2003-07-19 7:08 p.m.
San Diego sashay

The sun's setting reflection covers the buildings down the street here in downtown San Diego. D's asleep on one bed, Jeremy's in the loo, and we're all pausing before our last night of convention madness.

It hasn't been all that mad, not really. I'm constantly shocked at the positive reception STYX has been getting, though...everyone's got nothing but love for this book. It's warm and comes in enough small doses so as not to be overwhelming.

I've met a few celebrities along the way, comics folks mostly (with the exception of JMS and a brush with Walter Koenig (Chekhov on Star Trek, Bester on Babylon 5)...but mostly D and I have spent our time on old friends (Dino, Bob Fingerman), new ones (Craig Thompson, Duncan Fegredo, and a gent who works for Britain's TRIPWIRE)...we spent the night smoking up and talking Artaud, movies, the future of comics, and fucked-up sex trivia like an old-fashioned herpes test.

The air here keeps washing over me with breaths of anticipation, as though I'm standing on the verge of some kind of explosion. Maybe it's a false instinct, maybe it's wishful thinking. But too many people are giving me unusual vibes about this book, a willingness to check it out when they'd never give a nobody a shot (least of all some kid with his first self-published book, no matter how good it looks).

I'm hoping we can get D locked into something new in the process. He needs some encouragement from the world, that's for sure. He deserves it more than most, the hardworking tosser.