Welcome to my fancy new site. It is a weird thing to now own space in the virtual world, after a decade+ of relying on the god-forsaken social networks to host and promote my wee doodles. There is a part of me that’s ashamed for the arrogance compelling me to legitimize myself as an artist like this (that same part is lamenting about all the drugs I could have bought with the money I’ve invested here.) However, the vast majority of my conscious self is relieved for the opportunity to create and share at my own pace, free from the obligatory burdens that come with social networking. I can’t wait to start as quickly as possible never hearing or pretending to care about anyone’s shit ever again! Hooray!
You, of course, who I assume harbor normal, healthy levels of regard and consideration for your fellow human beings (if you didn’t than why would you still be reading this?) might be wondering what I’m up to, worker-cartoonist-bee that I am? Surprise! I am up to not much! Mostly I’m living a quiet life in semi-seclusion and bouncing between two major comic projects: NSFW, my porn variety comic, and DOZER MANIFESTO, my graphic novel about Marv Heemeyer. Y’know, the Killdozer guy? Y’know, the book I’ve been working on for the last ten fucking years, which is only about 2/3 complete?
Fuuuuuck… I’ve TRULY been working on the latter for a decade. What the fuck is up with that? Where’s the old Mister V, the jittery, pissed-off workaholic who made a graphic novel a year? Remember that shit, when all I’d do was get wasted and piss people off and make bazillions of comics? Motherfucker done fell off, am I right? Dude, that is TOTALLY what happened! I fell right the fuck off! I’m still off! I might be off until my dying-fuckin’-breath, and then some!
They call it PTSD, and apparently I’ve got an extreme case of it. Like, Barbed-Wire-Death-Match-on-a-daily-basis extreme. It’s funny, in a way, ‘cause I’ve spent most of my life believing the instances of physical/emotional/sexual abuse that peppered my life like a well-seasoned steak just rolled right off me, like water on a duck. Nope! I absorbed it all, like a sheet of TP on the sticky soggy bathroom floor!
This PTSD diagnosis was given to me after something of a nuclear mental meltdown, caused in part by working on DOZER MANIFESTO. After a year of unpleasantly intense therapy I learned a lot about myself and others. For instance, did you know that most people don’t live in a constant state of fight/flight/freeze? Or that not everyone has night terrors, or flashbacks, or disassociation episodes? Also, supposedly your average citizen doesn’t have freaky drop-of-a-hat violent rage-filled panic attacks? Who knew? Not me, but I love to learn!
I also know now that PTSD is responsible for all those bazillions of comics I previously made. In the past I was able to take that hyper-vigilance, that perpetual state of waiting for terrible fucked up shit to happen, and channel it onto the page. Sitting in contemplative alertness for hours, days, weeks, years on end, forcing limitless panic energy out of my body through pen and paper, it’d be an impressive feat if it weren’t so alarming, This is one of many ways in which making comics almost certainly saved my life. What would I have done with all that misplaced rage and terror had I not willed it into art? I don’t want to explore the answers to that question, as all of them are dark and bloody and tragic. In case it needs saying, I am no longer hyper-vigilant, and my productivity suffers for it. Better it than me.
Learning further, supposedly I’m not the only person on the planet who struggles with this shit. I’ve been assured there are many folks out there who have survived clusterfuck misfortune and now wander the world with horrific mental injuries, and they too have absolutely no fucking idea how fucked they are. Look at the homeless guy screaming nonsense at passing cars, or the habitual sex offender serving a life sentence, or the soon-to-be mass shooter purchasing his firearm of choice. What’s the difference between myself and them? Not a whole hell of a lot! There but for the grace of God go I, and there for the grace of God went Marv.
That shit’s why DOZER MANIFESTO isn’t finished yet. In all my meticulous research, I discovered that Marv’s humanity looked a lot like my own, which was in no way a good thing. Writing this now, I consider myself to be in a healthy place, or at least as close to healthy as I can get. When I write about Marv, when I put myself in his shoes, it takes me back to that unhealthy place. If I value the progress I’ve made, and I do, it’s a bad idea to stay in that place for long. Mind you, I’m not AFRAID of staying there. That unhealthy place is where I’ve lived for almost all of my life. I like it there. If I stay too long, I might get comfortable and not want to leave. Nothing good will come from that.
That’s where NSFW comes in. When writing about Marv starts bringing me down, I make a few porn comics and my mental health bounces back. For my money, nothing soothes the savage beast like dick jokes and naked ladies. Sometimes I only work on these things for a few days, sometimes it’s a few months. During this period my overall productivity once again suffers, but in exchange I start feeling like my “normal,” “healthy” self again. This is another thing I learned in therapy. It’s a strange new concept called “self-care,” where I do kind things for myself instead of consuming unpleasantness and pain until I fucking implode. It’s an awkward concept but it somehow works, and whatever at least there’s boobies.
For anyone wondering what the goddamn holdup is with this book, now you know. The old me worked hard. The new me works smart. I do my best, my absolute best, and do what I can, when I can, but I’m no longer willing to work at the expense of my overall wellbeing. My love of comics has not diminished, nor has my drive to make them, nor my appreciation for your attention to my creations (not to mention your patience.) I just try to love myself as much as I love working on my art.
So welcome to the new website, and welcome to the new me. Let’s make some comics at a new, normal, healthy pace.