May 14, 2008
USA Today, Canada tomorrow?
Well, something has finally happened in our lives that has nothing do with our child. And just in time. She is on the brink of becoming remarkably conceited.
Still beaming from our recent mention in Pop Candy, the USA Today blog of hipster Whitney Matheson, our feelings of fulfillment were even more pronounced upon receiving a copy of Canadian hipster/literary magazine Broken Pencil in the mail yesterday.
Here is the cover.
Note that the ultra-hip semi-Asian chick on the cover is not Robbi.
And here is the article on page 9 (click on the thumbnail to get a larger, almost readable version).
"Product of the Month?!" Who knew? Idiots'Books has been noticed in the great land of our northern neighbors.
For those of you who only read this blog to see pictures of babies, here is Alden aloft.
What might seem like good old fashioned fun and games is actually a very useful way to rid her tiny abdomen of gas, thus improving her mood and creating delightful baby-sized burping sounds.
As for you fine people at Broken Pencil (especially Norah), thanks for the notice.
Posted by bogenamp at 12:24 PM
April 02, 2008
Hip and Hidden
I'm going to disappoint most of you right now by talking about something other than Alden. Yesterday we received a new subscription order from a woman in San Francisco, someone whose name was not familiar to us. I wrote her an email asking how she found out about us. She replied that she had read about us on Whitney Matheson's blog Pop Candy, a USA Today publication dedicated to "unwrapping pop culture's hip and hidden treasures." Whitney had been running a monthly series on comics in weekly installments. The fourth installment was a list of her top 25 "personal favorites" and friends, we appear as number nine. This fact leads us to a number of conclusions:
1) we are hip (did you suspect this?)
2) we are hidden (no surprise here)
3) Idiots'Books is part of pop culture
4) if Whitney Matheson has her way, we are in the process of being unwrapped
We were delighted to be included along with the likes of Lilli Carre and Renee French, real live figures in the indie comics world.
If this external affirmation compels you to subscribe to Idiots'Books or just buy a book or two for your loved ones, who are we to stop you?
And here's a baby picture, just for the hell of it.
Posted by bogenamp at 11:00 PM
February 25, 2008
Better than Nothing
Perhaps you are thinking that it is odd that I, who can ramble on and on about nothing much at all has been so silent in the wake of perhaps the most thrilling festival to hit Chestertown in decades. Believe me when I say that I want to write about the weekend and the fun we all had, but that I simply haven't had the time.
We are heavy into production of Volume 13, a book about nuns. We thought it would be nice to make the book in a rather complicated way and now are paying the price for our ambition. In 52 hours or so we will pull out of town in the predawn hours of Wednesday morning, en route to Philadelphia for the flower show.
For tonight, I will leave you with two things. This link to Robbi's blog sheds some light onto the first night of Idiots'Fest.
And this image of the ribs in mid-smoke give you a true glimpse into the steaming heart of what you missed if you made the grave error of choosing not to join us for the Fest.
I will post the rest of the story in days ahead, as well as pictures of a strange new baby-related device we were given the other day. Robbi grows ever more profound. 37 days to go...
Posted by bogenamp at 01:25 AM
February 14, 2008
Hot Off the Presses
The Chestertown paparazzi has discovered our little fest. I will let the following speak for itself.
Click on the images to get a closer view.
Note: contrary to appearances, there will be no boy scouts at Idiots'Fest.
Ming Weigel, you fool. Some things are worth getting fired over.
Posted by bogenamp at 11:48 AM | Comments (2)
February 13, 2008
Ready to Rock
There has been far too much talk of babies on this blog of late. I'm sorry about that. The thing has yet to arrive and already it's dictating the conversation. Fortunately for all of us, a monumental event looms on the near horizon, an event of such intrigue and significance that even if the baby were here, we would leave it unattended in its baby contraption while we headed off to Idiots'Fest in all its glory.
What's that, you say? Idiots'Fest?
Yes, my friends, the festival is upon us. If you still need convincing, you just haven't taken a close enough look at who is performing and what they are going to be doing:
In case you are the sort that is swayed by pictures of grown men playing rock band in someone's basement, here's a little behind the scenes look into a festival rehearsal that went down in Williamstown in January.
Here is Rich Flynn, in his glory.
And Brian Wecht, master of the improbable.
Yes, he can play both instruments at once. He can and he will.
Here is Brian Slattery, uncertain what to do with my harmonica mic.
Rest assured, his uncertainty was short-lived.
Here is Aidan who, at 16, has at least 40 years of hard-driving drummer's angst stored up in his hard-driving drummer's heart.
Aidan is the core of the rock. Just you wait and see.
Of course, the other festival performers, Jim, Victor, Drew, Robbi, and me, aren't even pictured here. Your heart is racing with just this tiny taste of what marvels await. I'm pointing this out to save you the soul-numbing disappointment that you will surely feel if, come Sunday morning, you wake to find the Rock has passed you by.
I'm talking to you, Ming Weigel. If you are a no-show at Idiots'Fest, I will have to go on believing that you do not actually exist.
I'm talking to all of you who are not Ming Weigel, too.
Posted by bogenamp at 10:57 AM | Comments (2)
January 26, 2008
Collaboration
When Robbi and I first proposed to teach our Winter Study class at Williams, we were mostly curious to know if others would be interested in trying their hands at producing the kind of books that we have been working on. We were pleased that enough students were interested to meet the minimum enrollment numbers. But we arrived on campus in early January with decidedly low expectations. A number of factors were working against us.
First off, Winter Study is really only three weeks long. Not enough time, we worried, to generate collaborative creative content with a partner one had never worked with before. Surely not enough time to piece together an attractive, interesting, coherent narrative.
Also, the general idea of winter study is to provide a low-key, low-stress outlet for students between two intense academic semesters. Many of the courses are neither rigorous nor time-consuming. To work according to plan, ours would have to be both.
Finally, collaboration between writers and artists is a pretty novel concept. Typically, especially in college, writers workshop with other writers and artists critique with other artists. We had no idea how quickly our students would be able to adjust to the mixed media aspect of the course.
We had 12 students, evenly divided between guys and gals. We had a fairly even mix of class years. We had six writers and six artists.
Given the short time frame, we had sent our students homework to complete over the break. We emailed them three paragraphs and three images. The writers were instructed to "respond" to the images and the artists to the paragraphs. On the first day of class we looked at the responses together as a group. It was interesting to see how stunningly various were the responses to the same prompts. Our hope was that it would give our students, and us, a good sense of aesthetics and interest to the end of helping us come up with compelling collaborative pairs. We gave our students the opportunity to write us an email that night letting us know who they might like to partner with, not along the lines of who they liked personally, but along the lines of creative compatibility. We took this info, added our own judgment, and assigned pairs. The next day we spent most of the class period looking through an anthology that was the course text, looking at and discussing the work of established indie comics makers. At the end of the class, we announced the partner pairings and sent them off to spend the weekend starting the conversation about a collaborative project.
