Thursday, September 30th

A NIGHT TO KIND OF REMEMBER:

Two hours after arriving in Bethesda, I was shit-faced. That early drunkenness was a trend that would continue throughout this year's Small Press Expo, where the best and the brightest comic creators come together every year to socialize, network, get hammered, and maybe sell a few comics.

I arrived on Thursday evening, armed with brand new issues of PLASTIC FARM and the bad-ass book, DOPE FIENDS OF THE ZOMBIE CAFE, in order to attend Big Planet's preshow party, which remains a big enough draw for some creators that they are willing to arrive in Bethesda an entire day early and shell out for a hotel room for an extra night. The atmosphere at Big Planet serves as a very welcome prologue to the convention itself with some amazing beer choices and great conversations.

This particular pre-show party was memorable for a number of reasons, but primarily for the fact that it was the same night as the first presidential debate (which Big Planet staffers were kind enough to play over the store's sound system). The conversations were evenly split between politics and comics, both with equal fervor and enthusiasm. I discussed the very nature of comic book shows with Batton Lash (Supernatural Law) and the failures of John Kerry's campaign with Frank Cammuso (Max Hamm). Really, the one unifying theme at Big Planet was the alcohol. I counted at least four different varieties of beer (none of which I had ever drank before, all of them great) and a decent amount of wine. In any other venue, this mixture of copious amounts of alcohol and political debate could have turned into something ugly...but this is Comics World, and everything was grand and happy.

Andy Runton Smiles Politely

Sometime around ten, but probably much later than that, the party at Big Planet split up into a few smaller room parties. I ended up sitting on the floor next to Andy Runton, who because I was sitting right next to him, is one of very few people who I specifically remember being there. (I probably bugged the crap out of him with my slurred drunken diatribes, so apologies to Mr. Runton.) This part of the evening is mostly a blur, and I'd like to thank those who helped to make it that way. You know who you are.

Yeah, I've been drinking...

Friday, October 1st

WAKING UP JUST TO GET DOWN:

Of course, when I woke up on Friday morning I was in no mood to be thanking anyone for any kind of inebriational substance that I had gotten my hands on. The sun was shining like the spotlight of God into my hotel room, focusing raw laser light intensity on the pounding like razor-blades behind my eyes. To add insult to injury, I had accidentally woken up three hours earlier than I had planned.

Apparently, the night before, I had tried to set the alarm clock while not technically being able to see. So, while I amazingly got the alarm set to the correct hour, I had also set the clock itself three hours ahead. I discovered this after an hour or so while watching Headline News and trying to figure out why it was only 4:30 AM out in California. So while that sucked, I decided that I would go down to breakfast and get some food into me (maybe absorb of of that booze that was still sitting heavy in my troubled belly), and set up for the show.

The first person I ran into outside the display rooms was Harris O'Malley. I was probably still too out of it to hold any sort of rational conversation, but it was still very good to see him again. We were only a table away from each other in the Montgomery Room, and we both had our problems in getting shit set up. Harris was having difficulty with an easel he had just gotten, and I was having problems with my brain refusing to work, so I went back to bed for a few hours.

(Elsewhere in the Montgomery room were the incredibly intelligent A David Lewis, the Ignatz winning Carla Speed McNeill, a slew of creators under the PopImage umbrella, and the awesome creative team of the Goldman brothers who were pimping their new EVERYMAN book.)

I awoke (again) an hour before the show was set to begin, and after putting on a nice shirt and tie, I headed downstairs. Matt and Carol Dembicki had arrived and were already set up, as were most of the other creators that I wanted to see. Matt and Carol were debuting a massive flip-book issue of ATTIC WIT, which dealt with various artists' interpretations of Heaven and Hell. The book looked absolutely fantastic, and it made me sad that I had been too busy in the previous year to contribute anything to the book.

See, I had been busy drawing DOPE FIENDS OF THE ZOMBIE CAFE and publishing PLASTIC FARM, so it wasn't like I didn't have any new comics of my own. In fact, I sold the first copy of DOPE FIENDS five minutes before the show officially opened. The selling of DOPE FIENDS would soon join the massive boozing as the second theme of the show.

