night Billy, Nico, and I walked to dinner and everyone was out on the sidewalks-- kids playing ball or taking turns with a swing, families sitting on the concrete steps leading to their apartment buildings. One guy was having his cornrows done. Another played Latin music from his double-parked car for all of his friends. And I've never seen the chimichurri van doing such good business. It's really like something out of a movie. A movie that I'm too white to be cast in, but it's still exciting. Especially after all these insular months of curling in on oneself. Billy had a workshop with the legendary Maurice Sendak on Saturday, while I joined David, Nico, and his visiting friend Rachel for a daytrip to Philadelphia. We walked around town a bit, enjoyed the sights (oh, to see guys in shorts once again!), ate pretzels on a lawn, and saw Garbage in an impressively intimate venue. I like the new album, but was especially pleased that they played a lot of old stuff. I elbowed some poor girl in the head during "Push It," but she was a good sport. Shirley Manson really knows how to work a crowd. She's looking a bit older, but is amazingly sexy. And endearing. Can you be both? Anyway. A fantastic day. On Sunday I had every intention of going in to work (work has been KICKING MY ASS) but the weather got the best of me and I followed the gang to a dog run at the Cloisters. Paisley made some friends; I read for a bit and then went for a jog. I don't know how people handle cross-country terrain. I ended up off the beaten path, splashing through mud, hopscotching rocks, climbing under fallen trees and jumping iron fences. Just last week I was able to run for half an hour in my grandmother's neighborhood. I barely made half of that in this park. But it still felt better than going to work. Where I am now. Our new assistant started today, which means I'm no longer The New Kid. In fact, I'm to spend my afternoon training her. I'm hoping she doesn't change the dynamic here too much. And that my newly found ambition doesn't impede our relationship--professional or otherwise. | | Saturday, April 16th, 2005 | | 12:01 am |
Homesick
My recent visit reminded me of everything that I miss about Florida. And that's a lot. But it goes far, far beyond brunching with friends or sharing a playlist on a long highway drive. My sister called me tonight. She was seriously distraught over a conflict with our mom. I thought about the night that Brian died. Josh and I drove shaken and exhausted from a party in Orlando. And I remembered leaving a meeting with my thesis advisor and jumping a bus when Kayla was born. It's painful to realize now that, no matter how desperately my family may need me in the future, I will not be able to drop everything and rush to them. How long would it take? Not much else going on, except that Billy and I accidentally dyed my hair purple. | | Thursday, April 7th, 2005 | | 12:51 am |
Hurry Home Through the Crowds
I've decided I'm only going to use my journal to apologize about never updating my journal. And also: I'm going to be in Florida before you know it, i.e., this weekend. Tentative plans include Fri & Sat in St. Pete, Saturday night in Gainesville, Sunday in Jacksonville, Monday in Gainesville, and Tuesday in Jacksonville. It's like a hurricane warning! Lock up yer valuables and stock up on booze. | | Monday, February 14th, 2005 | | 1:03 am |
This Little Ukulele
If Jens Lekman has been voted the 15th best-looking man in Sweden, then there are exactly 15 people with whom I'd cheat on Zack. David and I were joined by a visiting Missy last night as we gazed upon the young man who is undoubtedly my favorite musician since Stephin Merritt. He manages to be funny and poignant and beautiful all at once. The show was at a very small venue; David and I stood very near the stage, maybe two yards from Jens, and after several encores Jens promised to circulate the club with his ukulele so that he could accommodate everyone's desire to hear his or her favorite song. Though I generally pride myself on being unimpressed with celebrity, I rather gushed. I walked up to him and introduced myself and, with a dry mouth and legs like jelly, articulated, "You're, like, my favorite artist." And then, utterly without shame (for a few seconds, at least) I asked him to pose with me in a photo. This was the crown jewel in an impressive string of musical performances that I've attended with David. In the past few weeks alone, we've seen Bright Eyes, the Arcade Fire (the largest collection of mostly unattractive individuals I've seen on a single stage since Belle and Sebastian), Low (with Pedro the Lion), Kings of Convenience, and my coworker's band, mr mcgregor. Forthcoming are the French Kicks (with Calla, swoon), the Stars, and Dar Williams (whom I met last time, since David's her editor). Amazingly, David sees even more, as I usually don't join him for what I call "the dyke stuff." Amusingly, we walked within two feet of Conor Oberst, and, since everyone at that show was dressed like Conor Oberst, I didn't even notice. Once I had the same experience with a corpse when I visited my dad at the morgue. Good times.  | | Monday, January 17th, 2005 | | 11:07 am |
