| [from the desk of Stickboy]
autumn in new york - avec stickboy! i am risen... announcing the triumphant return of pretty sure after a hiatus of 3+ years. did you miss me? i missed you like crazy. mille grazie to the fine and fair-minded gentlemen of olios, a new online magazine available 24 hours everyday at www.oliosonline.org, where you can spend hours and hours in the thrall of my new and legendary adventures. click on the "pretty sure" link on the home page, and it'll escort you directly to my new strip(s) and the comfusion review archives. print 'em, share 'em, swap 'em, trade 'em - collect 'em all. did i say new? oui, mes amis. "stickboy de los muertos", my halloween 2006 strip, is now available, soon to be followed by future fan favorites, including "dated a clown" and "the $100,000 bowl of shit". call it a comeback, call it a resurrection, call your friends and shout into that little tiny spot on your cell phone through which you imagine your voice must travel to be heard - "stickboy is back!" you may also feel free to send along this email - across the universe, as the song goes. it's a salsa step on seventh avenue, now, the baltic glamor of brighton beach, new jersey and its ghost cities, the kids with their acoustic guitars and the singalong beatles songbook at strawberry fields...the leaves are crisp and my heart is as bouyant as ever, and damp, on account of this accursed humidity. sure, it snows in buffalo in october, but will it dip below 60 in midtown? the buildings queue up, tall, taller, tallest, like a stepstool to the stars. what's in a name? here's a brief description of olios, in the hope that you'll make it your favorite stop on the Internet: "Olios is a miscellany, a co-habitation of various artistic, literary, and ideological views that articulate an in-depth discussion within both the popular and alternative culture. Too often the presentation of a particular web site, blog, or print venue is encapsulated within a single viewpoint or ideology. Left alone, that singular vision grows stale and repetitive, losing its impact when it's never challenged. Where's the fun in that? It's a monotone, mumbling into the wind. Why read something when you know what to expect? Diversity is the buzzword for today's cultural climate, but rarely does its definition include intellectual diversity. For instance, college campuses preach diversity, but too often get lost in the racial backdrop. It's like the old joke: "Diversity means a black communist, a latino communist, a lesbian communist..." You get the idea. We recognize the potential for social and ideological conflict. Our aim is to present divergent views with the intent to get past polarizing rhetoric. We approach current affairs from a comparative perspective and examine each topic within its social context—historical and present—in an attempt to dislodge the slogans and empty clichés that account for most of today’s public and populist dialogue. But we're more than just a voice in the socio-political debate. We're also about music and the current climate of the indie scene. And about books, new and old in a wide range of genres. Plus the occasional deconstruction of film. Olios forges the idea that our current and future cultural transactions provide the occasion to discuss their human context. We aren’t here to “preach to the choir.” With a reasoned approach to familiar topics, Olios will split the line between affirmation and the sweet glimmer of disagreement". that about says it all, i think. what else do you need to know? we're slaving away at a myspace page, planning more strips and perhaps, ultimately, finally, a new comic book, "cafe bleu, l'histoire d'romance", which i've been promising since 1999 - it's not the drawing that wears me out, but the constant erasing, then the vacuuming and dusting that must of course follow. is it just me, or is this century just racing by? watch this space for further announcements and, as always, a surfeit of bonhomie. even god needs a smoke and a drink. sits up in heaven, counts it on his fingertips. shaking his head, thinks, this is it? the world is an inefficient place - dogs rarely get along with cats, women wear heels and cannot run, no one can afford the going rate. we sleep through train stops while abandoned tires float in swamps beside the tracks like crocodiles. i am alone and prone to sadness, devoured by the practicalities. but i'm delighted to stroll up broadway and browse the booksellers' tables, to return home with nothing but the afternoon: i lie in bed at my open window, ski cap down low on my brow - sinatra spinning on the CD player - writing small riddles to myself. i eargerly await your reply. j'suis, |