Cough.
You know, I wrote a post for here but my dog ate it.
I have actually had a go. There's two half-dones sitting as drafts, trees falling in the woods with no one around to read them. I gave up because I just don't like my voice at the moment. I can't honestly say that it is any more self-indulgent or miserablist than I've been before, I'm just in no mood to even hear myself like that. I'd rather not sound so and as a consequence I'm going to go on hiatus for a while.
I will eventually sound more like I want to. I know, because I want to sound different, if you follow my reasoning. When I feel like that, and I'm a bit more objective, I might publish the driftwood blogs as a little history lesson. Perhaps.
See, life and I have had a bit of a falling out and we need to come up with a better living arrangement.
LIFE
MONSTERWORK
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It will be settled by a big fight in a scrap yard, where car crushers, cranes and pools of hydrochloric acid are all in plentiful supply. You always wanted to fly, Monsterwork. Well now's your chance.
I'm angling for my life to be reset and for me to live in Italy in the Sixties, where I can howl like a Tex Avery cartoon at Sophia Loren and she won't mind one bit.
Need to de-clutter. Purge.
You know what I'm thinking of doing? Quitting comics.
I'm not sure if I should see some arcs out to the end and maybe settle on no more than five titles. Or simply stop now, right where I am and give up. And then trade-in the bulk of what I own.
Sure, I'll keep the TPBs and some complete sets. But just deep-six whatever else is hanging around. Restore some of that disposable income I don't have. Trade them with some paperbacks and plastic unwanteds in for vouchers and get some other paperbacks, some cds...I think the Notting Hill vouchers are good across all their branches so maybe even some paper can get splashed on a vintage polo shirt or something.
Way I feel right now, I'd rather have a good pair of sunglasses than find out who Red Hulk is and why Rick Jones is the Abomination. I guess it's like when I cut off my beard, or sold my Star Wars or stopped buying Playboy. I just come to an understanding. Maybe I'm selling out. I do think the £50-£75 I spend on monthlies is becoming habit rather than joy. I can't honestly say how the last issue of Avengers: Initiative ended. I think I can handle not knowing what comes next in Ultimate Human.
Might clear out more than that. I'm restless. Itchy.
So anyway, don't expect any noise on here for a good while. When I come back I'll herald it on the Facebook and the MySpace and if you actually know me as a skin and juice and hair person, then I might flap some words at you and you'll learn that way.
Ciao.
*Bang.
So I took all this.
Boxed it up like so...
...carried it to Notting Hill and they magicked it into £80.00's worth of store credit. Which I turned into this...
Sure. It's neither much, nor particularly dramatic. I had an image in my head of me buying a red lamp and a pair of vintage tortoise-shell shades and that being all my money right there. I did get a better price than I expected. But yeah, turning comic books into some TV series, a vintage shirt and a couple of paperbacks doesn't smack as being all that different. I guess not. But it does help me see how disposable some things are. I can afford to give up so much. I'm the king of clutter, but what for? Weirdly only a handful of the comics I sold were anything I would call bad. The Mighty Hercules and Avengers Initiative are two of the best ongoings Marvel have in print right now. I guess my issue (heh) is with the 'ongoing'. I've drawn a line and the stuff I've kept has starts and finishes or at least is within a few issues of a definitive conclusion. Which is why All Star Batman didn't get sold, but all of the last year or so of Captain America did. I did a re-read test. If I could remember what happened in an issue or series then I'm guessing it was either good or I read it more than once. If I couldn't, I ditched it.
I've lost enough this year. I feel like I can give the rest away and it won't matter. Somewhere free from all the accoutrements is a licorice stick thing called me and I want to see it and discover if it needs fixing. To find it, I need to move things around, so I can see what is me and what is my surroundings. That makes sense right?
No, I didn't get that out of a self-help book. I haven't even started it yet.
"a little discipline, rent an opinion..."
Cheerio.
3 comments:
Do it.
I've been there, where I bought so many titles I couldn't remember what happened in half of them from month to month. It was a duty and I started to derive no pleasure from it.
The stuff you really love you'll keep buying, because you'll still love it. The rest you won't miss. Stuff continuity. Just get the stuff you know blows your hair back.
But know this - if you sell it all at Notting Hill, you won't get all that much for it.
Adios.
Oh, I know. But even if it part exchanges me one-third of a retro overnight bag, a second-hand Xbox game or a fistful of Lawrence Block , I think that's all got more use in future than a run of Conan and GI Joe relaunch, a bunch of CDs I never give love to and anything else I dust off that looks bunk.
Or it can all get stashed at the folks with all the WildCATS and X-Force and others from when I last did this about 11 years ago.
i did a little research after you told me about your "thing", and if you want a way to make more money using your your blog you can enter this site: link. bye.
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