Squirt gun full of poison

Category: Comments From A Cracked Cranium

SiouxperCon 2017 Part Two: Hey! I Didn’t Make A Fool Of Myself!

Or did I? Meh, probably.

Part one HERE.

The guests at the con were a darn fine line-up of talent and as cool as everybody was, I think even the other guests would say the top of the heap was the multi-Eisner award wining creator of the fantastic comic Fables, Bill Willingham! If you haven’t read Fables, you should.

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SiouxperCon 2017 Part One: Who Needs A Savings Account, Anyway?

Good lord, I’m still exhausted.

I, for a change, crawled out of my isolation chamber and ventured out into the world in which I used to be a regular citizen. Fandom.

The second annual SiouxperCon was held on May 12th, 13th, and 14th at the Best Western Plus Ramkota Hotel in Sioux Falls, SD and even though I haven’t been to a convention in, yeesh, twenty plus years, it was a smooth slide back.

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One Year

So, I started this little thing one year ago today. Made some changes. I think I’ll stick around. For a little while, at least.

Wander around a bit. Let me know what you think.

Life goes as it goes. I’ll try to do more. And do better.

Thanks to all of you who have visited and given me feedback. It is truly appreciated.

(insert humorous line here)

Digital Camera


Pre-Dawn. Four-Way Stop. Miller, South Dakota.

Christmas night I sent out a tweet linking to KELO’s SkyCam on the northeast corner of the four-way stop in Miller. (four-way and courthouse links) Jen Dixon, expat living in England and artist extraordinaire, became mesmerized with the early morning snow falling on the empty street and hoped she would see someone walking by. So, I offered to walk down and wave at her from half-way across a continent and all the way across the Atlantic.

The plan was done via Twitter so I put on some pants and wandered out into the wee hours to say hi to a distant friend.

Thanks to her housemate, Pete Cooper, this moment of stupidity was captured forever.

Because of the world we live in, someone I haven’t seen in person in over twenty years was able to see me act a fool from half a world away. Fun morning.

Now I should scoop the sidewalk. Dang it.

Middle of the Night Musings

Since starting this blog, the thing I have resisted the most is getting too personal with my postings. I’m not sure if I am quite ready to share much of my real personal life. Just a hang-up I have. Of course with as few people as there are that read this,I wouldn’t be sharing with too many  anyway. 😀

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Twenty One Years



Someone born on the day Kurt Cobain took his own life can now legally drink. Soak that in for a moment.

I was just shy of 24 years old when it happened.  I was not a huge fan and quite honestly never got what the big deal was about them. I liked their music well enough, but just didn’t connect on the level some people did. I hated the “grunge” label on the Seattle music scene. That was more about what they were wearing, in my opinion, than the homogeneity of the music coming out of the Pacific Northwest. But god damn did I like the hell out of most of those bands.

Cobain’s love/hate relationship with his celebrity was understandable. Here was a guy who rightfully considered himself an artist who, like many creative types, probably would have been happy with a small but loyal following that really got it. Make enough off of your art to live and be satisfied that there were people who knew where you were coming from. But to have that level of fame explode in your face like that must have been quite the shock to the system made even more uncomfortable by a nagging feeling that most of your “fans” just weren’t the people you were aiming for. Add the symbiotic twin demons of addiction and depression and something bad was bound to happen. (Been dealing with the latter for many years myself but thankfully not the former. My drug problem was of a completely different nature.)

Maybe if he could have interpreted his success as having tapped into something meaningful but expressed accessibly enough for millions to love, things might have been different. Maybe this and maybe that, nothing but maybes are left after a suicide. Even with a note there will always be more questions than answers.

The biggest lesson that probably should be taken from his death is get help. And if that first help isn’t working, get different help. And for the sake of all that love you, keep trying until you find the help that works. And I know from personal experience how much mental illness can cost a person and how fuckin’ hard it can be sometimes. But you gotta try.

The temptation is to think you are a burden, but death is damn heavy on the shoulders as well. And it is a weight that will never fully go away for those left behind.

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