The rest of the course was essentially a workshop to discuss and develop their works. We met three times a week for two hours as a group, and each pair met independently with Robbi and me for an hour long tutorial session.
Our biggest worry was that the groups would have difficulty getting off the ground with the initial idea from which to depart. Not a single group struggled in this respect. Their ideas were interesting and surprising. The creative direction seemed drawn from a place of genuine collaboration, not from one person's aesthetic or agenda overriding the other.
I'll cut to the quick:
Our students were amazing. They worked their butts off. They took risks. They articulated their ideas with passion and eloquence.
We were so pleased that we took them bowling. Writers versus artists. In a match to the death.
Here is Robbi's crew.
And here are some of mine.
It was a well-contested match, but I am happy to report that the writers prevailed by a slim margin. Our victory can be attributed to a general lack of will among the artists. I cite this example: at one point one of our more audacious writers, name of K-Town, stole the 8-pound pink ball that many of the artists had been using. The act was overt and witnessed by various members of the artist camp, but beyond minor protest, the theft went uncontested, the result of crumpled spirits. From that point, my people cruised to easy victory. We aren't above a little necessary sabotage.
Perhaps the highlight of the evening was the purchase and consumption of the "cod roll", a curious item from the snack bar that fascinated one member of my team.
The month continued and the work continued to exceed our wildest dreams. We had hoped for not much more than good thinking on the topic of cross-media collaboration. But complete narratives were emerging, complete with strong, thoughtful syntheses of writing and images.
The six projects were, in a nutshell:
1) a mock-academic piece on Emily Dickinson that gradually but unflinchingly pilloried the life and work of the misunderstood Belle
2) the tragicomic tale of the dawning of consciousness of Moshe the "just add water" Tyrannosaurus Rex, complete with questions of ontology and the premature onset of epistemological gloom
3) a process piece on the inner narrative of a superhero/assassin, who, in the end, is revealed to be just like you and me, an honest average Joe who goes to bed in his suburban house each night
4) the quiet, yet powerful story of a disabled woman trapped in her upstairs apartment, taking the voyeur's long look at the world passing by outside her window
5) the story of two college lovers poignantly reunited on the occasion of a wedding told in an alternating narrative of photograph and prose
6) a quirky, knowing voicing of male insecurity that unfolds across a 96-inch accordion-fold dreamscape of self-aggrandizement and surreal fantasy
Further, our students seemed motivated to actually produce finished books, formatted in InDesign, the professional page layout program we use for our books. Robbi did a two-hour seminar on the software and expected that the students would be overmatched by the new technology. Instead, each group created sophisticated layouts, which would enable them to print and assemble multiple finished copies of their book.
We set up a bookmaking lab in our classroom and spent a full day printing, trimming, folding, scoring, gluing, and stapling.
They were tireless and amazing.
In spite of the usual fare of errors and delays on the part of the printer.
It was incredibly gratifying to see the care they took in assembling their finished books.
And the pride they obviously felt in beholding them.
On the last day of class, this past Wednesday, we had an open house for the public. I would have been happy with a dozen or so visitors. Instead, over the course of two hours, 50-60 people came through to see the finished books, students and professors alike.
Perhaps it was the spread of delicious cheeses that drew the crowds, but our students' work spoke for itself. They were absolute stars.
Inspired by the spirit of collaboration, one of our artists penned the following illustration, which I may have made into a poster for the benefit of generations of collaborators to come. It speaks volumes, I think.
I am reluctant to ever teach another course for fear that no other group of students could match up to the ones we had this month. For those of you who care about the place, it seems that Williams is in very good hands.
Posted by bogenamp at 10:05 AM
January 06, 2008
Idiots'Fest Web site
Friends, it is time to make your travel plans. Idiots'Fest 2008: Subscribers that Rock is a mere six weeks away.
Robbi has built a rather nice festival Web site. Check it out by clicking here.
It can also be seen here.
Or here.
If you must, you can see it by clicking here, but if you click here, consider yourself unwelcome at the festival. We try to be reasonable, accommodating people but we do have our limits.
Know this: Idiots'Fest is going to be a pretty wonderful thing, if only because of the extraordinary cast of characters who will be strutting their stuff for your enjoyment.
It may not seem convenient to travel to Chestertown in the middle of February, but if I were a betting man, I'd wager that you would not regret it.
Unless you dislike things that rock. If this is the case, you might be better served by clicking here.
Posted by bogenamp at 02:47 PM
November 28, 2007
Idiots'Fest 2008: Subscribers that Rock
On our recent drive to Georgia to see my brother graduate from boot camp, Robbi and I started planning a small dinner party for a group of friends in Chestertown. Three hours later we had laid the groundwork for a full-blown gathering of writers, musicians, and friends. The idea was that the performers would all be drawn from the Idiots'Books subscribership and that the entire subscribership would be invited to spectate. We have been planning and scheming for a few weeks now, and the general outline of the weekend is set. It is our great pleasure to announce that the first annual Idiots'Books literature and music festival, Idiots'Fest 2008: Subscribers that Rock, is in the offing.
Although the majority of the festival will take place on Saturday, February 16, we're going to kick things off the night before at the Rose O'Neill Literary House at Washington College here in Chestertown.
Robbi and I are going to do a reading/slideshow from a couple of our books while two musician friends, Brian Slattery and Drew Bunting, provide underscoring in the vein of old school filmstrips. We intend not to practice but to try it and just see what happens.
Afterward, Brian and Drew will perform an acoustic set, the two playing some combination of guitar, banjo, fiddle, and mandolin, and both of them singing. It is possible that I might join them on harmonica for a song or two. There will likely be folk, blues, bluegrass, old-time, and possibly some speed-metal to be heard.
For those that do not know, here are Brian and Drew.
Brian is an incredibly versatile (and badass) musician who specializes in clawhammer banjo and old-time fiddle and who can credibly navigate the guitar, mandolin, and a few other instruments, from what I understand. Here is an awesome depressing song that Brian recorded with a group of friends. Brian is the one singing and playing the banjo. If you aren't tempted to do yourself in after hearing the song, you probably weren't listening closely enough.
