By Jeff Parker

First show of the year. The event for independent comics on the West Coast. The thing I've avoided the past couple of years because I knew it would make me feel horrible that I hadn't finished my own book. APE.

And after putting out a color graphic novel, I really, really needed an opportunity to sell books.
Of course, everyone heading up Highway 5 from Southern California has to cross one major hurdle when heading to San Francisco...

Holding your breath is useless. It's all-encompassing. No one outside of the Texas panhandle could imagine how far back this scene stretches.
That I slowed down enough to take pictures should demonstrate my commitment to these reports. I had a headache for the next hour after breathing there.Coalinga, California. The place where vegetarians are created.

My room and tablemate for the weekend was pal and my sometimes-publisher Jim Ottaviani. Jim proudly debuted a GT Labs poster written by him and drawn by the mighty Roger Langridge. Roger is known to many for his Fred the Clown strip, and now to many more for a Batman story in the current Legends of the Dark Knight. The poster, which reads longer than many comic books, has Albert Einstein explaining Quantum Entanglement, or in Trekspeak, the theory behind teleportation of matter. Jim also has Pubo creator Lee Purvis working on his next book, about physicist Niels Bohr. When the world ends, Jim will be one of the first to understand why.

 
Jim had used his science mind to find us a good and affordable hotel, which was just on the edge but not all the way in Sketchyland, adjacent to North Junkieville. Walk up just two blocks, and suddenly you're in a scene from the Omega Man, fending off the living dead and hopscotching over landmines of vomit. Some of the artists who frequent the Tart boards were all the way in, staying at the Hotel Renoir. Let me jump ahead to Sunday, when we tagged along with them to Chinatown. A fight broke out across the street, and some little feller tried to sell us drugs with an enigmatic intro line.
If only I'd heard that pitch early in the weekend I could have used it during the show. If you walk by my table at the next show, Megacon in Orlando, you can bet that's what I'm going to say to you. "World movin' too slow for ya, man? Want something to speed it up? The Interman is what you need. Ay come back! Bitch!" There were other aggressive streetfolk, most were in their own world, some had tables set up for playing bum-chess, and we eventually got up to Chinatown where with minimal effort you can find some of the world's best food. I almost spilled hot tea on Rachel Hartman thanks to my fascination with a lazy susan, Lea Hernandez said something really funny that I can't remember, and everyone bought snap 'n' pops. Wait, I've gotten to the end of the trip already, let me back up....
 

SATURDAY
A horrible wake-up: National Public Radio detailing the destruction of space shuttle Columbia. We listen to it for a while before finally heading down the Convention building to set up. The show is a good distraction to keep us from dwelling on the disaster, which I would have done if I stayed home. I ponied up that -coff- fifteen dollars for parking, and went into the building. Just like that. Though the show is owned by Comicon now, there were no shocktroops like in San Diego to make badge collecting and setting up as hard as possible. And the hall was really neat, it didn't look like a concrete bunker like most convention centers. You could get real sunlight through the windows, and see the street outside. And as everyone likes to mention-- carpet! Shows are really pleasant when you're not being blasted with videos and looping audio. I suspect that without all the extra stimulus, people also buy more books and art since they can focus on the material and be pulled in. So can we petition for the screen and sound stuff to be removed from other shows?
 
Super-nice guy Ken Knudtsen hops over the Slave Labor table to introduce himself. He's the creator of My Monkey's Name is Jennifer, and found out about my book from the Wizard "Secret Stash" feature. Ken seems like the lovable soldier in the war movie that no one wants to see get shot, but he does, and we all rush the front to avenge our fallen buddy. Lots of people pour in. APE attendees are pretty much like SPX attendees. They came there to find out about new work and pick up anything they find interesting, even if they've never heard of it.
I meet fellow Toth enthusiast Dylan Williams and grab up his whole run of Reporter. These books are just packed with engrossing short stories, he clearly is a fan of good cinema. Williams hipsters off and I continue to sell until I can't sells no more.
 
 
Dinner: A great place recommended by Laurenn McCubbin called "Chow". What a swell little group of Indy notables-- Vancouver's Leonard Wong, Leela Corman, Laurenn's redwood of a husband Kelly, Jeff Mason, and at the other end of the table I'm pretty sure was Jason Little. I couldn't see anything of him past Mason except for his hat. Next, a pleasant drive to the CBLDF fundraiser at the Cartoon Art Museum. Except for a brief rant from passenger Heidi MacDonald because I threatened to play the Beck Sea Change cd. I don't know why she doesn't understand that it's his most kickass effort, not "sad bastard music". I even had freakishly good parking luck close to the Museum.
Before entering the exhibits, we all had to fill out a raffle ticket. I barely get inside and start looking at art on the wall before someone calls my name...
Sorry, McCubbins, my flash blinds everyone.
I won--- a Pressed Fairy Calendar! Just as I was contemplating what new and different pressed fairies would await me each month this year, a woman who'd won a shirt with a Captain Marvel lightning bolt on it offered to trade. So I did. I may even put the shirt on one laundry day, who knows? About this time Steve Lieber shows up and we're soon gawking at a giant Hal Foster page among other great works. Like a Winsor McKay Rarebit page. The art appreciation is cut short when everyone decides it's time to go to the Isotope store party.
Sequential, yes... but is it art?
 
