I have never shot a man in Reno just to watch him die, though I did once watch my mum trip over the curb with arms full of shopping and nearly wet myself laughing.
Where normally there would be the sound of birds and the tide crashing against the beach there was silence, all hushed by the coming of a purer form of nature and the boy felt a tinge of excitement...
When i was younger it was the parents job to complain that the music was too loud, too aggressive, too everything.
The public pool is a funny place. You are half naked among strangers, engaged in the most physical of activities, your body and soul laid bare by its exertions.
Part of me wants to write articles about comics for the rest of my days. The other half wants to chuck everything in and move to the middle east and become a war correspondent.
This love, this need to create; this compulsion to keep trying to keep improving and seeing what lies on the other side and the other side of that and the other side of that... it's not something to take for granted.
I have seen behind the curtain of the great and powerful Oz and witnessed the huddled, naked, small and terrified humanity that lies there.
Maybe the constant struggle to silence those voices is more desirable, more attainable than trying to fill the hole that otherwise would exist. Or perhaps I think too much.