Tonight, I feel terribly old. This happens now and then.
Last night Nick came over. We played around with the Icehouse pieces I’d been handed a while back. Played a few turns of Gnostica on my deck, got distracted and ended up just building cities with the little plastic pyramids and destroying them with a little pseudo-Godzilla keychain I had lying around the coffee table.
This morning, once we (ahem) finally left the apartment, we went to a coffee house. Where he got some work done and I just puttered on the net. When he left, I plopped myself in the studio chair and re-read Asterios Polyp. Which I’m kinda still out on – it’s both brilliant, and really hard to like. For all that it foretells its ending.
I got a grand total of one whole hour’s work on the next page of Rita. It’s annoying. I’d work all damn day fiddling with the tech crap of the site, but drawing this comic is like pulling my own teeth sometimes. Even though I’m a lot more proud of it. Maybe because of that – the goal is more ambiguous, the stakes higher. I know where I’m aiming with it, and I think I can get there. But it’s not easy.
And ultimately one hour of work is better than none. Which is what I accomplished on it the past couple weeks as I wrestled with my site.
I really hope I can clear stuff out of the way soon and just… work on the comic. For days on end. Get a groove going. There’s always something else I need to split my time between: a few commissions, Bugtown, the anthology, con attendance, helping out WITH cons… I didn’t know how good I had it when I’d wake up for days on end and know that I was going to work on Absinthe, or later, that I was going to work on the deck. Switching context is expensive and draining.