I don’t want to wait to see this … until whenever I’ll finally be able to see it here in God’s America, without BBC America… without hope…

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

As humans, we often seem to think that we know what other people are thinking or feeling, even if they don’t explain it to us. We’ll look at the way someone moves or smiles or which direction their eyes go or which direction their legs are crossed and imagine we know what’s going on in their heads.

I thought this was true, but last night I realized that, nope. Not true. At least for me. I have no ability to “read” others. It’s kind of interesting in this, “wow, I’m kinda dumb” way. I went on a couple of dates with this seemingly swell gal, nothing major, and very chaste (because that’s how I roll, gang!) — but fun. Lots of laughs and easy conversation. Some body language that made me think there was attraction there. I thought for sure there would be a third date.

Nope.

Not the end of the world by any means, but it’s just confusing. At the end of the date, there were smiles and hugs and mentions of a third date. When I got home, she sent me a text thanking me and a good night wish and emoticon smiley face. All seemed well.

Asked her out again, and after a few hours received a text that “sorry, but this isn’t going to work out.”

Confusion.

I must’ve just misread everything. The fact that this little two date adventure has come to an end isn’t a huge deal in and of itself, but it is a head scratcher and represents perhaps a learning disability I didn’t know I had. I’m by no means a cocky guy, so I don’t just assume the ladies are down. But I was oddly confident in this. Thought for sure more dates were in the future.

Ah, guess my people reading skills are up there with my rollerskating skills. (Nonexistent.)

Ladies: why are you so confusing? Fellas: why are we so dumb?

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

Hey, champion readers!

A few years ago, I wrote these stories about a grizzled old ninja who was a bodyguard to celebrities. It was very deep and thoughtful, naturally. I always wanted to make it a comic, and my good friend Jason Eriksen made that happen with his mad art skills. We serialized a story on the late, great website called the footnote, and, well, it still makes me chuckle. Figured I’d share in a moment of nostalgia…

Read it here!

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

So, you must be wondering what happened after the crisis of my last post. Halloween was coming. I had no costume. It was time for the big dance, and I didn’t have a date!

After that post, I had the idea to use none of those ideas and be House from, you know, House. This would just require things I already had: jeans, sneakers, button up shirt, tee shirt underneath, stubble… and one thing I didn’t: a cane. But! My roommate has one! So, I asked him about it and figured I was done. Then he said, “What should I be, D.J.?”

After some twists and turns in life, it was obvious that HE should be House. It was his cane. He had the stubble that I ended up having to shave the day of the party for a temp job. It was all adding up.

But that left me back to ol’ square one! Jim from The Office became an option when I was working at the temp job and realized I was dressed just like Jim from The Office (gray slacks, white shirt, solid dark tie — yes, I study the man), plus the fact that I’m a tall cracker with brown hair who makes a lot of smug faces. But, nah, no one would get it just by looking at me.

Then Clark Kent into Superman became an option again, BUT, man, I’ve done that before. First time was in 1998 or something, back in college. Had to retire it.

Then! I saw my Preacher action figure in my room. Not any preacher, but Jesse Custer from the awesome DC/Vertigo comic PREACHER.

Yep. Just a piece of paper and some paperclips for the collar, then clothes I already had. Another successfully FREE Halloween costume! Sure, people just thought I was a regular ol’ preacher (albeit it a mean muggin’ one), but when I explained, people were either like, “Oh, I know that comic!” or “That sounds like a badass comic. I’ll have to check it out.”

Yeah, I’m a pretty cool dude.

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

How did Halloween sneak up on me? Sneaky night of Satan and candies! Dammit… Now only a few days to come up with a totally awesome (and easy and cheap — scratch that, FREE) costume!

Possible costumes for me:

1. Rogue (from X-MEN, people!)

Depending on how I part my hair at this point in “old life,” I totally have a white skunk stripe, Rogue style! Of course, I’m not a woman… but I can do a much better Southern accent than Anna Paquin. To wit, “Howdy, sugah.” I, too, also have excellent cleavage.