The Drive to Isotope, and the Deserted Monitor
  
Why Laurenn was sporting little horns on her noggin became apparent when I found myself in charge of transporting seven people to the Isotope party. Lieber and I aren't exactly midgets, which left the back seat and the hatchback of my Jeep to cram everyone else in. Noreiga street was a long distance away, and San Francisco's confounding one-way streets with oddly placed forks made getting there even more maddening. This was made worse by the local cartoonist in the very back, F.C. something, grousing loudly most of the way. In fairness, he was crammed back there with several boxes of graphic novels and an enormous broken computer monitor that I've had in the car for weeks. Sure, I'll explain why... I've been trying to find a safe disposal place in L.A. forever, though every computer store can only offer "we just chuck ours in the dumpster".
 
I was determined to hang onto it until I could do the right thing for the environment (they're godawfully hazardous), but the pressure in the car was mounting as we circled desperately trying to simply turn onto Fell Street.
Tensions kept building, prompting even the most tolerant members of our group to lob zingers at each other. Finally I give up, pull over on a quiet street, and leave my faithful monitor to it's own devices on the mean streets, hoping The City will know what to do with it. Everything got better from this point. The girl in the back seat went to the rear, which quieted F.C. down, and we found the correct route all the way to the other end of town.Happiness ensued. Sorry, environment.
  
 
Isotope was almost as crowded as the car, but with bartenders serving free drinks, and lots of good comics to look at. Proprieter James Sime knows how to make readers happy, and I feel bad for thinking for so long that he'd come up with the previous store designation "Comics and Da Kind". Now that I've met him it's obvious he could never tag his shop with such a lame name. He really does have illustrated toilet seats on the wall, and a lounge area. I meet people I've only known as internet personalities like Jesse Hamm, and watch alcohol make Leonard's face go magenta. Somehow this event is going on until 5 am, but I can't, so I collect as much of the group as I can find and head out.
 
 
SUNDAY
The show started at noon on both days, giving even the latest sleeper time to get in early and make the rounds before sitting down to meet the public. I finally picked up some European comics from the Underboss of Berkley, Rory Root. His shop Comic Relief is the only thing keeping that college town from breaking into continuous riots over our country's pre-war follies. Speaking of retailers who command vast regions, Michael Drivas of Big Brain has made it all the way from Minneapolis. Now that's dedication-- or he just wanted to escape the bitter cold of the midwest, who can say. But it was good to meet him in person, he's also been very helpful with selling my book.
I get ahold of Double Happiness and Fleep, and now I know what the big deal about Jason Shiga is. What original and inventive stuff! Time to quit reading though, and be a publisher again. I sit down and find today's crowd as big and receptive as Saturday's. But, not everyone who walks up is interested in you . . .
I was fortunate enough to have my head down in a drawing when two teens came up to use our table as a staging area to get up the nerve to go talk to Jhonen Vasquez. Though the gushing girl only referred to him as "the Johnny the Homicidal Maniac guy", she's apparently SUCH a big fan and they'd beenwondering whatcolor hishairwouldbeeeee, gahhhh ....he'snotbehindtheta-ble,dunnoifIshouldgosayy somethinnng... Poor polite Jim kept nodding at her as the boyfriend pretended to look through the books on the table. Did I mention that they were, like, THE biggest-ohmygodyoudon'tknow-fans---in fact, some of our friends were s'posed to be here today, but one couldn't BECAUSE he's actually getting a Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (they always use the whole title, never shorten it to just "Johnny") tattoooooo . . .
That was enough for me, I must have to use the bathroom or something, so I soon find myself on the upper level of the show floor. And there I see writer pal Sara Ryan talking to Cuckoo creator Madison Clell, who is now a local. She proved it by showing us a psychedelic apartment key, and even better, her garage is where The Tubes used to practice back in the magical early days of MTV. So now the protector spirit of Fee Waybill follows Madison everywhere she goes.
 
 
AIT/Planet Lar and friends hold a read-in, man. Dig that Bay area scene.
 
As the show closes, the horse trading begins. Everyone starts swapping books like crazy, and now I've got weeks of good reading. Brett Warnock sets me up with Hall and Kindt's Pistolwhip. I finally get a copy of Haspiel's Opposable Thumbs from Alternative. John Heebink whizzes Doll and Creature at my head. Wong reappears in time to give me a Vancouver Special --that didn't sound right-it's an anthology . . . Chris Pitzer of AdHouse Books has the acclaimed works of Joel Priddy and Scott Mills on hand, I snatch them before he can change his mind. It's a great haul for me--I've only had time to sit down and read one book this week, but I chose wisely. Ancient Joe by Scott Morse. Scott's art is so well-designed and full of life that I'm keeping it by the drawing board to kickstart me for a while. Finally reality sets in and people stop giving me free things, so I pack up.I talk to Carla Speed McNeil about her upcoming stint with Greg Rucka on Queen and Country, and she suckers me into taking some of her books back to ship to her.Fine. I say my goodbyes with a sore throat and decide to drive back in the morning like a sensible person. And I've still not ridden a cable car.