Best Comic Book Convention...Ever

Tony and I spent Saturday morning trolling the booths at the SPX, the small press expo, somewhere in the hinterlands of Maryland. I've never thought of myself as a "comic book guy." Shameless fanboy, perhaps. But comic books--while I understood how cool they could be--never really created any passion in me. This show changed my mind.

The floor was small but crowded. Almost every booth had a pile of objects to look through. Many were handmade or one-of-a-kind. Styles ranged from exquisite hand painted abstracts, to postmodern pen-and-ink cartoons. The artists were super friendly and everyone had a great story. (And by "great" I mean funny, weird, inspirational, and/or insane.)

I bought an autobiographical book called Shirtlifter from a supremely hot bear artist named Steve MacIsaac. He said it was more "artistic-y than pornographic-y." Having cruised through it last night, I guess he's correct. But it still plenty pornographic-y for me. I'm not sure I get the point of the whole thing, but I think that's commonplace among the small press people: Hold a magnifying glass up to the most arcane, commonplace, or otherwise invisible speck of reality (or surreality) and let it speak for itself.

On the way out, I bought a silkscreen of 16 little line drawings of the same dumpy little man in various states of dress.

I'll let that speak for itself, too.

PostSecret

PostSecret.org has been one of my favorite website/art installations for years. We had a chance to see Frank Warren, the artist behind the project, speak at a local bookstore. He's a very earnest, thoughtful, and apparently kind man, but I have to say his description of the project dimishes it a bit--just as one would expect any great work of art to eclipse its creator. There wasn't a lot of insight to be had, but we did get to see and hold a few actual secrets in our hands. That alone was worth the trip. There's surprising power in those little cards.

College Republicans: The Future of Ambivalent Sexuality

Max Blumenthal has a not-necessarily-enlightening video on HuffingtonPost detailing his infiltration of a College Republican conference in DC. The kids, of course, hang themselves on their own blind idiocy. Blumenthal, of course, makes a scene and gets thrown out. And crimes against logic rule the day.

However, there are three moments of sheer lunacy so utterly amazing and downright sad scary hilarious that it's worth sitting through the rest of the Michael Moore-isms.

In the first, old standby Tom Delay hits two liberal birds with one sharp conservative stone:

I content [abortion] affects you in immigration. If we had those 40 million children that were killed over the last 40 years we wouldn't need illegal immigrants to fill those jobs...Think about it.

In second, some poor misguided kid says the he wouldn't enlist because he might become "like a really good speaker and stuff like that." (Too many jokes. Brain about to explode.)

Finally, the same really good public speaker discusses conservatives' ongoing problems with gays--by first grudgingly admitting that we are citizens, and then by going off on a wild, probably unintential aside:

Everybody in their life has had [pause] inclinations [long pause] toward the [very long pause] um, same sex.

You can almost hear the disco in his panicked, twitchy speech. And it only gets worse. And my worse, I mean excellent.

100% Guaranteed Overheard: Rumors

At the Dupont Circle CVS, as "You Make Loving Fun" plays on the PA system.

Old Clerk: What is it? This Juice Newton, or something?

Young Clerk: [shrugs]

Me: It's Fleetwood Mac

Old Clerk: This isn't Stevie Nicks.

Me: It's Christine McVie.

Old Clerk: They have two singers?

Me: Three singers. Lindsey Buckingham is the other one.

Old Clerk: Ohhhh.

Young Clerk: [smirking] He told you!

For more eavesdropping fun, check out Overheard in New York.

Party Down

The husband and I went to a swell neighborhood cookout tonight. The weather could not have been nicer. We met some great guys and gals. Ate a million little brownies--thank you, Costco! Had one margarita. Got one mosquito bite. And only had to walk across the street to get some. Survey says: Perfection!

The Storker Project

Artist Mark Jenkins shows off his tape babies in DC, etc. Funny, creepy, and sad--at the same time.

Photography Banned in Rockville, Maryland

Still not convinced that creeping corporatism is a cancer? Read this. Then visit and take a picture.

Pet Peeves: Commuting

DC is home to one of the world's best subway systems. Metro is clean, safe, accessible, and relatively affordable. It's also a simmering hellhole of billious pet peeves. Let me count the ways.

1. Left over body heat on seats and handrails. Unfortunately also often accompanied by leftover body grease.



2. Slow people, lost people, rude people. There's a theme developing.



3. People who stop moving at the end of the escalator. I've read books on crowd control! I know what can happen!



4. Chatty tourist kids. We're going into a tunnel. I know. I KNOW!



5. Sarcastic riders. Whatever.

Pride 2007

This last weekend was Pride. And I was out in the streets, as always. I missed the parade for the first time in years. Volunteered at my job's booth on Sunday, ate a crab cake, and watched the men walk around. Delicious, all the way 'round.

A few observations:

The death of gay culture! There are always average looking gay folk at Pride, and have been for the 25 years I've attended. But this year was exceptional. The gym bunnies, club kids, and body fascists must be hibernating.

The death of gay culture? Freedom plaza was packed. Every year, Pride seems to get bigger and bigger. While the proliferation of mainstream corporate booths told the assimilation story, the fact that we still feel the need congregate in celebration adds the footnote.

The death of gay culture :( I only saw two drag queens and two leather men. Sad. I'm all for assimilation, but bitches and buttless chaps are nice, too. Just saying.