DRIBS, WITH A DASH OF DRAB

The parents called last night but didn't leave a message, which makes me think I'm probably overdue to blog about...something. Mum seems to worry when I'm not doing the digital equivalent of standing on a street corner screaming incoherent gibberish at random passersby. It's how she knows I'm...well, not OK, exactly, but at least more or less the same as I was last time we talked.

The problem is, I don't really have much of a desire to blog right now. The stuff I'd like to talk about here I just don't have the time or energy to get into in any kind of worthwhile depth. So it's hit and run time...

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YOU HAVE MEHMEL

Calgary writer Jason Mehmel is doing everything he can to get his blog numbers up. And I mean everything, including asking if I'd mention it here. Which I've no problem doing, but I still find mildly amusing, as I generally work under the assumption that no one who didn't give birth to me actually reads this thing. And I'm pretty sure even Mum just skims it. Anyway, if you've got some time to kill--and if you're reading this, you do--you might want to check out the Mehmelblog.

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BECAUSE YOU REALLY CARE: WORK-FOR-HIRE COMIC PROJECTS I'D LIKE TO DO SOMEDAY & THE PEOPLE I WANT TO DO THEM WITH

FANTASTIC FOUR. I was originally going to say I wanted to do it with Mike Allred, but while he's definitely got a Kirby vibe going on, I'm not sure he'd want to deal with the way out cosmic feel I'd likely be going for with the project. Maybe Bruce Timm.

AQUAMAN, with Bill Sienkiwicz. Because it's dark, cold, and really kind of creepy that far underwater.

VAMPIRELLA, with Fiona Staples. Because Fiona wants to work on Vampirella and if I got to write it she'd be hard-pressed not to work with me again. Is it possible for writers to stalk artist collaborators?

DEADPOOL: ONE MORE POUCH, with Nick Johnson. To be followed up by the sequel DEADPOOL: BRAND NEW POUCH.

HELLBLAZER/DR. STRANGE, with Sean Phillips. Actually, I'd like to do almost anything that had Sean Phillips on art.

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STUFF & NONSENSE

Gilbert Bouchard is still missing. Damn it.

Big Hollywood Producer sent me notes on the last version of the screenplay. I had my standard response: freak out over how everything needs to be changed and seethe with fury over the dumb ideas I'm forced to deal with, then get on with changing the script to conform to the dumb ideas, then realize the ideas weren't really that dumb and the changes are overall for the good of the story, then resent having to do a bunch of work because I didn't have the not-that-dumb-after-all ideas myself.

The standard response would change dramatically if there was actually money involved. But there isn't, at least not yet.

We got a price quote for fixing (read as: "tearing off and rebuilding from scratch") the roof this morning. Ow.

A Canadian producer contacted PARTING WAYS artist Scott Mooney inquiring about the book. Unlike almost everyone else who's asked after the rights, this guy's actually gotten some stuff made, including what sounds like a nifty black comedy. It's not Hollywood, but it's close enough, so I'm going to assume absolutely nothing will come of this, but it's nice to think people other than Ty Templeton see something they like in the story, even after all this time out of print.

I haven't recovered from the Calgary Expo, much less Free Comic Book Day yet. Even if I was, the weather's grinding its heel into my face.

If you aren't already, will you be my friend?

Well, I tried, but there's just no way to put something like that previous sentence out there without looking pathetic. Fortunately, I'm used to looking pathetic.

Back to the grindstone. And by grindstone, I mean the couch in my office.

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