Perhaps no one more seamlessly integrates punk rock and the life of the cloth than our friend Drew Bunting, musician and Episcopal priest. I wish I had a link to some of Drew's songs so that I wouldn't just have to tell you what a gifted songwriter, musician, and singer he is. From being the most beloved musician in our college class, to fronting bands that range from old-time to punk to gospel, Drew has rocked the music scene in every town in which he has lived. He has released two albums (Treat Your Buggy Well and I Want to Believe) and is currently working on a third. It is Drew's general preference only to be pictured standing behind rowdy children.
Drew, Brian, another friend Ilya Garger, and I formed the core of an old time band called The Motherpluckers during our Williams years. We used to perform in party dresses, big hats, and shit-kicking boots. Do I need to say more?
Hearing Drew and Brian play together is a rare opportunity. I know you won't miss it.
On Saturday, things will move to Bookplate, a used bookstore on Cross Street in Chestertown run by our friends Tom Martin and Sarah Myers. We have done several readings there over the past year and all of the Idiots'Books are for sale there. And they have a huge empty back room that we are going to fill up with you all on Saturday, February 16.
My friend and stand-up comedian Victor Wishna will kick things off mid-afternoon. I have it on good authority that Victor is "the third-funniest Jewish comedian in New York."
Victor gave the main toast at Robbi's and my wedding, and he used the opportunity to expose my many weaknesses, character flaws, and embarrassing moments. Those attending Subscribers that Rock can reasonably assume that I will be publicly depantsed again. If you think you might enjoy this sort of thing, by all means add it to the list of reasons to attend the festival.
(It is worth noting that I have never in my entire life seen Victor look as serious as he does in the photo above. He is, in fact, a friendly, gentle guy.)
ADDENDUM: This just in from Victor, anxious to shed his "stern guy" image. Here he is in the midst of telling a hilarious joke. If you could see the audience, you would note how rapt and delighted they were at this moment.
After Victor does his thing, Robbi and I will do another Idiots'Books slide show/reading, premiering at least one new book in the process. Provided the experiment from the evening before has not gone horribly wrong, Brian and Drew will add music.
Next up will be Brian Slattery once again, this time in the guise of writer. This past August, Brian released his first novel, Spaceman Blues: A Love Song. Click here to read a bit about the book and peruse some of the incredibly positive reviews.
Here's the catch: Rather than merely "read" from his book, Brian will be singing from it while being accompanied by a slate of musician friends (all subscribers, I assure you).
They are:
Brian Wecht on sax and keyboards. Brian is a college classmate. We have recently decided to become best friends.
Rich Flynn on bass. Rich is awesome. He is so awesome.
Aidan Shepard on drums. I knew Aidan when I lived in Williamstown and he was not yet the accomplished percussionist he has become. He is a mysterious fellow, powerful, terrifying.
This photo really says it all.
Drew Bunting will join the fun on guitar and/or mandolin. Here's another look at Drew, sans child. See how unhappy he looks?
And, potentially, I could play harmonica. We'll see.
In case you're worried, Brian has done this sort of thing before, and that time, at least, it worked pretty well. Click here to listen to some cuts from his reading at Barbes up in Brooklyn a few months ago. It's really something to behold.
After a short break, the aforementioned Brian Wecht, a fellow who has been studying mathematics and physics basically nonstop since the day he was born, will give a short, riveting lecture on an esoteric topic that will probably make your brain ache. From what I hear, he will be accompanied by musicians. I can provide no further details at this time.
After Brian W's lecture, our featured guest, novelist, short-story writer, essayist, and film critic Jim Shepard, will be doing a reading.
Jim has been my literary mentor since college, and is one of the greatest teachers I've ever had. He is a finalist for this year's National Book Award for fiction for his story collection Like You'd Understand, Anyway, and we are deeply honored that he has agreed to join us.
You may read the New York Times review of Like You'd Understand, Anyway -- by none other than Lemony Snicket -- here.
You may peruse and purchase Jim's six novels and three story collections here.
You can read a nice interview on the topic of Jim's latest novel, Project X, here.
After Jim's reading, Brian Slattery, Jim, and Victor Wishna (who has released a book of interviews with the greatest American playwrights) will be on hand to sign their books and make pleasant small talk while we set up dinner. Although the plan is still a bit hazy, we plan to serve barbeque and appropriate side dishes in vast quantities. The food will be available for a small donation.
Around 7:00, or whenever we get done eating, Drew will gather the musicians for a full-blown concert. In addition to playing a hearty stable of original tunes, Drew is likely to dabble in far-flung and unexpected corners of the musical universe.
There are likely to be contests and prizes. It is even possible that Drew and the others will perform Free Bird. I cannot say.
Eventually, we will all go home, but there's no predicting when this will be. All that can be said for certain at this point is that this is going to rock. And that you are all invited.
We're hoping that you are taking out your pen right now and circling February 15 and 16th on your calendar.
Posted by bogenamp at 09:46 PM | Comments (1)
November 05, 2007
Chesapeake Life, take two
Loyal readers will remember that we were mentioned in the February 2007 of Chesapeake Life magazine. An exciting proposition, to be sure, the only downside of which was the editor's fundamental misunderstanding of our core. Indeed, we were described as "children's books", which caused us to worry about the delicate young minds that might inadvertently read our books and be forever scarred.
We were much happier with our mention in the November issue of Chesapeake Life, the focus this time being on the release of St. Michaels, the Town that Somehow Fooled the British.
Here's a closer view, for anyone who might want to read it.
And here's a link for anyone who might want to buy it.
Posted by bogenamp at 10:28 PM
November 02, 2007
One Night Only
Tonight (and only tonight) at 6:00pm at Chestertown's Bookplate, Robbi and I will be reading from Idiots'Books Volume 11, George Washington Slept Here. The occasion is the first friday of the month of November. There will be cheese and wine and crackers. There will be pre-holiday cheer. We will be, as is our custom, projecting the images while reading the text. If the crowd demands it, we will also read St. Michaels, the Town that Somehow Fooled the British as it shares Volume 11's Eastern Shore theme. If the crowd demands it, we will do a second reading at 7:00. And another and another until the crowd grows weary and stumbles home.
Here is the ad from this week's copy of the Kent County News.
Note that George Washington and his pals do have boots. Alas, the boots are black and, on the newsprint, blended into the black background, the gentle white lines that defined them "plugged" by ink spreading freely in the loose fibers of the newsprint.
Which is all the more reason to come to the reading where the boots will be seen against a white background.
We hope to see you there but acknowledge that it would have been prudent to give you a bit more notice.
I blame Robbi.