2. Chas Tenebaum, funeral edition.

I say “funeral edition” because I don’t have red track suit materials. I do have black track pants and almost matching jacket, though, which would fit his more somber attire during (SPOILER) the funeral scene at the end of the movie. My roommate has an afro wig, if I recall correctly. If I could get two miniature versions of myself, it’d be — ah, no time!

3. Clark Kent changing into Superman

Ah, this is an old standby. I’ve probably done this the past couple Halloweens, plus other here and there in-between other costumes. It’s easy, and I’m lazy. Still… been done to death by me and others (though I’m pretty sure I created it, darn it.) I do, however, have great cleavage. (Wait, what… ?)

4. My dad, circa 2004.

He was 53 then, and I’m only 32 now… but still, the comparison holds. All I’d have to do is grow a mustache. Is it too esoteric, though?

5. Batman!

Oh, crap! Why didn’t I think of this before??? It’ll be perfect, I can already do the voice and everything. I just need… a… um… a Batman costume. … Crap.

6. A Cylon “skinjob.”

Ha haaa! Pull a fast one on everybody. Ain’t no way to prove if I’m Cylon or human because Baltar’s tests are purposely flawed. And you know I got the cleavage for — wait, there are dude Cylons, too. Oh, also, my spine glows red during sex. (What… ?)

7. Captain Caveman

Just need to not shave for a day or two.

8. Jaws from James Bond.

Would this qualify as a costume, though?

9. “White D.J.”

That’s right, not the regular me — a white version of me. Racist? Naw… maybe reverse racist, but no one minds that. (… What… ?)

10. Uh… I dunno.

Any suggestions? A decision must be made…

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

Hell A is as expensive as it is sunny. Case in point: upon a recent trip to C-bus, OH, I found out that my friend hwose name I shall not say because s/he is a private person, pays $80 less in rent than I do.
But… that’s not really a big deal, is it? Only $80? You expected a much bigger difference to necessitate a “D.J. Versus The World” thing, didn’t you? Well, the devil is in the details…

He/she (not actually a hermaphrodite), for a $80 less than what I pay in rent, gets a three bedroom, two story duplex with a basement, real hardwood floors, a yard, and more — all to him/herself.

Compare this to my room and bathroom in a two bedroom apartment in a complex… and the fact that my $80 more rent is only HALF of the rent I split with my roommate.

Granted, my friend gets a better price but is in Ohio instead of California, buuuut… is that a fair trade? Enough of us think so to allow prices to be this absurd in LA, butbutbut, you know, I have family and lifelong friends who have always stood by me and been rock solid in Ohio. Folks on which I can count, which is worth more than constant sunny, smog-filled days, isn’t it?

Plus, in LA, the first doctor I went to for a checkup called me morbidly obese whereas, in Ohio, I’m just a sturdy fella, edging toward kinda skinny. (Both assessments of weight asinine, but which one do you think I favor? But I digress…)

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

I love going to the movies. I mean, I love movies in general, but GOING to see a movie at a movie theater? So great.

The smell of popcorn being popped is comforting. The absolute distraction from my usual thoughts as I sit in a dark room, staring at a giant screen, no on allowed to talk, having to immerse myself into stories that have nothing to do with me can be wonderful.

Being around people can be great, sure, but being surrounded by them without the pressure of having to interact? That can be just what the doctor ordered once in a while.

Sometimes it’s kinda sad. Sometimes I’d rather not be alone at the movies, but sometimes I prefer it.

Usually it’s calming.

Oh yeah, and fun.

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

My roommate Will shared this with me a while back, and, well, it’s haunted my dreams almost as much as my waking hours ever since. Note the grace and raw power of KARATE ELVIS. (Be warned: None of this is staged. All examples of Elvis-ian power, specifically power of the neck, are real.)

