I regularly play a game in my head where I try to imagine what my life would be like if my old job never ceased to exist.
Lately, when I play that game, I get genuinely sad when I think of all the people I wouldn’t have met this last year if my life hadn’t gone this way instead.
It’s not easy to admit. But it wasn’t easy getting here, either.
Sometimes moving on doesn’t mean being over something but rather being able to appreciate all the things that have happened instead.
Some things are easier to move on from than others, and some things, at least in small, immovable parts, are impossible to move on from completely.
They instead come with, a ghost on your shoulder, as you do your best to just move along.
I just finished the first season of Sweet Tooth (now on Netflix). I am one of those nerds who has read the book; in this case, I own every graphic novel that collects the comic book series that Sweet Tooth was adapted from (and am a massive Jeff Lemire fan, the writer/artist behind the series). So I was highly anticipating it, to say the least.
I don’t know if I can think of another recent adaptation that captures the essence of its source material as well as this one does. That’s not to say it follows the plot directly; quite the contrary, it streamlines and simplifies the sometimes complex and convoluted story the comic told. The pacing of the show is impeccable and purposeful. It also benefits from a lighter touch, the book taking a darker, bloodier, more sinister tone (which, truth be told, could be in its future).
So what’s it about? Well, that’s one of the best parts: Sweet Tooth is about EVERYTHING. It’s almost impossible to pin down its countless themes. But one of the main plot points is a sickness — a *ahem* pandemic, which will definitely hit close to home no matter who you are — that infects the world as children start being born as animal-human hybrids. Gus — our young protagonist, a boy with deer antlers, nicknamed Sweet Tooth for his affinity for treats — is one of these hybrids.
That’s all of the plot I’ll give you without spoiling the series. Give the first episode a watch and it’ll be easy to decide whether you want to continue on this journey.
The characters are the remarkable, ordinary sort, with no one being all good or bad, instead varying shades of gray. They carry the big themes of love, fear, family, trust, honesty, morality and what it means to be human.
Again, it’s about everything.
I highly recommend it.
(Kind-of spoilers for the whole series starts now, but only speaking to potential storylines. Read at your own risk.)
I was delighted to see scenes of the Alaskan landscape appear in parts of the show, as well as images of an old ship. These aspects of the comic book series were easily the most absurd and out there and it looks like the show is embracing that, along with surprises not found in the book. I’m here for it.
I’m almost done writing a book (I may have mentioned it earlier) and it has taken me to some of the darkest places writing has ever taken me (I also mentioned that in passing).
One of its lessons is about the power of being honest with yourself (and the power dishonesty can have over you).
The most powerful thing about that lesson is that you have to learn it again every day.
Being who you really are shouldn’t require bravery, but the way our world was shaped before us makes it that way.
Conversely, I want you to remember: criticism of any kind takes absolutely no bravery at all.
None.
It’s born of fear and insecurity and cowardice.
And we live in a universe where love and hope and compassion and empathy are the bravest things of all, and they’re all formed from the particles of honesty, which we have to relearn how to assemble every day.
So, in case you forgot, this post is here to remind you.
It doesn’t matter what you unlearned overnight.
You can be honest again. You can be brave again. And you can do both or be neither at any time for the rest of your life.
As if you need any more reasons to come to the Book(s) Release Party at Issues Needed on July 21st (full details on the link below and a previous blog post!), I’m going to have a super-special Book Release Party Menu with super-special prices (and no shipping & handling because… well, you know, you can just get your book right then and there).
You can scope out my new Regular Menu for upcoming appearances & conventions and the super-special Book Release Menu above.
Evolution is determined by those who act, and the same who act also determine our history and our future.
It’s not abnormal for me to get ahead of myself, so let me start over.
Let’s say you’re a cave-person, and you find yourself faced with a sabertooth tiger. If you decide to stop and think about what to do, you will be eaten. If you instinctively run away, you may actually survive, not only to live another day, but to make cave-babies who will carry on your genetic traits of being a quick thinker and fast runner.
This is the basic idea behind what we are: human beings, whether you consciously concern yourself with it or not, are just constantly thinking about how to survive at all times.
The people who act live on, both personally and through their legacy.
There are so many writers who are far better at this writing stuff than me. Seriously, it’s not even close. I know some of them personally.
But the reason you’ve probably read something I’ve written (like this very post) and nothing they have is because I am always doing. Doing is writing, doing is sharing, doing is publishing, doing is making my work as available to as many people as possible, doing is going to conventions, doing is self-promotion, doing is talking about who I am and what I do at fairly frequent intervals (at hopefully appropriate times).
And, for better or for worse, those who act are remembered more than those who don’t.
This isn’t a post about hustle. In fact, I wish I were more chill. This post should make you think about what it is you want to do and how you’d like to influence and touch those around you, for now and forever.
