dexfarkin

What have I been doing for the last five weeks, while not posting in my journal, being on-line much, and seeing sobriety from the other side only? Well kids, come inside and I’ll tell you all about my twisted journey into the summer. It’s only mostly depressing and almost totally non-fiction.

As I mentioned, I traveled up to Marathon with my father to attend the funeral of my grandmother. Turns out that Finns are as hard to kill as the Russians found, and she was still holding on when we arrived. I had mentioned to my father that I was happier to be able to say goodbye rather than remember her ceremonially.

Let me say that rarely have I been this completely and totally wrong on something. You ever walk into the room of someone who your last memory is as an active, vibrant person and get confronted with a jaundiced, pained looking lump in a bed, made unrecognizable by vast doses of morphine, to the point that she wouldn’t recognize you if you took a brick to her fingers? Next time, I’m waiting for the funeral.

On the not suicidally depressive side, Marathon is a gorgeous example of Northern Ontario. Specifically, an area of the harbour that juts out directly into Lake Superior is my favourite. One of the things I’ve always loved is the smoothness and the fluid texture of the stone on the water. The shore is in a constant state of flux, as the level of the lake creates new lagoons, ponds and connections between the stones.

This link should lead you all there.

http://pics.livejournal.com/dexfarkin/gallery/00007cya

After returning to Toronto for seven days of lunatic arranging, I went down to California. Frito and Twiller very generously offered to bring me down to the San Diego Comic Con as a gift to help try and pick me up a bit. First off, huge thanks to the both of them.

Anyone who knows me knows that I hate cons. Ironic, since I run one, but still. Most cons are a mixture of crowds, fans, and flea markets; three things I absolutely loathe. The ones that I have been to, including large beasts like GenCon, have all fit into the same category of masses of fans shoving and bleating, between five hour lineups for autographs from the guy who was in charge of William Shatner’s girdle during the original Star Trek series and some twit dressed in a pink Wookie costume.

SDCC was all of that. Stormtrooper Elvis, Sailor Bubba, the guy who played Boomer in the original Battlestar Glactica, too many fat pirates, 134 thousand people going through the floor in one day. Kinfe fights between fans over who’s dragons would win, Anne MacCaffery’s or George R.R Martin’s. Alright, the last might be a slight exaggeration.

However, in the midst of all that, there were some amazing things that I had never experienced at a con, and ending up making the entire experience both fun and very rewarding. First off, the Con itself is a very remarkable entity. I have never, and this includes massive industry conventions that have eight digit budgets and a half a billion dollars in business on the floor, been to a con so efficiently and effectively organized. Yeah, I know. I went to the biggest geek singularity on the planet and got horny over the flow chart. Fuck off.

Almost a third of a million people went through that con in five days, with massive tables of merchandise, all manner of celebrities, and barely any security. Panels were on-time, delays and cancellations well communicated long before the deadlines, remarkably fast and smooth lines. More importantly, the bulk of the floor is dedicated to the comic market itself. Not the dealers or the big publishers, but also the small press. That con, with the numbers and the name could easily charge and receive fifty dollars a square foot for booth space, and make a fortune. Instead, to access an audience of a third of a million, it costs you three hundred bucks for the weekend for a small booth. That is amazing forethought, people. It focuses the con for the industry, as opposed to the secondary (and far more profitable) merchandizing. The board running that con are amazingly intuitive about what the beast really is.

The other thing was most impressed with were the panels. Again, well run, interesting, well organized access into all manner of things. I avoided the big movie panels, because I hate big lines, but I did squeeze into a lot of other smaller industry ones. Listening to Marv Wolfman, Tom DeFalco, and Steven Grant talk about the process of modern comic scripting, hearing the upcoming Vertigo plans from the EIC and all of the talent, hearing Joe Q field questions, it’s an amazing window into the industry, which is basically unduplicated in any other field. The casual nature of the creator/fan relationship on the floor was equally fantastic. Seeing actors and writers talk openly to fans, and fans, for the most part, respect the individual space and time of the actors and writers is remarkable.

The number of people that I met was a little staggering. I talked to Joss Whedon and Stan Lee on the floor near booths. I got to gush at Tim Bradstreet and mention how I’ve been following his work for fifteen years. I got some helpful pointers from Shelley Bond, a Vertigo editor in charge of Fables. I met Neal Adams, my very first artist obsession when I was eleven and trying to draw like everyone else. I traded rude jokes with Mr Skullhead, spent time with Bernie Burns and the other guys from Red vs Blue. All of it in a really casual fashion. That was what I enjoyed about the con.

People asked me if I’d go back, and right now my answer is ‘not without purpose’. It was fun, more so, it was a fantastic learning experience. But to go back, I’d need either a complete booking of panels or a booth from which I’m selling. I’ll have to get to work on that.

Also, I got to me Hawk for the first time. Dressed as Gilly, the Perky Goth. Life continues surreal.

The main reason for going down to California was to see JB. In a very brief recap, Jenna and I dated for almost five years before issues with seasonal depression forced her to return to California. It also basically ended our relationship. Because it didn’t end due to unhappiness or fault on either of our parts, letting go was a lot harder than I thought.