AND SO IT BEGINS:

Friday at SPX is a strange day. The show begins at 3 PM and ends at 8, which means that there are a lot of people who cannot attend because they are at work, or have decided that attending the show for a only few hours is not worth the trip. This is not to say that this Friday was a slow day, as we sold enough copies of DOPE FIENDS and PLASTIC FARM to triple our take from 2003's Friday, which was nice.

While the show itself was great on Friday, it never really got to the point of overwhelmingly busy. The brief downtimes allowed me to take mini-tours of the show to pick up books from folks, providing that they were no more than 30 seconds away from my table. In hindsight, I should have taken greater advantage of the Friday downtimes to buy more books. I was behind the table by myself that first day however, and I (incorrectly) figured that Sunday would be my slow business buying day...but more on that later.

I ran into Damon Hurd and Rick Smith who were busy selling their excellent new book, TEMPORARY. Both Damon and Rick appear to be working a bit more experimentally with this one, to wonderful effect. (It's in the current Previews now, on the same page as Plastic Farm #8 actually, so you should pre-order both comics.)

Earlier in the day, I had taken a smoke break and met Pete Stathis and his friend Rafael unloading their car. I've reported in previous con reports about the coolness of Mr. Stathis, and the excellence of EVENFALL, so I will try not to repeat myself too much, other than to mention that you should all be reading EVENFALL.

FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS:

Now, my wife Nan was one of those people who could not get off work on Friday to attend the show. Besides me missing her, this led to a constant stream of people asking me where she was. It got to the point where I started getting paranoid that people were only coming by the table to see Nan. (Not that I don't realize this anyway, as she is able to outsell me any day.) So I was quite relieved when Nan arrived at the Holiday Inn just as the show was letting out, and folks were making dinner plans.

We met Damon, Rick, Pete, Rafael and a bunch of other folks (who, because of the alcohol that we would all soon be drinking, I have dim recollections of) down in the lobby and began making our dinner plans. Our plan for that evening turned out to be a quick trip to the liquor store, and a meal made of the free snacks provided by Quebecor. Looking back on the night, it might have been a better idea to get some real food, but what'cha gonna do?

We spent quite a while in the rapidly filling-up Piano Bar getting slowly toasted and drawing strange jam comics. As Damon doesn't draw, the rule was made that he would write the dialogue for whatever silent panels the rest of us would draw. I seem to remember that one particular comic centered around The Devil checking out nipples and ripping out eyeballs. Meanwhile, Rafael passed around his enormous sketchbooks that were filled with some very gorgeous full-page illustrations. His linework reminded me in some places of a more realistic Gahan Wilson, while in other places invoked early Barry Windsor Smith. So that was cool.

The parties at SPX are quite possibly the entire reason to go to this show. While being able to market and sell your books to a wider (yet much more specific) audience is great, it is the large gathering of drunken comics folks that make the trip worthwhile. I know that APE and MoCCA have similar vibes about them, but neither of those shows benefits from having all of the creators staying in the same hotel as the show itself. (Or, at the very least, at the hotel right next door.) This desegregation adds to the wonderfully LARGE and CENTRALIZED meeting place, that despite the great things specific to APE or MoCCA, makes SPX my favorite show.

One downside: A new law was passed for whatever the hell county Bethesda is in that smoking is no longer allowed within public places, such as restaurants or bars. It's a trend that is sweeping the nation and it's generally pissing me off. I hate feeling like a goddamn second-class citizen just because I want to enjoy the sweet sweet feeling that my tobacco lords and masters have been kind enough to grant to me. So here's a big fuck you to the anti-smoking lobbyists.

Smoking was allowed in certain rooms, however, and that's all I have to say about that.


Saturday, October 2nd

AIN'T NO DRAG...

Papa's got a brand new hangover, and I could tell that this one had staying power. I tried to fight it, to sweat the poisons out in a shower of scorching water, with little effect. All the orange juice and greasy bacon could not stop this devil pain. The only cure, the ONLY cure to this throbbing skull-splitting and gut-ripping pain is, you guessed it, getting dressed in my best Sears-bought suit and selling some motherfucking comics.

I will admit that I was looking damn sexy on the Saturday morning of SPX, damn sexy. Black suit, black tie, sneakers falling apart at the seams; I was the walking embodiment of the comic industry's beautiful future. Then the crowds came, the Montgomery room got too hot, and half my suit (not my pants) had to come off. I was still lookin' damn sexy though.

