May 3, 2008

     It strikes me as funny how Americans can only see what's right in front of their face -- meaning most of you have the attention span of the average housefly.  A bridge collapses in Minnesota, and suddenly we have to examine EVERY bridge in the freaking country.  But when Senator McCain (R.-Psycho War-Vet) and Senator Clinton (D.-Self-Absorbed Bitch) offer us a temporary relief from taxes on gasoline this summer, we jump through that hoop like trained dogs.  Hey, cut that coupon and fuck all.
     But...you do realize that the tax we pay on gasoline goes toward INFRASTRUCTURE??  INFRASTRUCTURE: meaning the repair of roads, potholes, and all those crazy bridges that were once-upon-a-time suddenly so dangerous.
     So, next time you're crossing the Monongahela, and the bridge dissolves, and your car is suddenly dropping into the swiftly rushing waters, think of this.
     And then wish you had voted for Senator Obama.

  April 3, 2008

    My apologies...I have been away too long and have been really neglecting the SFC site.  Been busy at home with some spring cleaning -- which has basically involved clearing a path into my "art studio" that does not require either a trained rat or a Hummer H3 to navigate over and through.  It's the smallest room here on the Haller Ranch and since it's "mine-mine-all-mine!" I have packed every book, magazine, comic, sketchbook, Lego set, artifact, Tarot deck, and trinket into this room that I can call "mine-mine-all-mine!"
    The primary mission was to build some new bookcases.
    NEVER ask me to build a bookcase for you.
    I am the scourge of the Phillips-head screw.  You could make one of those screws out of titanium steel and have it heat-treated by Superman himself and I'd still find a way to strip it out, then curse your name as I grudgingly pound it down flush with a large hammer.  Or I could break off three drill bits building this bookcase, and just leave them in there, 'cause hey -- what the hell, feel that? -- that's just as sturdy.
    I think I should stick to drawing comic books.
   Of course, I'm probably not any good at making those, either.


  March 10, 2008

    Trying to be a writer has its ups and downs.
    I say "trying to be a writer," because I really don't consider myself one by any stretch of the imagination.  Sure, I've hammered out nearly a hundred poems -- it only took me ten years, Bukowski I am not -- that I'm not too ashamed to let other people read.  A lot of them used to be on the old "Haller's Hideout" when it had the distinction of being a website, and not just my correspondence column here at SFC.  Alas, the poems were mostly ignored for more prurient content, so I took one last look at the great big festering crap in the bowl that WAS "Haller's Hideout" and finally, with not-too-heavy-a-heart, I flushed.
    I admit I am keeping the handle purely for recognition's sake -- that's how most people know me online, right? -- and Hesse's Steppenwolf will always be the book that characterized my life, so I wanted the soul of the site to remain intact -- always the man and the wolf, the noble and the savage, intertwined.  But now, go ahead, Google "Haller1929" and see what happens.  I was a little overwhelmed myself.  OK, I'm a little bit known, at least in name.  That really freaks a guy out when he hasn't really DONE anything yet besides having one mildly successful website, trashing it completely, and now he's losing sleep over pulling the so-called "new-and-improved" version together.

    (I dare you now to count all the hyphens I've used so far.)
    
    Anyway, trying to be a writer has its ups and downs.
    The downs come when your mind is stuck in a puddle of swiftly drying concrete and you just want to shred-delete-erase-chunk everything you've ever created -- and this includes every pencil and pen and sketchbook you've ever bought -- and just go back to being some kind of normal person.  Punch in, punch out, pay the bills, watch TV, Google stupid shit, occasionally have sex.  You know, that type of person.
    The ups...the ups come when you're sitting there half-dead staring at a blank piece of paper and feeling rather stupid, when -- SLAM!  A fresh idea hits you like a freight train hits a VW Beetle...and everything works again...this connects to that...YES, THAT'S what this character would do!  And, WOW, this part makes sense again!  I'm back in business!  HELL YEAH!  I get to be a chain-smoking obsessive-compulsive insomniac again!

    Thank you all for coming -- keep coming back.
    Maybe I CAN pull this off.
    And, hopefully, Slightly Flawed Comix will actually have some comix on it.

   (You'd better recount those hyphens...)

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