Posted by bogenamp at 12:35 PM
October 23, 2007
Calling Suburban Maryland
With the recent mailing of Volume 10, The Clearing, to the Idiots'Books subscribership, year one of Idiots'Books officially came to an end. This meant that the 100 or so people that signed up in October 2006 for full-year subscriptions had reached the end of their allotted bookage. As all subscription services do, we sent out a series of reminders, gentle at first, then slightly more urgent, then downright manipulative. Our final ploy was to design a postcard featuring a variety of lame excuses for not having done something accompanied by a phrase meant to cast he who had failed to resubscribe in an unflattering light.
The postcard was accompanied by a pre-addressed, stamped envelope, thus compelling the reluctant resubscriber to spend $80 so as not to waste $.41. However counterintuitive, the strategy has been moderately successful. Until yesterday, when an envelope arrived with the postmark "Suburban Maryland."
Let's reflect on that for a minute. Suburban Maryland? Not a very helpful geographical distinction. There are, for example, several cities in Maryland, all of which have outlying suburban areas.
The contents of the envelope were even more cryptic: our resubscription card had been filled out with the following phrase, an obvious allusion to Idiots'Books Volume VI.
The mystery was completed by what was missing from the envelope: namely, a check. The question now is whether this unidentified denizen of "Suburban Maryland" intended to confound us or merely forgot to include the check (and the accompanying identifying information) in the envelope.
Only time will tell, I suppose. But if you are he who intended to resubscribe, know this: you will receive no further books until you identify yourself and submit payment in full.
And you're not getting another free stamp.
Posted by bogenamp at 05:44 PM | Comments (1)
October 16, 2007
George Washington's Bare Butt
The following ad appeared in this week's copy of the Kent County News.
Yes, friends, we have now stooped to making light of the father of our nation. For those of you willing to join us in this irreverant pastiche, Idiots'Books is offering a 2008 calendar which features no fewer (and no more) than 13 full-color paintings of our first president in a variety of compromising positions.
Subscribers will be sent a copy in due course, but those non-subscribers who want to purchase one for their kitchens, bathrooms, or local houses of history, will be given a chance to do so online soon. The calendars will also be available at Chestertown's own Bookplate later this week.
Posted by bogenamp at 11:06 PM
October 14, 2007
SPX 2007
As was the plan, we set off for DC Friday morning, taking a wild swing through the heart of the city to deliver some art and finding ourselves eventually in Bethesda, where the Small Press Expo has been happening for many years now. We arrived and checked in. We found our table. We started to set up.
SPX was being held, as these things often are, in a hotel ballroom.
Our table covering had grown rather linty. And hairy. Damn cats.
It didn't take too long to set up.
The thing started at 2:00. While waiting for the crowds, we had some lunch.
Eventually, people came to look at our books.
Even Pete came. Pete Everett. Perhaps the nicest guy I know.
The first day of the show was satisfying, but not extraordinary. We sold some books, met some folks, saw some other work we admire. In fact, as soon as I have the time to do some sorting and scanning, I'll do an entry featuring some of our favorite stuff from the show.
After the show ended, we drove back into the city to the house of a friend, Stella, who had prepared some truly excellent crispy toast/tomato/mozzarella/prosciutto/balsamic/olive oil thing.
Living without a kitchen as we do, we sometimes forget that such things can be prepared, and often are, by people not that much different than ourselves. So struck were we with the aesthetics of the treat that for a while we sat, content just to look, unable to actually eat. And then we got over it and ate with enthusiasm. It had been a long day.
After dinner we played with Stella's very small dogs.
Ethel
And Frank
Combined, the two of them probably weigh the same as one of Iggy's legs, and yet they terrorized her relentlessly. Iggy is a huge wuss. Takes after me.
In the morning, we stopped by a neighborhood farmer's market.
The tomatoes were nice and red. The apples were nice and firm.
Back at SPX, we decided to try a new strategy for day 2. A lot of comics have really colorful, graphical, vivid, exciting-looking covers and are entirely black and white inside. Our covers, on the other hand, are rather spare, employ lots of white space, and are generally less visually arresting than the insides of our books. At a place like SPX, getting people to stop and open the books is the biggest challenge. And so we displayed a number of our books open on the table, that Robbi's illustrations might have a chance to catch some eyes.
The strategy worked. We got a lot more traffic the second day, and a lot more sales. Like this one (actual sale, not simulated).
And look at this happy couple, dreaming of the ways in which their lives will improve as a result of having been introduced to Idiots'Books. It warms the heart.
I had to take a picture of this gentleman, who apparently wears only purple suits.
He wore a different purple suit on Friday. I wish that I had thought to take a picture.
Sales were so lively that we actually sold out of a few titles. Facial Features of French Explorers was the first to go, followed by Understanding Traffic. Ten Thousand Stories was the top seller, however. By the end of the show, people were coming by the table telling us that they had been directed from earlier browsers to check our stuff out. It made us feel good.
Back at Stella's, we took the dogs for a walk.
I decided to do some experiments with the wide-angled lens.
The results were satisfying.
We went to downtown Bethesda for some dinner. On the way back, we came upon this upsetting sticker on the back of a sign.
For those of you who cannot read, the sign says, "I hate Duke." This statement is directed not toward European royalty, but toward my beloved Duke University Blue Devils, and if I may conjecture, most pointedly toward their very fine men's basketball program. As a Duke fan, I found the sticker hurtful. I looked to my companions for support. What I found was Stella, leaping with delight.
Stella is a fan of the Maryland Terrapins. Maryland fans tend not to think much of Duke or Duke fans for that matter. It is amazing that Stella and I are on speaking terms. Or should I say, were on speaking terms. After her latest display, I might have to reconsider.
We headed back over the bridge this morning and stopped on the way back at the outlet malls not far from the 50/301 split. Robbi has begun to feel somewhat confined by her clothing, and the time had come to consider some wardrobe enhancements.
After being turned away by Old Navy, we found our way to Gap, where there was a small, yet serviceable maternity section. At this point we were too caught up in a whirlwind of choosing, trying on, and evaluating to take any photos, a thing that I very much regret. For those of you who have not seen maternity pants, they are demoralizing garments. Though remarkably useful.
As was the case when we returned from the Museum of Comic and Cartoon festival last June, we have an enormous box of books and comics that we acquired at the show to go through. There are a lot of people doing really wonderful things out there. I'll share some of my favorites in days ahead.
Posted by bogenamp at 11:46 PM | Comments (31)
October 11, 2007
Idiots at SPX
I suppose I could have given you all more notice, but in case it is of interest to any of you, Robbi and I will be in Bethesda, MD, at the Small Press Expo tomorrow and Saturday. SPX describes itself as "America's premiere independent cartooning and comic arts festival." We will be standing behind a six-foot table peddling our wares along with hundreds of other people who make books and self-publish or have their work produced by small presses.
