Sometimes I hate myself so much I can't even publish a strip I KNOW almost no one will see. But what happens to a guy who dies with a box of unpublished stuff? It has been a hard fucking summer - I broke up my band, admitted my best friend had dropped me, took my last trip to Sarnia, probably - what a shit hole. I'm good, but sad. Better that than unconscious. That's my new resolution: if I have another few decades of life left, I want them to be lived on purpose. Fuck lying.