Due to my unemployment and finally having my debts under control, I had been in the unique position of being able to actually entertain thoughts of making major life changes if need be. One of those possibilities could have been moving to California for Jenna. I went down and spent three days at her house, where we got a chance to talk face to face for the first time in months.

We came to the conclusion that we simply were going in two different directions now, and my moving down there for her would make me as unhappy as her staying up here for me. Eventually, we’d end up blaming each other, and destroy any happiness. Actually, it was more her pointing this out and me forced to face it as opposed to hiding from it like a coward like I’ve been doing for ten months.

Now, despite feeling like I’ve had my heart torn out and shown to me, I at least have a sense of closure. The ability to deal with the fact that it’s over and start repairing my own headspace. I plan to be a wreck for the next little while, but it needed to happen eventually. Where I’m lucky is that I had Jenna for it, who is not only one of the most amazing women I’ve had the privilege to know, but also tried her best to make this sensitive for both of us, and not just what she wanted. I can’t think of anyone else who would put up with my shit in as patient and saintly a manner as her.

I returned to Toronto a day before DexCon started for the ninth time. Scheduling is obviously not my strong point. I hit the ground running by picking up Pebblin at the airport, returning to the apartment to drop off my luggage before throwing myself into the Griffin where everyone was waiting. This process didn’t change for several days.

Now, I have an actual breakdown of the con on the way for the DexCon community, so I won’t go through all the various details here. However, it was a successful year. Despite problems with the venue, everyone seemed to have a good time, and we had a fun mix of people here. There was a nice number of new people mixed in with the old regulars, and I think everyone drifted around long enough to meet each other.

Nute showed up, after his lengthy bitching about the con over the last year, which made me entertained. Plus, I got him back by making him look like a palsy victim trying to play Halo 2. Boy got corpsehumped more than the characters of a DeSade novel. It was good to see him back.

Minisinoo made it, which is always a kick. For those who have never sat down with her, it’s like forcing your way into a bubble of personality and letting it wash over you. Much more relaxed and accessibly this year too, and was a lot of fun.

We added Phil, but he I will speak of later. Chicago, who people in Etobicoke could hear when she was having fun. Also won for coolest tattoo ever. Jenn, a friend of Min’s who was an intriguing kick to listen to. Philomel, a two year cancellation who managed to make the Saturday workshop and turned out to be both a cool lady and a very good writer. We had a run by from Talktooloose, a another friend of Min’s during the Saturday as well.

Formal, my own version of Nerd Prom, went off well, and of course I only got pics of that. My camera is cleavage powered.

http://pics.livejournal.com/dexfarkin/gallery/00008dp1

Johnny Devil and the Screamin’ Demons played Monday at the Griffin. Not only was it both endlessly humourous to watch everyone lose their shit at the band, but he cracked out all the new songs he’s been working on. Enter Sandman brought Jim Smith out to headbang to the point that the bar owner was asking if he was having a fit. Hence, why he officially wins DexCon. Also, my good friend Brian, the original Funky White Boy, sold my ass down the river and hauled me up with him. Here’s the thing. Brian can dance. Bryant looks like a stroke victim in an earthquake. Fortunately, the records of that are mercifully short.

Many people decided to hang around for a few days after the con, going out on Tuesday to see the band yet again at the Griffin. What can I say, they’re really good. Many converts. At this point, I’ve been drinking steadily for about eight days.

We ended up doing a Pretty Night and taking Sascha to Joe Badali’s for her birthday, which was lovely. Interesting mixed group of survivors by that point. There was a lot of cleaning, sitting, trading comics before hitting the bar and staying there for prolonged periods. I ended up doing a gaming session on Saturday, while kicking out the rest of the non-gamers with Disa to wonder around. During this time, my bedroom ceiling began gushing water from the morons upstairs. On the plus side, my somewhat violent response to it got the landlord’s attention enough to issue an eviction notice to them.

On Sunday, a group of us trooped down to London for the RibFest, which Disa had mentioned being willing to kill each and every one of us to reach. Like the rest of the con, I had succumbed to the Norwegian Death Flu, making the car sound like a consumptive’s sick wagon all the way to London. In my delirium, I came to the conclusion that all we had to do way kill Sascha to lift the curse, like killing the Master Vampire. Fortunately, I was restrained and then sedated with barbeque sauce.

We got back Monday, losing Jenn but getting back in time for a final pissup in the Griffin with Phil. Johnny came out, and Rossi brought her guitar, so we managed to start up impromptu music at the table. Phil and I closed the place out, before finally staggering home. The next day he was off, leaving Sascha in our care. One more band night, and then home to a mostly empty apartment.

At that point, I was on day 16 of the booze. Even for an accomplished drinker, I had finally had enough, spending the last few days blissfully alcohol free. I think I can feel my organs slowly shifting back into their original positions. I remember, through an alcoholic haze, Phil says in a quiet, glum tone ‘I think I might have had enough for a while’ while looking at his pint. It had been that kind of streak.

And so that’s what I’ve been doing. I’m now home, taking a quiet couple of weeks on the way to my thirtieth birthday. Trying to get my head, my life, and my shit together and figure out what’s up for the next decade or so.

Maybe I could use that drink after all…