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

Seriously, New Zealand Consulate. Why wasn’t I informed? Flight of the Conchords has a new album coming out in a few days entitled I Told You I Was Freaky. Hahaaaa… glorious title. And dig that sexy album art…

Oh, that’s fun. Yeah, the second season felt a little weaker music-wise… but I still love ‘em. And dig that title song! They bring the sexy, and I’m not ashamed to say that it makes me feel… freaky.

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

After checking the Metro site to make sure I’m going to hit that bus stop on the corner at just the right time to make the bus, I still must wait. That is fine. And, to be honest, I have no grounds to complain. The most likely crazy person in the sleeveless Superman tee shirt and dojo-appropriate karate pants was there first.

He’s ignoring me, which is good. Once I’m noticed, I fear I’ll end up a spitting target. Oh, yeah — he’s spitting at various targets, some human.

I just wait it out… soon the bus will come, and… Oh, hold on there. We’re both at the same bus stop. Well, maybe he’s getting on a different… nope.

We both get on the same bus. I prepare to be spat upon before arriving at my destination…

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

I saw this on Adam P. Knave’s site, and well, I have to share… It’s glorious, and I just keep watching it over and over when I should be going to sleep.

Apparently, thousands of hot alien floozies aren’t enough… Kirk has to get it on with a mountain.

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

After the long journey to Baltimore, actually being at the Baltimore Comic Con was a cakewalk. Groggy but excited, Adam and I made it to the convention center and set up the POPGUN 1/2 table. It was in the Image Comic Booth, which was glorious. Whenever the Image Founders and Bigwigs had a signing on the other side of the booth, the line would stretch all the way around, in front of our table, and occasionally we’d be able to sneak a few sales.

“You looking for Erik Larsen’s signature? Well, you know, he’s contributed to every volume of POPGUN, sooo…”

“Rob Liefeld once told me POPGUN was awesome, sooo…”

“If we sell out of these, we can hang out and walk the floor for the rest of the con. It’s what Jim Valentino would want… c’mon!”

(Photo by Branwyn Bigglestone)

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

My Baltimore Comic Con 2009 Adventure began before I even arrived in that city on the harbor — way before. In preparation to schedule everything with the Lone Ranger to my Tonto, Adam P. Knave, I sent him my flight itinerary. He responded with, “Why are you flying into Dulles?”

“Because… William Shatner told me to?”

“That’s in D.C. — an hour from the convention.”

“Craptastic.” (Drink!)

Muh-effin’ Priceline! And, well, muh-effin’ me for just buying a ticket based upon price but not double-checking the cities, though, to be fair, I requested LA to Baltimore — I figured the Shat would get it! (Yes, I imagine William Shatner manning all requests at Priceline headquarters.)

So, the battle to figure out how to get to the convention after landing in D.C. began. I was getting in at midnight, and the Amtrak didn’t run again until 3:15 AM, so I’d have to hang out at the train station for around three hours, which I immediately began trying to convince myself would be a worthwhile experience because: taxis were too expensive; it’d cost twice my initial ticket price to change the flight at that point; and the last time I hitchhiked, I lost a kidney (and my dignity… but not my hope — that would go later). So, yeah, I decided to go with Amtrak. That meant I’d arrive in Baltimore around 4:30 AM. Then have to get to the hotel from Penn Station. Excitement!

Indeed, the seeds were planted for fretting, but I just pressed on. Then almost missed my flight out of LAX due to bad traffic and more of my poor planning. Yikes! Anyway, I did make it (just), and the flight there was swell, save for the gut rot given to me by the $25 turkey cold cut sandwich I bought due to extreme hunger. How does that happen? It was turkey and lettuce! Curious.

