batmanuel

June 25, 2013 4:11 pm I have this worm inside me; her name is Gee. Or more correctly, she was a worm. Back when we first met. It was a pretty awkward introduction. Me staring down at her from between my legs, while she wiggled and echoed from somewhere invisible inside the toilet bowl. I had just been sent home from a summer bible-camp for our church choir. My voice had just broken and the shrill, unpredictable sounds now coming from me had no place in the choir’s bi-lingual harmonies reserved for big events and recording studios. I came home embarrassed, my parent's god no longer needing my voice. My anxiety over the shameful return home had lead to some untimely diarrhea. As I sat there, crapping myself with the bathwater taps turned full, trying to disguise the noise, I looked down to notice the strange looking tail, quickly trying to wipe it off. "Don't do that," Gee said. It's a hard thing to swallow, realizing there is this other thing that lives inside you. I blocked her out for years, kept clenching tight and ignoring her calls. Low and humming, traveling up synapses and spinal fluid, reverberating off vital organs. In that naivety, aided by the damp soft darkness of my belly, Gee was able to grow, eventually blossoming into the pit viper she is today. Sometimes, looking in the mirror, I can catch her swimming past some place behind my eyeballs, her dark scales reflecting for a second, in the white lights of my Sclera. Needles to say Gee runs the joint these days. The inside of me at least. Outside, I am still polite, well mannered. I have a comfortable life. I don't make waves and am left alone happily. But some days, that hissing rings in my ears and my gut tightens as Gee coils herself around my small intestine, squeezing to get my attention, baring her fangs and rattling her tail, spitting venom onto my guts until my IBS sets in and I’m forced to lock myself in the bathroom again, with the taps on full. I keep breaking her hold; sometimes by negotiating, other times I make idle threats or drink too much, booze then coffee, more booze. Anything to distract the higher faculties. Anything to keep her from getting my attention. Of course, I could always nut up, reach into the darkness and grab her by the head, make sure to clench her mouth shut as I wrestle her out and toss her off something, maybe a bridge, or into a river far away from my house. Will I ever have the courage, to do what needs to be done? To dig inside, to rip her from me, or can we just go on, me running things outside, gee holding onto the in? Is that the life I want to live? And once she’s out, will I finally see, my friend, or my enemy?

June 14, 2013 7:02 pm Anyone else find the product placement in the film incredibly jarring? It's not usually something that sticks out for me, but man it left me feeling dirty.

May 24, 2013 6:48 pm that's an exhaustive list @JamesSime. Hell, if you can find the likes of a Darwyn Cooke in Nova Scotia then anything is frikkin possible. I'd love to see more stores do artist events (not necessarily signings, which i think have limited appeal), but more interactive things like comic workshops or panels. I know Isotope does these, but would love others to follow. There's no school for comics like ye olde' comic shop!

May 13, 2013 5:53 pm I wonder, roughly, what the minimum order number is for an image book to get cancelled?