All this was very loose guessing, and I don’t pretend it was ingenious or scientific. I wasn’t any kind of Sherlock Holmes. But I have always fancied I had a kind of instinct about questions like this. I don’t know if I can explain myself, but I used to use my brains as far as they went, and after they came to a blank wall I guessed, and I usually found my guesses pretty right.

– John Buchan’s The Thirty-Nine Steps.

In Salvador Dali’s “Fifty Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship”, he mentions that painters should not live in a land filled with green. If you are going to have green let it be the peaceful silver green of olives and myrtles, as the screaming oxygen vomiting chlorophillic greens that surround us here in western pennsylvainia will suck the painters will right out of you.  Also flowers, also the sea. Painters are delicate and thier eye is fragile. Too much breaks things, so have a care what you turn your eye to, painters!  Dali, savior of painting, talks through his moustache at us, you are meant to paint, not drown, so don’t drown it in it!

Late July is my favorite time of year for flowers, the tail end of daisys, the full glory of the orange day lilies, and the queen anne’s lace just starting to wake up alongside the less common, but prettiest when it happens cornflower blue flower that pops up on the edges of the queen anne’s lace. The corn is high and vibrates that green screaming noise over the rolling hillsides, and most days are sunny and blue and full of fat fluffy clouds.  I spend my time motoring around in my tiny silver car, drowning with a smile.

Life has not always been as good as it is now, and sometimes it feels like, never mind the green and the flowers,  I’d be fine drowning just in how greatful I am.

My grandfather passed away last month. My grandfather and I had been sadly estranged for the past couple of years, because of the evil curse my family labors under, but the last thing he ever gave me was a golden book of Dali paintings. It sits by the treadmill in the basement, as I like to put it up on the magazine rack and stare at Columbus Discovering America as I sweat out my three miles. It feels good, and I’m greatful.

My sister put on a world class bridal shower for me this past weekend, followed by a night of epic partying with our ridiculously awesome friends. In little over two months I get to marry my best friend, and it’s all starting to feel like the countdown to christmas.

This week I get to wait out on amazing news of a dear friend of mine possibly being prego, and there is a new issue of Phonogram out.  (buy it!) You may notice my name in there, as this is the issue my backup Indie Dave short runs. It vibrates weird in my head like an inside out mirror, but there it is. From the first time I read something of Kieron’s writing and he called all the trees sluts, I knew we would be jolly friends. Without him I never would have made it over here to this land where everything I see is wonderful all the time, and I will never forget the lessons I learned fighting by his side in the comics trenches. Long live Comics and Dali and green growing things that scream!