Pictures of me
More pictures up. One whole page devoted to Paisley, and two detailing the apartment I share with her and her folks. There are links at the top of the page to help you navigate. Updates every week or two. Photo Albums | | Friday, January 14th, 2005 | | 12:06 pm |
I love the WB
This just in from Noah: Below is the airdate for my episode of WANNA COME IN on MTV. Please watch and tell folks you know.....I'm the gay stud. January 24, 2005. That's Monday. 4 PM Pacific time (if you have cable). If you have Dish, etc., airtime may vary. Check your local listings. I can vouch for the "gay" bit, but I don't know about "stud".... | | Thursday, January 13th, 2005 | | 6:15 pm |
When I said I wanted to be your dog
Hot coworker Shane, infamous for getting drunk at our department's annual pool party and loudly bemoaning his lack of boyfriend, gave me a gift. It's an old Garbage Pail Kid card, "Ridiculous Nicholas," featuring a kid that's so completely freaked out by a dog that he's literally blown his lid. The joke is that the offending dog is very small, and very sweet. Shane couldn't have known how fitting a gift it is. Nico's still laughing about my failure to bond with the gigantic poodle that Michael was taking care of over our Thanksgiving vacation in Boston. When she snuck up on me and licked my hand, I leapt from my seat and ran to the bathroom, screaming for "SOAP!" in a high-pitched voice. And now there's a dog in our apartment. Paisley is pug with two daddies-- or more properly, a Daddy (Billy) and a Papa (Nico). And a dour gay uncle, I suppose. Billy's been in London for the past week with David, so it's been up to Nico to continue the training. I haven't been much help, but that's sort of the deal. I do try to reinforce good behavior by acknowledging her when she goes to the bathroom in the right place. And she does melt my heart when she runs to greet me when I get home from work. But she seems to think that biting's sweet, and cute as she is, she seems slow to learn. (She takes after Daddy, I think.) Why, as a person that likes his boyfriends to be needy, do I find it so annoying to be needed by an animal? Maybe it runs in the family. We had an unwelcome dog visit us along with my uncle and his drunk floozy this Christmas, and my mom took to kicking her when no one was looking. (The hound, I mean; not the boozehound.) Mom also let our last dog effectively rot to death in the garage. Which only made the flea problem worse. So, Paisely and I maintain an uneasy alliance. I agree to try to love her, wishing all the while that she'd change. And she agrees to let me know when she wants something, remaining true to herself regardless of my presence or desires. Come to think of it, the dog really is starting to sound like some of my boyfriends.   | | Thursday, January 6th, 2005 | | 1:21 pm |
The things we did and didn't do
I've posted some pictures at http://homepage.mac.com/neliopulos/PhotoAlbum1.html. Most of them will have limited appeal, but they're worth checking out for Billy & Nico's new puppy Paisley (aww) and my new anal-sex balloon hat (aww). Zack has provided captions for some of his favorites over on his journal (irresolutefate). There's also a pic of me here: http://www.cbcbooks.org/events/trivia2.html. After a two-week vacation heavy with cigarettes, alcohol, sex, and soda pop, my body has all but shut down. I'll be in touch as my health improves. Thanks to all who made my break so enjoyable. Same time next year? | | Friday, November 12th, 2004 | | 4:10 pm |
Drink to me, babe, then
I've just accepted a wonderful job offer from Random House. I'll be an editorial assistant, working with three very cool editors on some of the best-selling children's books around. David knows some of the people in the department, so he got my foot in the door and prepped me for the interview and practice test. Actually, he was able to talk me up to some people there when he was drafted as a judge for the RH Halloween costume contest. Weird but true. Anyway, he told me he'd be able to help me find a good job, and, boy, did he deliver. A shout out to the UPF folks too, since they're the ones who got me interested in this line of work to begin with. Things are really coming together. It's an ideal job (much better than I might have hoped for) that pays more than I was expecting and offers crazy benefits. Let's hear it for big corporations! And I get to keep on keeping on with Marvel, too. I start on Thursday! | | Thursday, November 4th, 2004 | | 1:28 pm |
Carry me Ohio
