Cali Plans and Breakdowns

Thursday, June 09, 2005

The trip is officially all set. I will be at San Diego Comic Con working the Hoarse & Buggy booth. I will be there all day Friday and most of the day Saturday. For those of you who’d like to try to meet up during my little West Coast romp, here’s the deal:

1) Arrive in San Francisco on Wednesday, July 6th. Staying at the Stratford Hotel in Union Square. Only thing planned so far is a Giants-Cardinals game on Friday.
2) Drive down to LA on the 10th, keeping the car. Staying at the Marina International Hotel in Marina del Rey. PRICE IS RIGHT for Robin on Monday and probably just meeting up with all my LA peeps the rest of the time.
3) Drive down to San Diego on the 14th, staying at the Sheraton San Diego Hotel and Marina. Probably go to Viejas on the 14th as well. Con on Friday and Saturday. Probably hang out both of those nights, might catch a Padres-DBacks game on one of them as well, however.

As far as the con goes, we’ll have Western Tales 1-4 and Elk’s Run 1-3 on hand. We’ll also have some big, big news and some preview art of our new book, Ritual Homicide (the first page made me crap my pants it was so good, we should probably slap a disclaimer on that bad boy).

Some of you may be wondering what will happen to this blog while I’m away for almost two weeks. Well…guest writers, actually. I’m pretty excited about it; I got some good people writing some stories. Ten writers total giving me a two week break so I can come back recharged and ready to bang out the second half of this experiment. I’m not going to announce the line-up, that’ll be the surprise. But I will say it’s a nice mix of people from my stories (friends and family) and people that are fans of this site and are good storytellers. So you’ll get stories from the people I’m telling stories about and stories from the people that are outside my own little circle. Same rules apply; stories have to be from before June 2000. I think you’ll dig it.


I keep getting sidetracked and now I’m so behind on the main story. Since I haven’t touched it in a while, let me recap where we’re at. Sometime in March of 1998 I had a dream about the number 423 that came true, somewhat, on April 23rd but not in the way I expected it to. I was in a horrible situation where my grades were low-enough for me to lose my scholarships, I hardly went to class the entire semester, R and I were falling apart, my two best friends were leaving BU, the rest of my friends were moving off-campus whereas I took a job as an RA and I was smoking way too much dope and drinking way too much alcohol.

Shit got so bad I was actually afraid my parents were going to pull me out of school. Having a history of depression and therapists I had R do something for me that I’m not proud of – I had her call my parents and tell them she was worried about me,; tell them I seemed really fucked up lately. A desperate man does desperate things.

I wasn’t the only one. Mormon Josh had his own breakdown. We corrupted him too much. He had a girlfriend that he was fooling around with, he was drinking – plenty of other stuff he wasn’t supposed to be doing as a Mormon. That’s why he decided to do his mission – two years in Montreal, going door to door and trying to save people’s souls. He was going to keep it on with his girlfriend. I told him that she wasn’t going to wait; he said they were supposed to be together. I was right in the long-run.

Mickey had his. He comes from a strict Hindu family, arranged marriages and a long line of doctors. He fucked up this semester – we all did. We partied way too hard and never did shit for school. He broke down and started crying, telling me how he was going to kill himself rather than face his father. I took him down to the Charles River and we sat there all night, talking about life, until he finally calmed down. I failed my final the next day.

I had my breakdown, already talked about that.

I think R had a different type of breakdown. She was a bio major, doing the pre-med thing. She decided to switch majors to Biomedical Engineering and drop her dream of becoming a doctor. That’s not all, though.

She wanted to go to Europe for the summer. She found a trip that was a month long, one of those 13 country trips. She was adamant about me not going, saying she needed time to see it all for herself. I was a bit weary but I didn’t say “no”, wasn’t my place, and I was secure in where we were. Besides, we had a couple of weeks between the end of school and her vacation and then plenty of summer to hang out together afterwards, you know? Let her have her trip.

I was sort of in a Zen like state at this point, anyway. My grades were just high enough to keep my scholarships and RA position, I was guaranteed at least on more semester. Summer was coming and unlike the last two summers, I was not going to get a job. Max and G decided on the same thing. Maybe some odd jobs here and there but for the first time since I was 14 I was not going to work.

And I picked the right summer, too. Otherwise, I could have missed this experience. This summer was bigger than simply “not working”. This summer was about heart-ache, friendships, death and starting over.


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