The majority of the other folks will be selling books that fall more neatly under the "comics" umbrella. As has been discussed here before, we are outliers to this genre. In fact, the organizer of SPX wrote me a cautionary email indicating that, even though our books were "rather nifty looking", we weren't exactly comics, and so might be disappointed by the lack of interest displayed by comic purists.
We are prepared for potential ostracization.
But it would be swell to see some of our ardent fans (and friends) there, strolling the aisles, lunging toward our table with lusty consumer desire, yelling loudly and with enthusiasm about how much they like our books and how, had they ten thousand dollars hard cash, they would spend every penny on Idiots'Books, again and again until we ran out of ink.
Any takers?
Anyway, the SPX is at:
Marriott Bethesda North Hotel & Conference Center
5701 Marinelli Road.
North Bethesda, MD 20852
301-822-9200
The hours are:
2pm-8pm on Friday, October 12 and
10am07pm on Saturday, October 13
The price is $8 for the day or $15 for the weekend.
We hope to see you there.
Posted by bogenamp at 03:53 PM
September 25, 2007
Words Without Pictures
I've wanted to post these last few days but have felt disadvantaged by the lack of photographic ballast. As much as I value words, I know that people really don't much care to read them. At least not without some goofy pictures of my dog to look at when the prose gets tiresome. The new camera has been ordered but has not yet arrived, and I have been hesitant to venture forth alone. I have grown accustomed to collaborating with Robbi. Naked words seem much less appropriate now than they did were before.
I have just consulted the FedEx tracking information and am gratified and relieved to find that our new camera will arrive tomorrow. I am a bit wary of the camera because it represents a departure from the run-of-the-mill point-and-click that has served us so well for years. This camera has two lenses: one a regular sort of lens and the other a wide-angle lens. Robbi has coveted this camera for some time now, ever since she saw one owned by our former colleague. The crushing weight of her envy nearly ruined the friendship.
Here is the camera in question.
I am unnerved by its odd shape and extra lens. I am not predisposed to embrace change and am fundamentally skeptical. If the camera is not to our liking, I'll grumble a lot and give Robbi a really hard time. If it turns out to be a great camera, I'll probably take all the credit and hog the camera so that she never gets a chance to use it.
In other news, Volume 10 is finished and printing. For better or for worse, I spun a story around the series of odd, disjointed illustrations Robbi sent my way. I'm far too close to the story right now to cast a reliable vote as to whether it's any good, but I do think that it's lovely to look at. And sometimes that's enough for a book.
Posted by bogenamp at 08:24 PM
September 21, 2007
Some Good Ink
The last few days have had their share of ups and downs. On the last day in Chicago, our camera (which has admittedly endured such insults as being placed on top of a car that we then proceeded to drive away) made a horrible noise and died dramatically. Though I suspected that the camera was not well when I heard the noise, I hoped for the best and slipped it back into my pocket. It was not until hours later, when my traveling companion Matt noticed the warm late afternoon sunlight on the red paint of the turbine under our engine's wing, that I dared to test the camera's will. I pushed the power button. There was a defeated grinding of tiny, tired gears, and although the camera agreed to turn itself on, the thing refused to focus. It was with some nostalgia that I took this final picture, already too late to catch the fleeting light.
The camera has served us well. I am tempted to recite a poem on this, the occasion of its last hurrah, but I know none fitting to commemorate the loyal workhorse it has been. Rather, I shall let it slip into graceful obsolescence in the back of some drawer of neglected miscellany. I cannot bring myself to actually dispose of it. But neither do I have an urn appropriate to hold its compromised remains.
All of this is to apologize in advance for my failure to document the dramas of the past few days. I spent most of the week in Baltimore, but found, attempting to drive home to Chestertown late Wednesday night, that when the battery light comes to life on one's dashboard panel, engine death is soon to follow. But the battery light was just the beginning of the excitement. Between that moment and the utter failure of all vehicular systems that followed a few minutes later, the brake light, the "check engine" light, and the airbag light also lit up. And so I took out my cell phone to call AAA. Since we seem genetically predisposed to car failure, we have the really special level of AAA coverage and may be towed up to 100 miles without being charged. I called AAA and was informed that I would be picked up within 63 minutes, and I cannot help but wonder what byzantine algorithm was responsible for the estimate.
While I waited, my good friend Christian came to keep me company. And to bring the two suitcases and five pillows I had left on the third floor of his home. Did I mention that neither of the suitcases had yet been packed. He is a good friend.
Eventually the tow truck came. If not for the death of the camera, I would include dramatic photos of the Sentra being loaded on to the back of the truck, which was, I later learned from the driver, less than one week old. The man was proud of his truck. And with good reason. It was a beautiful rig, and in it we traveled across the Bay Bridge as midnight passed.
If I had my camera, I would also have taken photographs of tonight's excitement, the official book launch reading for St. Michaels, the Town that Somehow Fooled the British at Artiste Locale of St. Michaels. There was fanfare and excitement. Many copies of the book were purchased. Robbi and I engaged in banter. You would have loved it.
Here is the postcard we sent out to advertise the arrival of the book.
Some of you may already have received it. Others may not have on account of our having run out of mailing labels. Sorry about that. We have ordered more.
The day's most exciting news was the very flattering review we received from the Star Democrat, the main paper for the Eastern Shore. The woman who wrote the review really understood what we're up to, and did a great job, so we think, of pointing out what is funny and interesting about the book.
You can read the review here if you are interested.
And now I must go play Scrabble with Robbi. For a long time we played "make interesting words" Scrabble, because trying to be strategic by placing one's words on the various bonus squares seemed too onerous and time-consuming. But we just got a computer Scrabble game that makes the whole thing go faster, so for now at least, we are back to cutthroat score-based Scrabble.
There will be no photos of the Scrabble.
Posted by bogenamp at 10:52 PM | Comments (1)
September 05, 2007
In a Funk
My trip to New York City came and went without incident. I was unharmed by the city, and really not even very seriously harassed. For whatever reason, the traffic flowed, the train was on time, my meeting ended on time (early even). Shocking, yes, but I don't want to be the naysayer that won't then admit it when something goes better than expected. So I grumble today not about New York but about the daunting task of writing Volume 10.
As I mentioned a few days ago, Robbi and I have decided to invert the normal course of things this time around. Usually I write and then she illustrates. As was the plan for Volume 10, she has produced a body of illustrations that it is now my task to transform into a viable story. The drawings are vintage Robbi: visceral, messy, caustic, intriguing. They are wonderful and interesting, and yet I cannot say what I will do with them. I had thought a story would leap into my mind the moment I saw the illustrations the way that words flood the page when I sit down to write with an empty screen. But I must admit to being a little beside myself. I want to do her illustrations justice, but my ideas so far are dull, predictable, and at best, merely "cute."
