Now, while no one’s looking—
Sunday July 22, 2007
“You make a fine pornographer,” she said to him; “You have mastered the mathematics of lust, but I feel yours is still the utopia of burlesque shows and what-the-butler-saw machines. There is progress to be made here, but…” (Forgive the emphasis. It’s in the ink, you see.) “…something is missing from your equations and catalogues. Perhaps you still need time to understand what that something is before you unleash DeSadeland on the hoi polloi.”
I am not back because I never left, not in any way that’s meaningful to me. And on the one hand it seems like the world has never needed something like this enterprise more than it does now, and on the other? I am tired, and there is so much else to do, and the pose grows old.
Grant Morrison thought the comic book he wrote in the mid-’90s would be a spell to help bring on whatever new age was coming. Looking around from within the midst of what he thought would be the end, I’ve got to say: next time, mate, send a bloody telegram. Eh?
Well, then I’m delighted to see you not-back. I’m very sorry I didn’t get back to you with the thing and the stuff in time. There was things and stuff and lack of internet connectivity and thirty-one flavors of poly drama. Powell’s continues to rock my socks, though.
— Vinnie Tesla Aug 4, 08:33 PM #
I was reading Matt Fraction’s afterword to Casanova #8, and it occured that with a simple transposition, “comics writer” becomes “cosmic writer”. With great power comes great responsibility, eh?
— Fondly Abtruse Sep 1, 09:45 PM #