What can I say that you all haven’t covered? I’m going to miss being able to view W as an illegitimate president. And I fear that we’ll be dealing with the fallout from his administration for the rest of our lives. I went to see Saw last night in an effort to distract myself, but kept trying to read mutilated bodies as an allegory for the body politic of the contemporary United States. Bah. On top of everything else, I’m getting supremely anxious over not having a full-time job yet. Between Scholastic and Marvel I’m working maybe 50 hours a week, plus going to job interviews that assign take-home tests. I’m not sure how much longer I can (or should) hold out for an ideal job. I like what I’m doing now, but I want a salary. I want benefits. Funny, so many posts from people wanting to leave the country, and here I am trying desperately to lay down some roots. | | Friday, October 29th, 2004 | | 1:43 pm |
Everyone I know is gay
I actually wrote this on yesterday, but didn't have a chance to post it. All that's changed since then is that I got a bit tipsy at a coworker's farewell party last night, and I am currently preparing for a visit from my great unrequited love, Troy, who will be joining me for the 3rd Annual Madonnathon tonight. Let's hear it for guilty pleasures! ... I finally made it up to Columbia last night for a poetry reading by Mr. Billy Merrell. Our boy's coming along just fine, you’ll be glad to know. He seems to have the entire department's respect, and not once during his reading did my poetry phobia flare up, despite the fact that his recent work is a lot less narrative than what I'm used to. He doesn't like to make a hullabaloo over being published, so he asked me to write an introductory bio that was more funny than informative. Here's what I came up with: "Billy Merrell recently came to Columbia University from Florida, home state of such acclaimed writers as Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings and... well, that's about it. Just as his earliest work was informed by shifting family relationships and his emerging sexual identity, Billy looks forward to a time when his poetry will be hijacked by animosity over a sexless marriage and his own encroaching death. While honing his craft, Billy devotes much of his time to interacting with other young writers through the classroom, online forums, and corporate internships. He currently lives in Washington Heights, where he enjoys hosting cocktail parties and balding prematurely. (OR instead of 'balding prematurely' you could say 'framing pictures of teen idol Lindsay Lohan'.)" I really meant for the Lindsay Lohan bit to replace the balding comment, but instead the host read both options just as written above. Oh well. It got some laughs, and from the podium Billy pointed me out as "the guy back there who now needs a new best friend." Even more entertaining than the reading was my lunchtime trip to a SoHo store named Evolution, where my coworker Josh introduced me to the stunning Jessica Grindstaff, who is, with her husband, a visual artist, but pays her bills by pinning exotic arthropods for display. She showed us death's-head moths and spiders the size of my head. I greatly enjoyed her company, despite the fact that her last name and proficiency with sharp tools instilled me with more than a little castration anxiety. Last week was, as typical, busy. On Wednesday night I had my Gay League meeting, after which one member with "impeccable gaydar" accompanied me to a St. Mark's CD store to confirm the heterosexuality of the clerk I've been casually stalking. Thursday was Shaun of the Dead with Nico, Billy, and Q, who might have thought it was a double date until I took care to sit between Nico and the cinema wall. Friday was the Death Cab for Cutie show, after which Billy crashed with David and me so that the three of us could spend a leisurely weekend in Philadelphia, City of Brotherly Love, and Short Hills, Township of Free Laundry. I've started my work with Marvel, and it's a joy. I'll basically bring home a stack of work once a week, read through it at my leisure, and then compose appropriate letters. I went in for a meeting on Tuesday and was introduced to Axel Alonso, the editor whom I credit with every smart move Marvel's made in the past five years, from putting indie creators on X-Force to establishing a new Spider-Man title under the Marvel Knights imprint. Still, I managed not to visibly swoon. I'll be in Florida on Wednesday, December 22nd through Thursday the 30th. I'm hoping that splitting my weeklong vacation up over two work weeks will ensure that I'll be able to see everyone despite the fact that you'll all have plans for the holidays. After my visit I'm bringing Zack back to New York with me for a few days, so here's to hoping we get along as well as I remember. I think it'll be a blast. Especially the bit involving the new X-Men RPG and our knickers. How is it that I keep forgetting to report the most important things? Mom is doing very well. Apparently the doctor removed all the cancerous tissue during the biopsy, so the surgery itself was minimal. She was back to running races within a couple of weeks, and will be done with her mild radiation treatments by Christmas. | | Monday, October 18th, 2004 | | 11:53 pm |
You can take the boys out of Gainesville but...