And so I will stew, as Robbi often does upon receipt of one of my manuscripts. I will let the characters churn a bit, see what significance rises from her cryptic configurations. I will see what story I can tell that refers to what she's drawn without quoting it exactly. Our best work lies in the place where words and pictures conspire to create something implied in the space between. At least that's what we tell ourselves. All of this is to say that I'm suddenly empathetic with Robbi and the terrible moods she carries about sometimes between our meeting to discuss a new book and the Eureka moment when she sits down with the pen to realize the hard-won idea.
I am trying hard to resist the funk. But it really isn't working.
Posted by bogenamp at 11:26 PM
August 31, 2007
New Ways to Waste Your Money!
It's been a while since I posted anything Idiots'Books related.
To catch you up: we finished and sent out Volume 9, The Contented between returning home from Alaska and leaving for England. We have been pleased by the volume of positive responses to The Contented, Robbi especially. As those of you who have read The Contented know well, it contains only six words. And while they are very powerful words, thoughtfully conceived, and eloquently crafted, Robbi feels quite smug about the success of a book of mostly pictures. We have received several really excellent essays in response to the Volume 9 essay competition. These will, of course, be published when we send out Volume 10 sometime in September.
Volume 10 is an experiment of sorts. Our usual approach is to start with a text of mine, discuss it in depth, figure out what we want to do with it, and then return to opposite sides of the barn: Robbi to illustrate and I to revise. For Volume 10, we thought it might be interesting to let Robbi take the first stab. She is in the process of creating a series of illustrations from which I will construct a story. Though she has not yet finished her drawings, there are a number of very interesting characters emerging, and a world is being defined. I have no idea if I'll be able to wrap a satisfying narrative around her visual skeleton, but I am looking forward to giving it a try.
But onward to money wasting, the subject of this entry. Robbi has spent the entire day updating the Idiots'Books Web site. Perhaps it will not look much different when you click here and have a look, but that's because you have no idea just how taxing and horrible it is to try to do anything with a Web site. I'd post a picture of Robbi's current state of rage and high dander, but it would haunt your dreams for weeks to come. Needless to say, she was successful, but at quite a price. I now must speak to her in calming tones and give her sedatives if she is to have any hope of getting to sleep tonight.
Come to think of it, those things are not going to work. Not this time. It might be time for the stake, garlic, and silver bullet,
In spite of the trauma suffered by Robbi, I do suggest that you have a look at the site, if only to see how the eyeballs of the terrified British captain dance back and forth when you touch him with your mouse.
The real point of all this is, of course, that our very first hardcover, professionally printed book is now available for purchase by you. Yes you. St. Michaels: the Town that (Somehow) Fooled the British is here.
If you happen to be on our mailing list, you will receive a glossy oversized postcard drawing your attention to the availability of St. Michaels, but bleeding-edge blog reader that you are, you have the power to order it right now. Without even stopping to consider whether your money might be better spent on bread or antibiotics.
Posted by bogenamp at 11:03 PM | Comments (3)
July 31, 2007
Kind of Like Robo Cop
I have this nagging injury in my left ankle, a sharp kind of pain that flares up from time to time and eventually goes away. In the course of our fishing this summer the pain returned, and likely due to the hours upon hours I spent uncomfortably kneeling in the small rubber raft while sitting on my feet, the pain became pronounced and has yet to recede. According to my mother's husband Dean, who is an ER doc, this particular brand of tendonitis can be difficult to shake on account of its being used in every step we take. More drastic measures might be needed, he suggested. What kind of drastic measures, I asked?
Behold the medial boot.
Please, please resist the urge to envy me. I know how incredibly cool and fun the medical boot looks, but in fact, it makes getting around a bit difficult. Especially up and down the stairs. The medical boot encases one's foot in a comfortable bed of foam rubber with lots of velcro helping to keep things snug. Around the foam is a hard plastic shell that prevents the ankle from moving and protects it from people who, in sheer envy, kick peevishly at your foot. But perhaps the most ingenious feature of the medical boot is not evident with a casual glance.
The medical boot, like those expensive sneakers I was never cool enough to wear, has air pockets that fill, with the help of a small pump, and hold one's ankle snugly, as if the medical boot was giving your sore ankle a hug and saying, "Get better, man. Get better soon."
It's a compassionate little thing, the medical boot.
Perhaps the most envious was Iggy, who can scarcely leave the medical boot alone, so compelling does she find it.
And so today, as we printed many copies of Volume 9, I was encumbered by the medical boot. It is my cross to bear.
How long will I need to wear the medical boot? None can say. I'm supposed to be icing the ankle as well, but one of the things we lack in the barn is ice cubes on account of there being no ice cube trays. Something we could remedy, to be sure.
I will keep the medical boot at least through this weekend when we board the plane to England. Is having a medical boot the kind of thing that qualifies one to get on the plane early with the first class people and the children flying alone? We shall see. No pain, no unfair advantage.
Posted by bogenamp at 12:08 AM
July 29, 2007
Connecticut is Burning
I have returned from my whirlwind trip to Massachusetts. Intact.
Robbi did not join me on the trip, mostly due to the fact that she had a lot of painting to do for Volume 9. She looked like this when I left her at noon on Thursday.
And the house looked like this.
The state of the household could not be described as "thriving" at present.
The drive up was an ordeal, though it started out with such promise. I had no problem with the Delaware Memorial Bridge, the New Jersey Turnpike or the Cross Bronx Expressway through New York City.
The problem, my friends, was Connecticut, perhaps, after Texas and Florida, the most loathsome state in the union. I drove the first 15 miles of i-95 into Connecticut in exactly 93 minutes. I was completely demoralized, shuttling back and forth between despair and rage.
Iggy did her best to look cheerful, trying anything to pull me from my brooding funk.
To no avail. There is nothing that enervates me quite like traffic. All seemed to be lost. I was almost certain to be very late in picking up my sister at the Hartford airport. I had just resigned myself to long misery when...lo!...Connecticut redeemed itself by catching on fire.
"Serves you right, Connecticut," I said, driving past the impressive plume. Moments later the roadway cleared as Connecticut, defeated, allowed us to drive freely once more.
As I may have mentioned, I was driving north to visit my sisters and mother. Alas, I only saw one sister, Lindsay, who surprised me greatly by being married, and recently so.
Lindsay, who lives in Portland, was back in Massachusetts to be a bridesmaid in one of her friends' weddings. Hence the little coral number she is wearing in the pics.
The dress was a bit long. Fortunately, my mother is like a samurai with a sewing machine and removed three inches in no time.
Which created an opportunity for Iggy.
