Sanctimonious Polemics Here

Fuck a duck, it's hard being a blogger these days, I have no sanctimonious polemic to bash anyone over the head with today, no trivial whining about my live and loves, no product to flog, no stoooopid joke to tell.
You will have to imagine for yourself some left or right wing indignant screed, some sordid detail about my pecker, some new improved and splendid cog that will slide easily into the desired slot (that can be purchased for only $9.99 via paypal)!
I have no dumb ass jokes, some "friend" you haven't seen for sixteen years will send you a page of them with 50MB photos attatched tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
This all being the case, I'm gonna blog off and blog out for now. For christ sakes, I'm a goddamn cartoonist, if you really love me and care about me, go read my mother fucking comic books, for chrissakes. Now there is a medium in which I am qualified to express myself.
Blog? Fog! Schmog! Bloob, Schmoob.

The Funkiest White Man who Ever Lived

To move to a new house, a new city, a new country is to open a door on a moment filled with portent--rarely in life is there such a clean divide between the old and new.
When I schlepped several pick-up truckloads of stuff into our new place in San Felipe Del Agua, a neighborhood in Oaxaca city, last Friday, I was aware of this, but frankly was too tired from the effort to fully appreciate it.
It is a cozy, welcoming and very Mexican casa; Serena and I were pleased as could be to lease it, as a try at an earlier rental had collapsed in negotiations that underscored our lack of finesse in the protocols of Mexican business. Hell, it was a blessing in disguise, as the house we took was far warmer, a better vibe.

Popping open a first symbolic box at the conclusion of unloading, I spied a CD of a Little Feat studio session from '74, and popped it in. Suddenly, here is Lowell George at the peak of his powers putting a groove in my step with an insanely funky reading of "Rock and Roll Doctor". Lowell's rich, distinctive take on the Howlin' Wolf vocal style has room to shake in this number, and his Delta slide meets L.A. guitar leads are smokin'. Bill Payne on piano, Kenny Gradney on bass, Sam Clayton on congas, Paul Barriere on rhythm guitar and Richy Hayward on drums are unmatched in distilling the essence of New Orleans into pristine yet supremely butt-shakin' rock 'n roll.

Goddamnit Lowell, thanks for welcoming me into my new house! You are indeed the funkiest white man who ever lived.

Found A House

After living out of suitcases (well, duffel bags actually) for about ten weeks, the wife and I have finally landed in a nice modest house in San Felipe del Agua, a pretty neighborhood about 2 miles north of the center of Oaxaca.

I am most relieved, as this means I can get back to my art routine.

Borrowed a pick up truck from our hosts Alvin & Arlene Starkman at Casa Machaya B&B Friday last (stayed with the Starkmans for four weeks, a great experience), and schlepped our 40+ boxes of stuff, art, jugetes, clothing and just plain junk down one steep hill and up another to this cozy modest house. (That is my spokesmodel Max Lafler sitting in the courtyard out back by the guest cottage.)

I was sore as hell the next day. Fuck a duck, I have this self image as this studly guy who has been able to run like a demon his whole life, but the fact of the matter is, at the age of 50 maybe I shoulda hired movers!

Things improved this evening when I opened the box with my cartooning supplies--I found my Winsor Newton Series 7 sable brush (#2), and forgot the aching muscles. It was like finding a mini rosetta stone to my soul.

What the stratocaster was to Jimi Hendrix, what Tiger was to Jerry, what powdered rubber jumpsuits are to Lux Interior, the Winsor Newton brush is to me: That magic tool that is infinitely simple, but allows infinite expression with a flick of the hand.

I've been slinging india ink with brushes for 35 years; I figure if I keep it up, I'll be gettin' good at it before long.

Now I can begin in earnest what I came to Oaxaca to do: Locate the art pedal, and press it to the metal!

Meanwhile, I note that I've added a product to my cafepress.com T Shirt shop. It's the FrankenJerry T Shirt, my painting of Frankenstein's monster jammin' on Jerry Garcia's infamous guitar, Tiger.

I'm trying to figure out how to make a buck from Oaxaca, and I guess my cafepress shop is a stab in that direction.

My New T-Shirt Shop

I've set up a new apparel shop featuring my paintings, like this here guitar playin' cactus. And let's not forget the giant wolfman chasing Benb in his '63 Impala!

The shop is hosted by Cafe Press, a most reputable site recommended to me by none other than Tom Tomorrow, the brilliant, distinguished creator of the This Modern World weekly comic strip. When a national treasure like Tom gives the thumbs up to a web portal, I am inclined to trust his judgement!

The apparel shop features Tees, Hoodies, Baby Doll scoop necks, and other trendy sportswear styles.

I'm looking to develop some more full color fun & unusual items as the holidays approach. I'll post new images in the blog here as they go through the formality of appearing in actual paint in the physical world!

Where Can You Sit?

This is the type of question you ask from a position of confusion. I have been a gypsy of sorts for two months plus, living in a gorgeous B&B on a hillside tucked between the city of Oaxaca and the nearby mountain range. It's fucking stunning, the jaunty trees clinging to the hillside in the foreground, moody cloulds tussling with the mountain tops a few miles away.

But... but... I don't got no car, no phone, no house (yet), no drawing table. Today my scanner arrived--smashed to bits by the combined genuis of the US & Mexican postal services. I know, I shoulda known better.

Don't get me wrong, I'm delighted to be here, but I am a creature of habit. And I guess my favorite habit is working. I want to get down to some serious art making here. I know I will soon, but for the meanwhile I will try to remind myself that I am having a blast here with Serena, Max and Genevieve, and that we are living our dream in real time.

Truth be told, we have mixed it up with a hell of a lot of seriously nice people too, eager to help us and welcome us to Oaxaca. Damn near every person who sees two year old Genni with her riot of red curls falls instantly in love with here.

OK, time to turn off the lights, escape the bugs, and get some sleep.