A Crossing of Quantum Streams

“I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt…”

When I was in middle school, my goal was to make it to New York City. I wanted to be a writer and/or a comic book artist. I would have been happy in a writer’s room on The Late Show with David Letterman or the bullpen at Marvel - at least it seemed that way in my daydreams where I’d be in frequent company with the likes of Letterman and Stan Lee.

In 1999, when I had strayed way off course from my dreams, I checked into a hotel in Jersey City. I was going to be there for a week auditing pharmacies, and I thought that I could carve out some time to get into the city for the first time.

When I got to my hotel room, I looked out the window across the river to the skyline and it scared the living shit out of me. I was overwhelmed by its enormity. And I never did cross the river.

I wouldn’t get to New York City until another 24 years later - this past June. By then I had become a foreigner in my own country and aged into a different person.

There were a lot of moments that I cherish from my trip to New York City. Seeing the city through my family’s eyes (it was also my kids’ first time in the US). Spending the day walking through Brooklyn. Sitting on a bench in Hudson City Park near sunset.

One moment that stood out was on the fourth day. I was returning from LaGuardia Airport and I decided to take the free bus from the airport to Queens before taking the subway into the city to Grand Central – 42 St. Station. I had my headphones on and I was listening to music. And I just took it all in.

I remember coming up the steps next to the New York Public Library and listening to Lord Huron’s “The Night We Met,” and it was as if the pressure in the air dropped. For a quick second, it felt like I was displaced - as if I was heading towards a different destination in another life. And then I turned a corner and the feeling passed.

It all came and went as fast as it took you to read that last paragraph. Whether it was a waking dream, a crossing of quantum streams, or an overactive imagination, this feeling of joy, as ephemeral as it was, was lovely.

A comic book artist?

Yeah, I wanted to be a comic book artist.

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I said I found a folder full of stories that I forgot about? Well, this folder also included old comic books that I made in middle school and high school.

Here are four pages from TALESMAN. I think it was meant to be a Jon Sable-type story as told by the older version of the hero.

You know, tales, man.

Hey, I was 15 years old when I did this, so give me a break.

A special shoutout to all the Sharpie markers that were sacrificed in the making of these pages and my Nike shoes, as referenced on the 3rd page.

I also have pages from my other comic book, COMBAT ZONE, as well as my comic strip LEDGE LAD (which I’ll talk about some other time). They are, well, they are really…something.

COMBAT ZONE is basically an ALIENS ripoff, but instead of the Marines landing on a planet full of terrifying creatures, they discover the planet is full of - wait for it! - ninjas. My favorite part is when they land on the planet and they’re attacked by said ninjas. One of the marines - who is bleeding out - stumbles back to the ship…

I do miss the 80s when the worst thing that could happen to anyone was being attacked by ninjas. And the constant threat of quicksand, of course.

My family was wildly supportive of my artistic pursuit. They hired a private art teacher who came to the house once a week. In 1993, when we were visiting my aunt and uncle in Los Angeles, my whole family drove me to San Diego to the Image Comics office to present my work (all unannounced, naturally). But the address turned out to be a PO Box in a strip mall, so I wasn’t able to wow anyone in person. Still, I remember that day and always appreciate that my family would do that for me.

Outside of the occasional doodle, I don’t draw much these days. I have written some comic book scripts, but it’s not the same as seeing it through to the page with your own hand.

We good?

Some of you have been responding to these newsletters with your own stories. HOW DARE YOU?! Actually, I think it’s great. I love hearing from you.

I’ve also noticed that some of you have been asking questions. So I’d like to propose that if you have a question, please send it my way. I’ll put them together and answer them all in a future newsletter.

In the meantime, be sure to put on your oxygen mask before helping others.