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November 14th, 2007



A comic?


Yeah, what would my life be like if it were a comic?

What kind of comic?

A superhero comic?


I don't think spandex is a thing for my body.

...


What?

I just got that spandex image in my head, man.

I'm going to need a fucking lobotomy.


Yeah, it's not pretty.

Maybe you could pull it off, though. A science fiction thing. Maybe that's what they think science fiction writers wear.


Two things:

Firstly, that's comic book writers—


Oh, yeah. Frank Miller and his Spiderman costume.

Forgot about that.


—And secondly, I don't write science fucking fiction.

Not this again.


I don't.

Fuck you.

You write weird shit, man, and what is weird shit? Science fucking fiction. Just 'cause there are no spaceships don't excuse you from the genre.


I keep telling you that spaceships are what make science fucking fiction science fucking fiction. If you're not referencing a spaceship at any point, you're not writing science fucking fiction.

You have such a complex about this.


I write weird shit. It's a fucking genre. Look it up.

You can't just make your own genre cause you feel like it.


People do that all the time, man. You should see authors make this shit up for no reason other than they don't like this or that label. It's like, one of the rules, or something.

That's bullshit.

Also, you also seem to be ignoring the fact that you live by yourself, you have no girlfriend, and you spend most of your time writing.


What's that got to do with it?

What kind of storyline would you have? Nothing? Even Seinfeld had something.

I mean, maybe if you were a fireman it'd be okay. It'd be exciting. I'd be behind it then. It'd be about saving people and putting out fires.


Maybe I could write a comic about becoming a fireman?

Really?


No.

Maybe a policeman.


It's not as glamorous as the TV, I'm sure.

Astronaut?


You think my year ten science would be enough?

Might need a few years of study I suppose.


I could always do that as a comic, though. Imagine: My life as an astronaut. I could put all the people I know in it. Like you, man. I could have this conversation in it. Sure, I could tweak it around for narrative purposes. Make it a bit more readable. Maybe change the word astronaut to cosmonaut. I kind of like that second one a bit more.

That'd be cool, man. We'd be fucking astronauts. I'd read that.

But, y'know, you won't do that.


No?

No.


You do a comic, it's just going to be like that shit you write, full of violence, confrontation, wank, swear words, and pictures of yourself fucking girls in the ass.


What are yo trying to say?

I'm trying to say a comic about you is not going to be about astronauts.


Back...

...And I am, yes, back. Jet lag is lurking round the corners and there's nothing in the fridge, so I have to go up the road in a second, otherwise it's not going to be pretty. I hope there's petrol in the car.

Anyhow, as promised while I was in LA, the first entry of Nowhere Near Savannah has kicked off, and it is setting up the premise for you all. The words by me, art by Anna Brown. It will run for 52 weeks, and if you've met me, you might indeed be in it.

I'm sure you've all missed me.