I write this to the nerve-wracking accompaniment of the early howls of New York City’s second annual hurricane (in an ongoing series of..?) A callous introvert the size of a subcontinent heaves itself right at us while, somewhat less ineluctably, the True Swamp books begin trucking their way from the South toward Uncivilized HQ. We’ll have them in plenty of time for their debut in Brooklyn.
After putting the big archival book to bed, I wrestled my mind back into the current frame and wrote the next bunch of new Swamp pages for myself to draw. The months spent on the old art have had a salutary effect, as I’ve recognized a couple of old threads which dovetail beautifully with some of my next plot turns.
Before proceeding to pencils, I paused to celebrate the impeding book launch with some minor throat surgery. Consider this an advance apology for the scar I’ll be sporting at the festival; it happens to be exactly the width of a Bowie knife blade, and you’re welcome to entertain fantasies of perilous adventure on my part if it puts you more in the mood to buy my stuff.
(But don’t worry about my financials too much. The main reason I spend 50 hours a week at a desk in the city writing emails to China is for the medical coverage. Of course, the day job also ‘insures’ that new True Swamp pages only flow out to you at a stately, modest, digestible pace. Imagine if you had to read a hundred twenty pages of this stuff a year! God bless America.)
I hate to say goodbye to October. It’s my favorite month– as a Minnesotan, could it be otherwise? All musics and proses are at their most beautiful while October obtains. The aforementioned day job took everyone to a retreat in the Poconos at the beginning of the month, where the leaves were already outrageous. Even the ferns were hot yellow. I finally saw Cedar Waxwings! Pure octane for me.
November, on the other hand, has always been a month of bad tidings in my experience. It takes a lot to make me wanna wave November through the stiles, but the prospect of seeing my first 200 pages of work in a god damned hardcover book will do the trick. Bring it.
Expect new pages here in a few days, starting with the unposted closing pages from True Swamp vol. 3 #2. Unless Brooklyn’s underwater, in which case I’ll be out and about with a sketchbook.