I got mugged on Friday night! At least, I might’ve. I was stinking drunk and passed out on the A train. When I came to at the end of the line, I had headphones in my ears that led to nothing. But come to think of it, since nothing was missing but my CD player, I probably just dropped it somewhere. I likely wasn’t mugged at all. Billy and Nico had come out to celebrate the Marvel job along with Nico’s sister Katherine, some of Billy’s poetry cohorts, and my long absent Florida drinking buddy, Allen. After two manhattans, two martinis, and two beers each, Billy and I had cut ourselves off somewhere in the East Village, where I finally made it to Rififi for “Trash NYC,” which was surprisingly less impressive than a Monday in Gainesville. The kids just didn’t put much effort into their hair. Seems I may have to venture into Brooklyn to be properly impressed, but in the meantime Billy and I gained some admirers while dancing on stage in front of a projected West Side Story. “Yes,” I told one girl at the bar, “as a matter of fact, I *am* on Myspace.” Of the rest of the night, all that remains is Billy swiping my breadstick money for cab fare, which I guess was only enough to get us to the subway; trying to read Ex Machina #5 in the station; being told to get off the train when we’d passed out and missed our stop by some 40 blocks; similarly being told by a cleaning crew that we couldn’t sleep on the floor of the subway station; the bit where Billy held up the exposed plug of my headphone wire; and then the relative comfort of his bathroom floor. All told, it took us two hours to make it back from the club. Egads. The next night we opted to go without alcohol to see the Faint, but it made for no less of an eventful night. After thrilling to the greatness that is TV on the Radio, Nico and I spent much of our time shielding the diminutive Katherine from some of the more enthusiastic dancers. “Enthusiastic” is a euphemism for coked up, kids, and by “shielding” I mean that Nico kept shoving people while I tried to bounce about without getting knocked into the poor girl. It wasn’t the set list I would have chosen (though I’m sure I would have thrilled to “Erection” if only I’d retained a twelve year old’s sense of humor) but there were some great high points, and one of the more “enthusiastic” ladies grabbed me by the tie and locked groins with me during the Talking Heads cover. Now, I like the Talking Heads about as much as I like a lady’s groin, but it made for a fun few minutes. The coat check was a disorganized mess that surely would have motivated the hipsters to riot, were hipsters liable to ever be moved to action. Instead some of them threw around that “faggot” word I’m so fond of, until the coat check supervisor managed to calm us down with the harrowing tale of how he’d dodged bullets in the Middle East so that we could enjoy the freedom to grind with drug-addled strangers on a heaving second-story dance floor while our bags and coats were thrown in a heap in the basement for three dollars (plus tip). It reminded me a lot of that time outside of Denny’s when Brandon mooned the three guys in the jeep, except with less gratuitous nudity. Oh, Brandon. Were we ever so young? Katherine and I ended up separated from Billy and Nico, and when we took a wrong turn at the ground-level 80s prom, we found ourselves trapped on the impossibly dense basement hip hop dance floor. Jay-Z was blaring, and as we crisscrossed through the mob in pursuit of misplaced exit signs, I found myself thinking, “If it weren’t for DJ Eric’s keenly self-conscious appreciation of hip hop, I’d be even more disoriented than I already am!” After that, I bloody well went home to bed, and was surprised to enjoy the first lucid dream of my life. I was even more surprised that, with complete control over my dreaming experience, I chose sex over flying. His name was Steven. He was taller than me, looked a bit like Zack, but he wore glasses and worked part-time in a comic store. I was the top. Didn’t rouse from that until nearly two in the afternoon. After getting on the wrong train and ending up in Queens, I eventually made it for dinner at Billy and Nico’s. Billy made fish with a rich sauce that involved coffee, but he burnt himself pretty badly, then burnt the breadsticks that were meant to replace those I’d wanted to buy on Friday night. I ate one anyway, but stabbed my gums on the burnt crust and bled for a bit. Nico, who was already frantic over the ceaseless hiss of the radiator, wondered allowed if anything else could go wrong. “I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!” he exclaimed. But we managed a calm end to a frantic weekend, eating pie, gossiping for a spell, and then reading poetry until it was time for bed. | | Wednesday, October 13th, 2004 | | 8:18 pm |
Holy @$#*%, Batman!
So I guess I really shouldn't celebrate until I've signed the contract but... Marvel's taking me on as a freelance editor. It's only 10 or 15 hours a week, but the pay is embarrassingly good, and my entire job consists of (a) reading, evaluating, and responding to all unsolicited submissions and (b) scouting new writing talent outside of the industry. This could be the most amazing and significant moment of my life. After today, everything changes. (Was moving to New York the right choice, or what?!) So if you ever wanted to publish with Marvel, I guess I'm your go-to guy. |
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