you’re looking at my braintrust, with whom you can become more intimately aquainted in an imminent addition to the oubliette, coming soon to a sunday near you:

○ april 10th & 11th in new york: the unseasonably early recurrence of the mocca art festival. i’ll be sharing table E14 with chicago comics superstar neil brideau, on loan from quimby’s for the occasion. in addition to the aforementioned foldy (which, if we’re going to be honest, may or may not be printed and folded in time for this weekend’s festivities) and the rest of my books, i have an illustrated essay appearing in fantastic monsters, a new anthology zine which editor caitlin mcgurk will be debuting at table D27.

[ more good news and bad likenesses, below the fold. ]

you’re looking at the incredible shrinking sunday times magazine, shown here shriveled out of frame. whatever flaws the changes in format may have introduced, the periodical is becoming an ever-more perfect travel accessory. now, wherever our comic-induced travels may lead us, we know mr. shortz will be beside us, reassuring us, no matter the strangeness of our surroundings and the confusion in our jet-lagged hearts, that the world is full of correct answers, and that we really are almost impossibly clever to have discovered them.

[ travels with will, after the jump. ]

you’re looking at a recently reanimated soup night. it was, as is often the case with the undead, somewhat paler in hue than its previous incarnations, but no less warm-blooded or vibrant. i never knew before that corn chowder could be decadent, and the messy cookie cake was better than brains.

s.p.x., an art opening, and further variations on theme of cookie, below the fold.

you’re looking at joe’s computer. everybody has one: it’s the single common task or everyday object you simply can’t fathom, despite your generally impressive intellect and your aptitude for any number of similar and demonstrably more complex pursuits. your joe’s computer may be paying the bills, or html, or kids today. ours is shoelaces.

computers-a-plenty, below the fold.

you’re looking at the lost art of sleeping in. it’s not something we’ve ever been any good at, but we’re happy when those around us are doing it.

more lost artistry below the fold.