Saturday is more commonly known as "the busy day" at SPX, and it's really no wonder why. Despite two separate festivals occurring in Bethesda on this same day, the crowd at SPX seemed very large, and in a small-press comics buying frenzy. Sales of Plastic Farm were up about 50% from 2003's SPX Saturday, and we sold half of my contributor copies of DOPE FIENDS, which was very nice.

It seemed like everyone I was talking to was having a great show sales-wise. The Goldman Brothers sold a fuckload of their EVERYMAN book, Matt and Carol unloaded a bunch of the HEAVEN AND HELL book, all while the crowd started looking like a sad bunch of pack mules carrying their purchases around.

At 11:30, Nan attended the "Women in Comics" panel featuring Suzanne Baumann, Gina Biggs, Paige Braddock, Jennifer Hachigian, M.K. Reed, Raina Telgemeier and Marion Vitus. She came back very impressed with all of the women, but especially with Paige Braddock and JANE'S WORLD. Nan found this panel to be inspirational, teaching her that there are a good amount of women in the comics industry. While Nan doesn't write or draw comics, she was encouraged by the fact that there is a market ready to accept her if she were to make the leap. She was also impressed with the SPX organizers for putting on a Women in Comics panel in the first place, and was happy to know that such a thing existed.

Me? I wanted to go to the 10th Anniversary panel of SUPERNATURAL LAW. Those of you who read my report from this year's APE convention may remember that I was lucky enough to sit on a panel with Batton Lash at that show. From that panel, and from subsequent conversations with him, I've found Batton to speak very eloquently about the comics industry, and I was very interested to hear what he would say having almost an entire panel to himself. Alas, Eric Powell and Mike Mignola's panel went long, and I could not justify staying away from my table any longer. I did hear the last half hour of the Powell/Mignola panel though, so that was cool. (By the way, Hellboy is going to die.)

I ran into Mr. benjones running around the convention. He is the only person at the entire show who I will admit was better dressed than me. Benjones runs JIGSAW up in New York and, from the pictures and reports that I've seen, it seems to be a kick-ass shop filled with independent artwork, small-press and DIY media. Benjones was exceptionally cool enough to give me a JIGSAW travel coffee mug, which was like giving a nice big syringe made out of gold to a junkie. So, thanks man!

A number of people came up to the table on Saturday to buy copies of my comics, or to trade me for some of theirs. If you are one of those people, and you are reading this report just to see if you get mentioned by name, please don't get pissed off when I forget to give you a nod. It was a long day. I do recall that Shawn Hoke from a rival comics news-site was there, Jim Rugg stopped by for some DOPE FIENDS, and Jim Coon and Terry Flippo made the trip over and hooked me up with some of their new minis. It was literally a cast of thousands at SPX on Saturday, and I'm amazed that I'm retaining as much of this shit as I am.

Saturday was Nan's day to leave the show early to go take a nap. Immediately after she left, sales plummeted and the incessant "where's Nan?" questioning began anew.

(Actually, sales for both PLASTIC FARM and DOPE FIENDS were absolutely incredible, and set an all-time single day sales record for Plastic Farm Press. Thanks SPX!)

SATURDAY NIGHT'S ALRIGHT FOR FUCKING

Once the show ended for the day, I headed on up to the hotel room to get out of my sexy suit, and to collect Nan for dinner. We noticed, while waiting for the elevator to bring us back down to the lobby, that the hallways on the 14th floor were filled with the sounds of hard fucking. I have no idea what room this was coming from (nor was I seeking out the source); I mention this only to say to whoever it was on the 14th floor, around 7:30pm, doing the hard fucking: right on. It warms my heart to know that people are doing their part to erase the stigma that comic conventions are filled with people who can't get laid. The "regular folk" who were also staying in the hotel may have thought at the beginning that they were locked in with a bunch of sexless nerds, but once they heard the sound of hard fucking wafting throughout the hallways, they had no choice but to abandon their prejudices.

So, random couple who were also staying on my floor: Fuck on, my friends. Fuck on.