You can either be a part of evolution, a part of history, or you can be lost as it happens around you.
You can be your own damn path, or just a step in someone else’s.
Cat’s out of the bag: we’re having a party! Here’s the description from the event page (and please click below and RSVP!):
“In the last year, Dennis Vogen has done some stuff; namely, he released The Weirdos: Volume I graphic novel, the novella Theia, a collection of essays called Time is a Solid State, and now a new novella, Push, the sequel to his 2014 book, Flip.
Because of a certain worldwide pandemic (you know which one), he hasn’t been able to celebrate any of this with any of you… until now!
We hope to see you at Issues Needed Comics in Apple Valley on July 21, 2021, from 5 pm to 8 pm. Please follow all up-to-date regulations for the store as posted for a safe and fun experience! SEE YOU SO SOON. (I hope to bring snacks.)”
There’s an episode of Black Mirror called San Junipero that is based on the idea of a digital life and afterlife. It’s my favorite and one of the rare installments of Black Mirror that has an undeniably happy ending.
Without spoiling anything, the end of the episode uses “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” in the most perfect way.
The idea of a heaven hasn’t helped me at all in my grieving process. It doesn’t instill any peace in me. “Heaven Is A Place On Earth,” however, has helped me a great deal. It gives me hope and joy and it’s been in heavy rotation on my YouTube playlist over the past seven months.
I had lunch with family today to celebrate my mom’s birthday. We had beautiful weather and it was a really nice afternoon. When I got to my car, I turned it on and placed my phone on its vent-installed holder.
Before I could connect my phone, my hand slipped off the holder and changed the radio station as the first chorus of “Heaven Is A Place On Earth” was about to soar.
I couldn’t believe it.
Now, if you’re a spiritual person, you’re like: “AH! I know what that was! That was her! She was saying hi!”
Somehow, when you’re a logical person, it hits you even harder, because you start to think of the odds: the odds of me leaving at the exact time I did, the odds of my hand slipping and accidently changing the radio station, the odds that particular song would be playing at that specific time — the combination of probabilities is astounding.
To the point where you just sigh, let out a healthy cry that had been hanging out in the attic of your mind for a while, and just openly admit it: I know what that was. That was her. She was saying hi.
That, by nature, she was bold and wasn’t scared of nothin’.
In reality, though, she was human.
Green Lanterns, if you don’t know, are heroes who are part of an intergalactic Corp that protect our multiverse. They use rings that generate energy to blast and construct; those rings work through the user’s control over their own will power.
Hal Jordan is known as one of the greatest Green Lanterns ever to live. He was also considered by many to be “fearless.”
He and my mom had a lot in common. Both were human, and neither were fearless.
They were both able to overcome great fear, and that is what made them something to behold and someone to admire.
I saw the fear in my mom’s eyes every time we drove over ice; every time I got home too late and she was obsessively worried over where I had been; every time she asked me whether I thought her skin looked yellow.
That fear was real, it was deep, and it was achingly human.
That she was able to transcend it, to embrace life and all of the people in it, is an act far braver than being without fear.
It’s not about not being scared. It’s about being scared and living life to its fullest, anyway.
She was a superhero in every sense of the word.
Today, May 31st, is her birthday. She would have been 59, which is young to be alive and tragic to be gone.
I miss her.
But I use that ability, to try and overcome human fallibility, to remember and honor her.
Because I’m not without these human failings. (You know this, I have a lot, it’s not a secret.) But she showed me that’s where our strength comes from. Happy birthday, wherever in the universe you’ve found yourself.
Sharing a warm-up sketch this morning for two reasons:
1. Brushfire is still very much my main project that I’m working on, despite yesterday’s surprise news that I’m releasing a sequel to Flip this summer.
2. Squirrels can be dropped at any height and survive. Physics will give you all the answers as to why, but basically: squirrels are light. Gravity doesn’t pull on them like it does on us. A skydiver’s velocity will be around 120 mph on the way down, and a squirrel’s is only about 23 mph. A squirrel will reach that maximum velocity about 3 seconds into a fall, so it doesn’t matter if it drops from the lowest tree branch (which is unlikely as squirrels are expert climbers) or the highest part of our stratosphere.
Squirrels also (as demonstrated by Bay in this sketch) spread their bodies out to “parachute” their descents. They also find a point on the ground to keep their heads fixed to so they, like cats, generally always land on their feet.
We’ll obviously talk a whole lot more about this, the sequel to Flip, as it gets closer. But I have to say: Push is dark. Maybe the darkest thing I’ve ever written.
And yet, if I do my job right, my goal is to give you as much hope as I possibly can by the end of it.
I guess you’ll find out if I succeed on July 21st, 2021.
The Den 