Anyway, after arriving at Dulles, it became clear getting to Union station for the Amtrak was going to be an ordeal… so I lazied up and went to the Super Shuttle. They weren’t sure if they’d have a shuttle running, but heaven smiled upon me, and they graciously decided to take my 90 bucks to drive me to my hotel in Baltimore… after dropping off eight other people all over Maryland. It was like that episode of Arrested Development — you know, when Tobias met his future acting coach, Carl Weathers, on the Super Shuttle? Everyone on that shuttle bonded, though. The soldier on leave from Iraq, the Texan mom and son in town for the gay pride parade, the NASA scientist, the Baltimore historian — the whole gang. This bonding was mostly from fear of the driver’s texting and GPS address entering while driving. Some close calls, folks. And close sitting. Bonding. Touching? None that I initiated.

I was the last one to be dropped off… at about 4 AM. Yeah, got there the same time I would’ve if I’d taken the Amtrak. Lessons.

The stalwart Adam P. Knave let me into the fancy Hyatt hotel, and we proceeded to chat and giggle and pillow fight, getting to sleep around, I dunno, 6 AM? Next day: the con! On two hours of sleep! Yay!

(to be continued because I need to do other stuff right now…)

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

Goin’ to Baltimore tomorrow. Why? Because I love Homicide: Life on the Streets (especially the Ned Beatty era). And I love the complexity of The Wire.

Really? No, not really. I’ve never really seen those shows. I should watch them. Especially The Wire from what I hear and read.

Then what, then? The films of John Waters speak to me? No. Not at all. (Though Pecker has lots of funny moments.)

No, no, the reason I’m flying to that harbor town is the 2009 Baltimore Comic Con!

Yay!

I’ll be rocking the POPGUN table with Sir Adam P. Knave at the sure to be amazing Image Comics booth! It’s sure to be a hoot.

Also looking forward to checking out the Harvey Awards. POPGUN vol. 2 is nominated for Best Anthology, which is swell! Vol. 1 won last year… can we do two in a row? I dunno. But it’s an honor to be nominated!

Not looking forward to the travel there from here in Hell A. It’ll be a complicated affair that I’ll no doubt be writing about in a later blog posting. Look for it, my two readers. (Hi, Mom! Hi, other person!)

Ah, comics. Good times.

See ya’ in Baltimore!

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

Maybe I’ve always been a nervous person. I’m not sure, as my memory is shockingly, weirdly bad. However, anxiety has been a problem for me for some time now, only getting worse as the years go on and on. Burying my brain in books, movies, TV, and and getting my drink on have historically been my ways of dealing with this. Distraction, basically.

On what I initially thought was an unrelated note, I went to my doctor about a year ago due to a weird kind of problem with my stomach and chest. Discomfort stuff that had nothing to do with food as far as I could tell. After a bunch of tests (three hour breathing into bags thing, ultrasound, pap smear, etc.) revealing nothing, my doctor asked when it was the worst, and, upon reflection, I realized it was when I was driving, an activity I’ve never been a fan of – especially in this gridlocked mess that is LA.

She took this to mean that perhaps my anxiety and stomach/chest mystery pains were indeed related. It had to do with nervous breathing, gulping air. Since there seemed to be no other reasons, it made sense. She prescribed me some Xanax, a kind of happy pill that helps with anxiety and panic attacks.

“It’s like drinking but without getting drunk.”

“What’s the point of that?” I wondered.

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

Kinda neat. I like the last one, but change is fun. I’m really excited to see how the show is with Steven Moffat at the helm — he wrote many of my favorite episodes over the last 4 seasons (which is a common opinion). The new kid playing the Doctor has some large shoes to fill. Will be a good time seeing what happens…

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

Nothing puts a damper on a swell restaurant (or bar or strip club — yeah, c’mon) experience more than discovering there’s a bathroom attendant. Well, maybe going alone and wondering if you’re an alcoholic if you don’t talk to anyone, which makes it basically, kind of, sort of the same as drinking alone. Well, maybe that’s not as bad as going out alone and not having the gumption to for ask that whomever you find attractive’s phone number. Well, that might not be as bad as asking for that attractive’s number and getting denied — or getting a fake number. Well… wait. What’s this public diary drivel about again?