As people do when weddings have just happened, we took many combinations of photos.
Mom, Lindsay, and Me
Dean and Mom
On the way back home on Saturday, I had no problem with Connecticut, still reeling from its recent defeat.
I did pause to feel sorry for this church. I don't go to church much, but I feel bad for this one having to be situated right next to I-95. And to have to be in Connecticut, to boot.
And while we're railing against the way of things, does it seem appropriate that we drivers of cars should have to occupy the same road as trucks? At one point I was so literally surrounded that it was like I was trapped in a small room. A room that happened to be moving at 70 mph.
Home again, and we're putting the finishing touches on volume 9, which will be sent out later this week. Volume 9 has a lot of pages, and so we had to spread them all out and have a look this afternoon, trying to figure out what should go where.
Eventually, I think, we got it right.
It's the kind of book in which the order of pages is not a given. You will see. Unless you aren't a subscriber, and then you won't.
In which case, perhaps Connecticut is the best place for you.
Posted by bogenamp at 11:35 PM
June 23, 2007
MoCCA, Day 1
This entry will be short because I am weary, but I promised updates from the show, and so I shall report.
We rose and drove to the Puck building (named so for the gilded statue of Shakespeare's energetic fairy on the premises). Robbi dropped me off with a big pile of books and a white wooden shelving unit and went to park the car. Immediately after she drove away, the long line of eager vendors started to move, and I was left to tug the precariously-laden handtruck with one hand while doing my best to lug the shelving with the other. In other words, it was great fun.
Here are the way too many books we brought. We are dreamers. And fools.
Eventually Robbi showed up and we rode the freight elevator up to the seventh floor.
"Was the ride up to the seventh floor in the freight elevator an important part of the day?" you might be wondering. "Not especially," I say in reply. "And why, then, did you think it important to show us a photo of this unimportant moment?" you might rejoinder. And to you, I say that the Barnstorming is all about dull moments and the quiet dignity they portend, that this is the motto of the Barnstorming. "I did not know the Barnstorming had a motto," you say, surprised and disappointed by the lameness of the motto. Alas, this motto is born, like so many mottos must be, I fear, of postrationalization. An unimportant photo is posted on a blog and suddenly a team of bureaucrats is hired to justify its existence.
Eventually we got to the seventh floor.
We found the seventh floor largely deserted and wondered if we were, perhaps, in the wrong place. But we found table S44 and proceeded to set up the booth.
Until realizing that we had left the black sheets that cover the table and the rather shabby looking white shelving unit back at David's apartment. And so I descended from the seventh floor to the ground level (note that I have spared you from having to view a photo of this important moment from my day) and walked the mile back to David's apartment to pick up the sheets. And the mile back to the Puck building. And up the elevator again to the seventh floor. When I got there, I found Robbi, uncannily, in the same position in which I had left her.
We set up the booth.
Robbi felt empowered.
We mugged with the booth.
And then the show opened. The main exhibit area for MoCCA is on the ground floor of the Puck Building. The seventh floor, known lyrically as the Skylight Ballroom, is for the unlucky rabble who did not sign up on time, and so we are situated far, far from the main hubub of commerce that is the first floor. In some ways this was pleasant in that it was quiet and relaxing compared to the riot of the ground level, but in other ways it was disappointing in that the crowds were fairly thin throughout the day and were, even at their heights, not what one would call a din or a riot. But still it was satisfying to stand behind the table while people looked at our books.
We did not sell a great number of books for much of the day. People read and smiled, chatted and admired, but only a few shelled out actual bucks. We kept our chins high. I shilled from time to time, trying to create the appearance of an enthusiastic mob.
The strategy was not what you might call a roaring success.
We did make some new friends, trade our books for the books of others, sign up one new subscriber, hand out many other subscription forms and free postcards, collect a healthy handful of names on our mailing list and catch up with old college friend Jason Liang, who happened to be strolling by.
But we did not sell a lot of books. We dug deep into our marketing background and came up with a brilliant strategy that we will try tomorrow: dramatically slashing our prices! I mean, it's pure genius.
Comparing our prices to those of many of the other folks selling books on the seventh floor (bastard stepchild floor, to be sure), we were a bit higher across the board. A big reason for this being the fact that we print in full color (most comics are black and white or else consist of an extremely limited color palate), but when folks are wandering around MoCCA with limited funds in their pocket, it suddenly becomes a matter of competing for limited resources. And so we will gamble profits for exposure tomorrow and see if we can lure a few more fans into the fold.
At 6:00 the thing ended and we went back to David's apartment to collapse and watch TV.
The miracle of the day came later. Robbi found this, a mutant cherry, that she claims "looks like a butt."
Her words, not mine.
Posted by bogenamp at 10:52 PM
June 22, 2007
Before the Storm
We are lying in bed, still and silent for the first time in what seems like weeks. We are gazing out the window of the bedroom of our friend David's apartment in New York City. He is in South Africa filming a documentary and we are here resting on the eve of the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Arts festival which begins tomorrow morning.
Here is the view as of a few hours ago:
This is the view from the bed itself. If you walk toward the window and look down, you can see a pleasant park below and the coming and going of life in a big city in several directions. A moment ago we were drawn to the window when a large group of people in strange costumes started singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" at the tops of their lungs. This sort of thing seldom happens in Chestertown.
The last few days have been busy ones. Late Wednesday night, Robbi framed her monoprints.
Here is a shot of the finished version of the print she was working on the other night:
And here it is framed.
The prints really come to life when framed out by the clean white lines of the mat. Robbi does her own framing, but orders the frames themselves online from a place called Metroframe. They do a great job and have fantastic customer service, so if you want nice frames but can't afford to go to a nice frame shop, Metroframe is a great resource.
Here are the three finished pieces. For this show, she did one medium-sized and two small prints.
And here is one of the smaller ones up close:
Thursday we drove to Baltimore to dispense with our various pets. The cats hate travel. And somehow they can tell when we are planning to force them to get in the car and go somewhere else. In the 10 years of life with me, these cats have moved 13 times. And so they are well familiar with the subtle happenings that precede a major life change. Doing his best to mount a resistance, Oscar crawled up inside the box spring of our bed. We spent a long time looking for him around the barn and outside before I practically tore the bedroom apart, knocking our shelving unit from the wall in so doing.
Eventually the cats were crated and put in the car along with two months worth of litter and food:
Oh, how they hate it in the crate:
Back when I had no money to speak of, I used to take the cats to the vet in an orange crate with a cookie sheet on top. I stopped doing this when the vet started looking at me like I was a foul abuser. Now that I am a lowly bookmaker, I was tempted to return to the orange crate method, but I doubt that Oscar's girthy midsection would fit. He is a large, large cat.
