“A woman came up to me and said
‘I’d like to poison your mind
With wrong ideas that appeal to you,
Though I am not unkind’
She looked at me I looked at
Something written across her scalp
And these were the words that it faintly read
As I tried to call for halp:
‘THERE’S ONLY ONE THING THAT I KNOW HOW TO DO WELL
AND I’VE OFTEN BEEN TOLD THAT YOU ONLY CAN DO WHAT YOU KNOW HOW TO DO WELL
AND THAT’S BE YOU
BE WHAT YOU’RE LIKE
BE LIKE YOURSELF
AND SO I’M HAVING A WONDERFUL TIME BUT I’D RATHER BE
WHISTLING IN THE DARK
WHISTLING IN THE DARK
WHISTLING IN THE DARK
THERE’S ONLY ONE THING THAT I LIKE AND THAT IS WHISTLING IN THE DARK”

So after the move I found a shoebox I hadn’t looked in for about a thousand years, which turned out to contain comics I’d drawn dating all the way back to junior high! (The ones drawn before that were lost to the four winds, sadly. I’m sure they were adorable.)

Here is a scene from a religion assignment in, I think, maybe grade nine or ten:

From this you can tell that
a) My preferred medium has been wax crayon for the past two and a half decades, and
b) If I hadn’t put it off till the last minute I might not have had to rip my assignment DIRECTLY off the movie about St. Francis of Assissi that we watched in class. Why didn’t I just write an essay?!

Here is one from a later comic, undated, but I had around ten comics each about two pages long detailing the early years of Death. (It has always seemed obvious to me, as I assumed it was obvious to everyone except Terry Pratchett, that if you really had to anthropomorphize the physiological process of death, it would be female.)

Yes, I only had three Pantone markers left out of the package of two dozen at that point. No, I don’t know where the rest went. Where do they go? When my brother started his industrial design degree I bought him some Pantones, one of those selection sets (I think it was ‘Cool Metal’ or something). Within two months he only had three markers left. Pantone markers love to be lost. It is their favourite hobby. Luckily the world of Death was a somber one suited to those three remaining pens.

Here’s another one, from a totally different Death comic.

It’s funny, there are so many incredibly detailed comic storylines in my desk (some of which have moved from the ‘Frame 3: they stand in the doorway’ stage into full-fledged short stories and, in some cases, novels), but I don’t draw comics any more. The Death ones are all from years and years ago. My ‘Timmy the Enzyme’ comic series is from at least 1998 or 1999; the ‘Lifesticks’ series is even older. But there’s no output. I doodle sometimes in meetings, is about all. I have all these ideas tumbling over each other in my head like a basketful of kittens and yet… nothing on the page. Maybe that’ll change. I’m really pleased with some of these older series and don’t see why I can’t resurrect them.

Whoa. Just… whoa.

Fascinating, talented, beautiful, creative… oh, but also NSFW.

I am so going to buy this book.