Oh! Bathroom attendants. Right.

Look, when I hit the head, I just want to take a piss in peace, not be offered some mints. And I can very easily get my own towel. Seriously, I’m already spending too much money I don’t have to spend on drinks or whatever, I don’t want to feel like I have to tip some guy handing out the towels I’m fine with getting myself in the men’s room.

It’s almost always made worse by the fact that the bathroom attendant is almost always some really old fella with an air of formerly dignified sadness about him. Seriously, to be forced to sit all night where drunk assholes piss and shit is not an ideal way to spend one’s twilight years. Honestly, it’s no way to spend any years in my jerk opinion.

So now, not only does one have to pay a buck or two just to dry one’s hands, one must also be confronted with a possible sad future if things go the way they’ve been going. (No? Just me? … Darn.)

Look, even the nicest bathrooms stink (figuratively, but often literally). It’s no place to spend your weekend evenings, shilling normally free paper towels and offering superfluous mints, gum, and squirts of cologne — especially when you should be enjoying retirement. (Whatever happened to retiring, by the way? Don’t see it in my cards.)

Dickhead world. It’s not fair to either the bathroom attendant or the bathroom user.

I know times are tough, so I don’t want the millions (?) of bathroom attendants to be out of work, but I also don’t want to feel like I have to pay a dollar for a paper towel to the grandfatherly man who just watched me piss.

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

A great time was had yesterday (October 4) at the 2009 West Hollywood Book Fair! I enjoyed the fair last year, but this year was even better because I was on a panel! It was called OFF THE BEATEN PATH: INDIE CREATORS & THEIR CRAFT and also featured Jordan Crane (CLOUDS ABOVE and UPTIGHT), Ed Laroche (ALMIGHTY), Joe Matt (PEEP SHOW and SPENT), Kiyoshi Nakazawa (DRUNKEN MASTER) and was masterfully moderated by Darren Clavadetscher. (How’d I get on this panel anyway… ?)

Many, many thanks to Dan Kusunoki, Darren, and the whole Skylight Books team for their amazing support of my (and many others’) book POPGUN (from Image Comics) and some amazingly positive words about SOULLESS, MAN WITHOUT A SOUL (stories in POPGUN 1 & 2, soon to be a mini-series with artist extraordinaire Anjin Anhut — plug, plug).

And thanks to my friend William Richardson for not only showing support by attending but for also taking these snazzy photos!

Panels are fun.

“It depends,” I vaguely answer to the audience question: “Are you a top or bottom?” (True story.)

Jordan Crane telling me why superheroes suck as I argue, “But but but… me likey.”

Can’t tell if Darren is amused by whatever I’m saying or if he wants to punch me. Or both.

Unsure of what to write or how to scribble my signature.

I’m signing a book like a special person or something!

Not staged! Okay… well, a recreation of a comic reader/supporter named Wayne getting his copy of POPGUN 1 signed by someone he’s never heard of (me).

As Ed Laroche and Kiyoshi Nakazawa talk with fans, Jordan Crane is telling me how he’d kill off Superman once and for all in an accident involving a kryptonite finger nail clipper. (Later, I cry.)

Joe Matt draws himself reading on the toilet as I watch and wish I could draw like Joe Matt.

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

“My dad’s not a cell phone!”

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.

If you’re in the LA area, check it out!

http://www.westhollywoodbookfair.org/schedule/comicsscifihorror-scene/

4:00pm-5:00pm
OFF THE BEATEN PATH: INDIE CREATORS & THEIR CRAFT
Jordan Crane (Clouds Above and Uptight)
D.J. Kirkbride (Popgun)
Ed Laroche (Almighty)
Joe Matt (Peep Show)
Kiyoshi Nakazawa (Drunken Master)
Moderator: Darren Clavadetscher
Location: Comics, SciFi & Beyond Pavilion
Signings: Skylight Books booth

Mirrored from djkirkbride.com.