Housebound.

My contribution to the Missed Connections comic anthology, completed two days late.

It's pouring. POURING. As a result, I haven't left the house in several days, not even to go to the coffee shop twenty blocks away. You might think I'd take this time to work on my book, but no - I've been fielding an unusually heavy workload from Apparent, catching up on Mario Galaxy and unlocking songs in the sexist and disappointing Guitar Hero 3, and attempting to wrap up a number of small comics for upcoming anthologies. I've also become aware of several fairly intense leaks in my house's foundation, resulting in small waterfalls directly into the basement, and there's a bit of stress in the process of trying to figure out how to implement some sort of French drain system to divert the hundreds of gallons of standing water away from the house. Fuck winter.

I haven't felt like being very social, and what I should be doing (comics) seems to be just a little bit out of reach. I pace around and run treadmills mentally. My house is a slovenly mess, and while I pick at piles of crap now and then, no progress is made. I've let certain dormant family issues rise to the surface. I've got a head cold. I haven't ridden my bike in weeks. Someone kill me!

The worst part is that I have this swelling desire to create, but I can't seem to make my meat machine sit down at the drawing table and git'er done. I spent a lovely long weekend in San Francisco last week on a business/pleasure trip, and I came back to town ready and rarin' to get going once again on Ivy. So what the fuck happened? This can't continue. I'll keep you posted, faithful internet.