We crossed the Bay.
And took the cats to the home of Supi Loco. I've mentioned it before, but Supi has a cat with whom she shares her home. His name is Scooter. He is very polite. He is soft and small. He and Susan have a special relationship built on trust and mutual regard. Enter Jabba the Catt and his sister. Things got a little testy.
Lily behaved like a total pill and was immediately banned to the basement. Oscar, (bulging, rotund) gentleman that he is, spent some time getting to know Scooter. Scooter didn't know what to make of Oscar's terrifyiing luminescent eyes.
Scooter made some horrible, mournful sounds.
But they worked it out. Or else Scooter got completely demoralized and gave up. I can't really tell which.
We ate dinner with Supi and our good friend Beth Duncan.
And then hit the road.
We had successfully rid ourselves of two animals, but one remained. Iggy was to be left with Christian and Emily...and Ruby, who always enjoys company.
I don't know if I've mentioned it here before, but Christian and Emily have recently joined a cult that espouses, among many other strange beliefs, the benefits to health and mind of sitting directly on the floor. I kid you not. Furniture of any kind is strictly forbidden.
I was mocking them considerably (as I am prone to do to anyone whose beliefs differ in any way from my own) when Robbi decided to join the cult as well.
Which put me in a funk.
We said our farewells to Iggy and headed home. It was about 11:00 by the time we got back to Chestertown, but there was much to be done.
Books to pack into boxes:
More books to make:
There was also clever booth signage to construct, dishes to wash, recycling to go out, and a barn to clean.
Eventually we were done. And calm returned to the hayloft.
We saw the floor for the first time in weeks.
After catching a few hours of sleep, we loaded up...
...and headed north, but not before stopping at the farm stand to not touch the ducklings...
...and stopping in Middletown for gasoline and awesome action photography.
Over the Delaware Memorial Bridge.
And up to the big city.
Perhaps this is a reflection on us, but this is how Robbi and I prefer to spend our time in New York, gazing pensively through a window at large buildings while reclining on a bed in an air conditioned room. We have neither big buildings or air conditioning in Chestertown. But we have lots of time for being pensive.
We did venture out to pick up our MoCCA name badges and get some wood-fired pizza for dinner. We even splurged on an exquisite-looking cheesecake from a fancy bakery, another thing that we do not have in Chestertown. After putting the spine cloth on 26 more copies of My Henderson Robot, enjoying some cheesecake, and staring pensively through the window at the lights of the nighttime city, we will go to sleep a full six hours earlier than we did last night and hopefully be more sprightly tomorrow for it.
Check back for photos from MoCCA tomorrow. I cannot promise that there will be ladies with battle axes and tight leather pants, but people, we can always dream.
Posted by bogenamp at 08:57 PM
June 16, 2007
A Whole New Look
I've alluded to it here, but it bears repeating that Robbi and I are headed to the Big Apple next weekend to peddle our wares at the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art Fest. Here is the festival advertisement, provided to us by the organizers with the purpose of luring enthuisastic mobs. Are you easily persuaded by such marketing? We shall see how it works on you.
If you are in New York next weekend and would enjoy swinging by to see what the MoCCA Fest is all about, the essential information about where to go and at what time can be found by clicking on this link, but the basics are that the Festival runs from 11am-6pm Saturday June 23 and Sunday June 24 at the Puck Building (293 Lafayette at Houston in Manhattan). We will be on the seventh floor standing behind a six-foot table, trying our best to explan what we are and why our books represent a solid reason to part with one's cash.
We leave for New York next Friday morning, spend Saturday and Sunday in the big scary, loud, expensive, terrifying city, and then leave for the airport at 4:00 Monday morning. From the airport we will travel to Seattle and then on to Anchorage. We spend the night on the floor of the Anchorage airport and then take a short flight across the tundra to King Salmon. From King Salmon we hop into a 5-seat bush plane for the final leg to Coffee Point, where we will spend four weeks fishing for sockeye salmon with Robbi's family (as every member of Robbi's family has done for 30 summers running).
There will be much more talk about the salmon fishing in days to come, but for now it is enough to know that we are coming down to the wire, not just in terms of getting ready for the MoCCA Fest, but also for getting our lives in some sort of order before leaving the lower-48 for four weeks. There is a long list of tasks to complete and seemingly not enough days in which to check them off.
As for the title of this entry, I am referring to the Idiots'Books site, which got a minor face-lift today. In the case that we are able to convince a bunch of new people at the MoCCA Fest that Idiots'Books is something worth learning more about, we have added a new illustration to the homepage, an image that will hopefully both explain the frying pan metaphor (which seems to be a source of no small puzzlement to people at our readings) and nicely capture the spirit of Robbi's and my collaboration. Perhaps I'm giving the image too much credit, but I think Robbi did a fine job. Check it out here. And then check out Robbi's rather thoughtful explanation of our process in coming up with the idea.
In parting, I will tell you that Robbi and I went on a hot date tonight. We walked the 300 yards to the Prince Theater, where we attended the "Pasta Fellini" event. This involved eating delicious Italian fare prepared by the folks at the Imperial Hotel (adjacent to the Prince) and then watching Fellini's La Dolce Vita. It is an excellent movie. I'd like to understand it better by reading a good critical essay if any Fellini fans out there care to recommend one.
It also involved being the only two people under 50 years old in the entire place. I'm not exaggerating. I love Chestertown.
Posted by bogenamp at 02:05 AM | Comments (2)
June 14, 2007
Good Riddance, Dawn of the Fats
I really hate to be that guy whose blog is overpopulated with cloyingly cute pictures of his various animals, and yes, I remember that just yesterday you were subjected to photos of my fat cat lying on his back and my exceedlingly shy dog cowering in the depths of her new travel crate. And yet I have little choice but to include photos of an episode that took place not two hours ago. Both of them in a surprisingly frisky mood for 11:00pm, Robbi and Iggy were playing with the dog frisbee. Robbi would throw it. Iggy would fetch it. That sort of thing. This simple equation was suddenly disrupted when Iggy got attacked by the dog frisbee, as shown.
At first, she was highly agitated and tried to extricate herself.
Eventually, she adopted a more sanguine position.
And for those of you who think I put the dog frisbee on Iggy's head for my own amusement, I tell you no, the dog did this of her own accord.
While not taking pictures of Iggy with her head stuck in the dog frisbee, I spent most of the day stuffing copies of Dawn of the Fats into envelopes with the corresponding letter, placing postage on the envelopes, and sealing the envelopes by licking each one. I am glad to be done and a bit queasy from the glue.
Be not fooled by Iggy's theatrical lounging by the mail bins.