Q: "Do you post anymore?" A: "No, no, no... yes, yes. A bit, a bit."

First of all, there are no excuses, only explanations. So let me exc... er, explain. This is how the past few weeks have been:
- "Are we ever going to find an apartment in Park Slope that we like?"
- "Oh, yay! We have an apartment!"
- "Oh god, I hate working all weekend. At least I have a week's vacation after this."
- "Are you okay honey?"
- ".... What do you mean you walked to the emergency room?"
- "Okay, we're home... take your pills... and I'll... zzzzzzz....."
- "Oh, Massachusetts is lovely!"
- "Finally home. How relaxing that was. Now why am I so goddamn tired?"

Somewhere in the middle of that (the Massachusetts part) I actually did some sketching. So generally, the idea is that I'm still posting on here, in hopes the few people goodly enough to visit the blog will forgive me for the interruption in service. Your patronage is appreciated.

Not much, but here's what we've got:


I felt very classy having a drink in the Hilton Lounge before boarding a LimoLiner bus for the trip up. And yet somehow I managed to feel disappointed, because I was the only person in the room not wearing a suit. Disclaimer: above sketched while a little disoriented and imbibing alcohol.




What was I doing with this one? You guessed it: I was sitting in the living room of Ms. Smash's lovely childhood home, dividing my attention appropriately between the adventures of her nephew Dr. Ozbert and the adventures of Ed Norton as The Illusionist. So of course, I did studies of the lad, as well as Jessica Biel and... well, um, Paul Giamatti's nose, quite frankly.

Aha, character designs for a possible Zuda submission! Yes, this fellow is supposed to be manacing! So much so, in fact, that I accidentally gave him a mustache very reminiscent of some German fellow. I forgive myself, because I very politely penciled in my self-reproach right next to him. The bust in the corner, obviously, went a bit more as planned.

My evil friend here is so clever that, at the top of this page, he somehow grew himself a pair of Ben Franklin spectacles. I'm sure John Hodgman would have something to say about the success of Mr. Franklin's pandering - it got me. He's taking shape as a bit of an older man now (the glasses help, no?). And here, by the end of the page, we have the beginnings of our intrepid hero, who is emphatically not a Daniel Craig look-a-like. Really. I mean, he has dark hair, unlike the new James Blonde. Are you blind, or just suffering an unhealthy, homoerotic fixation on Daniel Craig? I'm not.



And the two meet. Someone gets bitch-slapped. Why? I hope you'll care enough to find out if/when this becomes a submission. Should that happen, I imagine I'll have to take these pics off my blog; but that would be a good thing, if it meant you could run over to Zuda and see the finished product there!

I won't get ahead of myself. I have some rough thumbnails of the sequence this all fits into, but I'll have to ponder whether those are worth posting here. Either way, keep your eyes peeled, because I'm not dead yet.