STRANGE BUT TRUE STORIES! Existential Comic strips from a weird and warped summer. It’s 40 C outside and the streets are dripping with surreal experience, vignettes and horrors unfold from the mouths, eyes, bodies and minds of the city’s denizens. A drug dealer turns sour, a child plays in the park and women speak vulgarities when no one else is looking. Fiction dictates reality and reality keeps pounding like hard rain. I never learnt to dream but nightmares I understand.
At the ripe wrinkling age of 33 I’ve found myself in terribly confused desolation, on one hand I can see no future, no point in continuing, no existence, no hope. Then a stranger or a group of children, or a collector appears out of the crowds to tell me how important my drawings are and how much I’ve affected their lives? It’s almost ludicrous, living in near poverty, but money too appears out of the crowds, always enough, never any more. Opportunities perpetually pass by and I turn the page . Why am I living in this dreadfully humid, repetitive negative, thick extraterrestrial broth? I can’t seem to sleep and worse yet it pains me more to wake up. But I do, and I take my sketch book with me to the cafes, parks, bars, and discos because I don’t know what else to do. One moment I am a teenager, the next I am elderly. Good night. Good morning. Good morning, good life.
Existing between possibilities, probabilities, destruction and regret has resulted in a weird sensation of certain nothingness; it must be time for lunch. Sipping on the alien broth of a Mugwump Soup. These are the comics of lost little ronin aimlessly wandering a dead city trapped by financial moderations and a kitty cat who has no one else to care for her. A directionless life seeping psychedelic into the lives of others, listening, interacting, eavesdropping and sleeplessly recording the strange goings on from just above the reflected sun off the concrete and just below the reality known as life in the monstrous metropolis.