SATURDAY NIGHT'S ALSO ALRIGHT FOR WANDERING AROUND BETHESDA LOOKING FOR FOOD:

Harris O'Malley invited Nan and I to join him, and nearly 50 other people, for the Sequential Tart annual dinner at the Mongolian BBQ. So Nan, Matt and Carol Dembicki and I (along with two friends of ours, Chris and May, from back home) followed this unruly mob of comics people down the street only to be met with an insanely long line that stretched out of the restaurant. We stood outside Mongolian BBQ for about five minutes when we were joined by a second crowd of Damon Hurd, Rick Smith, Pete Stathis, Rafael and a few others who I cannot recall. The plan was made to break off from the Tart Super-group and find a second eatery.

I believe that my exact words when deciding to leave a restaurant where we were already at, to find another were "I am choosing the two in the bush over the one in the hand."

I later found out that the Tarts were seated inside Mongolian BBQ within five minutes, but we were destined to wander around Bethesda for 45 minutes looking for food. We finally ended up right back across the street from the Holiday Inn at the Benihana's, where the wait was looking like 45 minutes. Our fellowship broke once again as half the group decided to stake out again to find quicker accommodations. I, however, decided not to go against the "two in the bush" cliche for a second time.

Benihana's is a damn cool restaurant. We drank crazy liquor drinks out of souvenir Buddha mugs, and watched the performance artist chefs prepare our food in front of us. Our chef, while performing some amazing knife wielding skills, came dangerously close to stabbing the drinks guy who had snuck up behind him and later managed to slice his own hand open. It was awesome.

Meanwhile, there was a party back at the Holiday Inn that needed getting to. We met up with everyone that we had ditched at various times of the night, proceeded to get much drunker (again), and sat down for a quick comics jam with Matt Feazell and friends. (I drew a giant naked ass.)

Again, when discussing the lobby parties at the Holiday Inn, there's a certain desire to mention everyone I talked to by name. Considering the insane amount of people packed into the bar this year, such a feat would be impossible. I did, however, enjoy another conversation with Batton Lash (where I apologized for not being at his panel) and Frank Cammuso. But in the end, it was a relatively early evening for Nan and I, and we found ourselves back in our room before 1 AM....

And that's all I will say about that.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 3rd

SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN:

Yeah, Sunday is generally a slow day, and I don't really have much to talk about regarding Sunday. I wasn't nearly as hung-over in the morning, which may have contributed to my ability to sell better, but makes for a less interesting story. (Assuming, of course, that you found any part of this report was interesting in the first place.)

I did attend Heidi MacDonald's Media panel, which served to illuminate all of the things I am doing incorrectly when promoting PLASTIC FARM, and give me good ideas for promoting PLASTIC FARM in the future. Ideas such as constantly repeating the name of the book (PLASTIC FARM) and asking for a direct link for each time the phrase PLASTIC FARM is used. Thanks Heidi! (And thanks to Jen for putting in all the damn hotlinks throughout this report)

[Jen, in order to make the previous joke work, please please please make each time "PLASTIC FARM" is used, link to http://www.plasticfarm.com Thank you very much.]

Brief notes on Sunday: We ate Gelato. I picked up Street Angel #1-3 (which are fantastic!), the 10th Anniversary SPX t-shirt that Chris Pitzer of AdHouse was selling, and generally ran around the show buying all the comics that I mentioned throughout this excessively long con report. But, most importantly: Danielle Corsetto signed her contract. So now it's official that the supremely talented Danielle Corsetto of RAMBLERS and GIRLS WITH SLINGSHOTS fame will be drawing ten pages for me in PLASTIC FARM #11. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

Despite a plague of exhibitors packing up early and leaving nothing but empty tables behind, we had a pretty decent Sunday. We beat Friday's sales, and at the same time, destroyed last Sunday's sales. I think we might have done even better if half the exhibitors hadn't packed up two hours early giving the impression that the convention had already ended...but I suppose those sort of problems are why there won't be a Sunday next year.

I would like to take this time to thank the fine people who put on SPX this year: Steve Conley, Karon Flage, Greg McElhatton, and all of the rest. If I found myself in charge of this unruly beast of a convention, you would see me running around the show floor like a maniac, pulling out my hair, freaking out, but not these guys. I don't even think I saw Mr. Conley when he wasn't smiling and looking like he was having a grand time. Thanks again you wonderful people. I'll see you next year. And maybe, just maybe, next year I will remain sober enough to thank you in person.

But I wouldn't count on it.