Things have been relatively bustling in my living room at TIWCM HQ lately. For APE last weekend, I made a lil’ quarter-sized, 24 page self-obsessed mini-comic about my favorite shoes (pictured: page one) and, in typical TIWCM fashion, table-squatted with the thing rather successfully. I swear that one of these days I will pay to play. Stumptown, perchance? Good news: that leaves nearly six months for a couple other stories, including the long FNB situation. Oh, plus my return to regular civilization.

Bad news: the entire miniscule “lit” comics industry may very well have collapsed in upon itself in a small, self-contained haze of inflated egos and semi-toxic inks by that point. Tom Spurgeon shares his cynical old-man wisdom on the subject.

For every new exhibitor at SPX putting their creativity on paper in order to share it with a couple of hundred fellow travelers, two young Hollywood functionaries descend on San Diego for the first time looking for idiosyncratic projects with a hook by which they get to justify their place on payroll.

Me, I’m just happy to get some really sweet deals on my print runs from my friend Henry down the street. Because print shops, those are definitely depression recession-proof…