I did a new interview with
The Washington Post's Express:
[link]

So I'm down in Portland still. my personal life is dog shit but my comic life is gold.
The whole thing makes me feel like the Grifith character from Berzerk who sells out his nearest and dearest to be eaten by demons and dragged down to hell so he can become a god. I feel like I dicked over people close to me. not that the comic shit is related to the relationship shit but that's how it feels.
It's a tough life looking at yourself in a mirror after doing shit you're not proud of.
not to get too into it but trust me on this, I'm an asshole. Snow ball of asshole tumbeling down hill.
I suppose I should get a fucking live journal if i'm going to bitch this much about my life. the internet is so lame.

I spent all week drawing 2 pages a day witch is massive for me, hanging out with my old pal Farel (pop gun war) and the Oni dudes. The Multiple warhedz book is done for san diego, I'm just tweaking it now goes off to print on monday.I'm real happy with it. 48 pages werewolf romance blah blah.

There was a moment when I was lettering a page in the Oni offices where I looked up and realized that doing just that there was exactly what I wanted to do my entire life. I mean I know I'm way bottom of the totem pole as far as comic book fame but fuck I get to hang out in a comic company and draw all day, and the thing that blows my mind is that the Oni dudes are really into what I'm doing. I'm so used to being the last concern of the dudes printing me. it's nice.

So my own art as escapism is saving me for the moment but I know I have to deal with my life at some point
even if I never go back to Seattle. years of therapy and all that. Right now the idea of never going back to seattle sounds so good.

My father is visiting me today away from his geodesic dome he asked me "what would jesus drive?"
I said "I dunno a labaron coup?" he says " no, he'd drive the money changers from the temple"
badum bum.

So that's today, the world is still spinning around in a vast weird cold universe, Someone's making scones in paris. beautiful women are giggeling and biting their nails, someone that will be missed is getting shot in the face --drunks are puking on their feet and I'm just a dude with an instant mocha in a mug with a dogs face on it.

ce la vi.
Brandon