○ safe and sunday ○
you’re looking at the boy blue armory. it is, by far, the most advanced security system we’ve ever developed, and we’re hoping to land a fat defense contract. some assembly required.
• shawn at size matters on prologue and on the beach
• rob at high low on tick, prologue, and on the beach
• whitey at optical sloth on on the beach (and an older tick review)
• and an honorable mention for the oubliettes in richard krauss‘s midnight ramblings.
○ little mocca‘s all growed up, and there were growing pains to be sure, as well as a perceivable decline in the impulsive homespun energy that has characterized its youth. but in its place was something else, a compelling sense that the institution of alternative comics is a stabler, more solid one than we’d previously thought it; that, despite tough times all around and diamond douchebaggery, our little corner of the world is secure.
what we’re trying to say is: what the armory lacked in charm and climate control, it more than made up for in metaphorical resonance.
○ so this week in the boy blue book club, we’re sifting through the vast array of treasures we’ve recently acquired. recommended reading to follow, just as soon we’ve read it.
○ also, we have two swedish cartoonists on our couch. the hostel lost their reservation, and we’re doing as well by them as we can, but if you know of an open room or bed somewhere, do tell us about it (boyblue [at] boyblueproductions [dot] com).
○ boy blue’s field director for folding initiatives, secretary of translation, and top chef girlcate has started sharing the secrets of her saccharinity on her new baking ‘blog. we could go on for days about girlcate’s cakes and cookies, but we figure the solid ten pounds we’ve added since she came on staff is an adequately convincing recommendation.
○ and okay, look, we’re willing to concede that a younger, funner, better version of us would probably have been excited about this sort of thing, but why the shit is an ice cream truck rolling through northern greenpoint, blaring that infernal greeting-card jingle, at half past midnight on a sunday? this is the kind of crap that no one will ever have to deal with again once our new modular armories hit the market. they are both sound-proof and inconsiderate-amplified-jerk-off-proof, so mr. softee doesn’t stand a chance.
the downside, of course, will be the lack of ice cream. there are sacrifices, it would seem, involved in getting what you’ve been building toward.