Alternative Comics a frankenstein story

HEY APATHY! Surreal Comics

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Surreal Interiors #3

HEY APATHY! Surreal Comics

A potted tree and the robot gardener.

Alternative Comics Hell on Earth

HEY APATHY! SURREAL COMICS

Surreal Alternative Comics

HEY APATHY! Surreal Comics

A Kid and his War Toy. This 8.5 x 11inch sketchbook comic features a little boy with small strange devices attached to his temples powering a giant mechanized war machine complete with multiple fire arms and monstrous tentacle legs. Basically I just felt like a drawing a robot and my mind started sifting through all my childhood toys, and eventually to the more modern ones and those strange Japanese kids shows where the children fight robots like sports. Any ways I  added three more panels and made up a narrative for this image turning the doodle into a comic or something like that. It is an odd artist’s process but interestingly enough, though all my pictures have stories quite often I’d no idea of the narration until the work is all done. more HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Mad Science

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

Another panel from the surreal comics slowly manifesting itself within the pages of my apparently innocent sketchbook. This one's about a twisted doctor, his two assistants and some terribly mutated experiments.

ALTERNATIVE COMICS in SPACE!

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

ALTERNATIVE COMICS from outer space

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Return of the Hero...

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

After an annihilating battle with corporate masters and an endless barrage of billboard advertisements, the hero was left a mere skeletally deformed weak malformation. However having been reduced to a shamble zombie deprived of his identity and possessions the little decimated hero did not lose himself completely. Lying in an intoxicated stupor in a damp and dark alley the man started to dream. In his dreams he remembered his hopes and triumphs. Not the triumphs that he was celebrated for but an unexplainable sort of light. The trees grew in those dreams and so did the minds of the children and all things seemed free and energized as in the days of his former glory. Awaken by a siren the hero found his haziness cleared and stood up from the ground with an entirely new hope. Beside him lay some disregarded riot gear, an old police helmet and armour abandoned by a squad a few days back. The acidity of the rain and the alley itself, tinted the equipment and altered the colouring. As his flesh had yet to regenerate after the long court room conflicts he decided to protect himself with these strangely unique objects. Now in his weird new protective gear he could continue his fight without fearing publicity. He was burnt, scarred and hideously ugly but never so ready to enter the war for humanity…

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ALTERNATIVE COMICS The Big Show

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

The Big Show came to town last week and it was truly an incredible sight! Of all the television shows, reality based or otherwise, the Big Show has always been my favourite and by far the longest running. I remember when I was a child watching the program broadcast from the world all over and I remember being terrified ( as children are far more susceptible to such fears) accordingly with the varied presence. The program, with which you are certainly aware, is more often than not quite terrifying yet despite it’s harsh pragmatism fairs well as, up until now, it has always taken place in foreign lands. The plot is very simple and deliberately repetitive, but that what makes it so palatable for we know the good guys always win. Each episode depicts some sort of rebel rousing resultant in street violence at which time the heroes always rush and retain order. The protagonists, of course, are the Big Show Boys in Black, an magnificent troupe of patriotic officers undefeated in their mission to maintain justice. My earliest recollections involved their successful dethroning of an evil government bent on forcing the people of that land ( I don’t remember which one) into living in poverty, starvation, and desolation while the kingdom was drowned in golden riches. Needless to say that the Show overthrew the terrible King and proudly opened a Fast Food Franchise in celebration of the victory. No more would those starving outlanders have to eat unhealthily useless rations, the Show had brought burgers to that strange and far off land!

Since that time of confused terror remedied by the almighty burger, the show has roared on battling in the name of humanity where ever it was called for. In fact I suspect that the Show has been on longer than I even remember for my great grandfather’s notebook suggests it used on the radio before T.V. Of course it could never have been so fantastic nor believable without the moving pictures, I mean it’s one thing to hear a fire or bullet but another to marvel in visual effects. On top of all that the villains could never have been so villainous without the assistance of a close cropped image to reveal the hideousness of their eyes. Oh how amazing it is to watch freedom triumph! How amazing it is to watch the world as it is freed!

Given my obvious and unabashed fascination with the episode you can only imagine how excited I was when only a few years ago the show started producing special episodes in places closer to home. Yes I saw some reruns from way back which were filmed in familiar locations, but the clothes and cars were all funny looking and the film used to be grainy. These episodes, though entertaining, lacked the shocking immediacy of today’s programming appearing even more distant that the real time excursions from exotic lands. Thus the syndications always seemed as though they were staged and lacked excitement as the outcome was never in question. Not that it is ever in question, but that slight possibility of unwanted disaster keeps us all tuning in for more. Needless to say when the Show started touring cities on this continent, I not only tuned in more frequently but found that the broadcasts had quadrupled.

Then, in the most incredibly excited moment of all of my days, the announcements were made during a promo that the Big Show was coming to town! How I jumped for joy at this most glorious opportunity, at last I could stand in the studio audience, maybe even participate in my wildest fantastical dream! Immediately I went to the barber’s to have my head cleared and a shave. I purchased the latest and most elegant suit and hat and even had my teeth cleaned. In the weeks leading up to the grand event I exercised and ate especially well for I wouldn’t like to caught on film looking anything shy of my best. ( Don’t tell anyone but I even went so far as to spend a bit of the grocery credits on a few minor Botox injections) Yes I was more than ready for my chance to be a star.

The production started a few days prior to the shoot and I was fortunate to watch all the proceedings. First they installed the camera’s and soon afterwards came the flying machines. Overhead I could see airplanes and many, many helicopters and my enthusiasm pumped ripened adrenaline in and out through my veins Celebrity announcements were made and Show Boys arrived, followed by hordes of fans. People from all over the country showed up to celebrate the Big Show. I first spotted the cast on bicycles, then in cars and even (my heart is melting) posing undercover so as to avoid paparazzi entanglements. The city was buzzing and entirely changed as the stage was setting I had little doubt that this was going to be an excellent episode.

At the same time as the perimeter players were occupying the city, the game was put into place and the rules all sorted out. The best part of the Show is always the game. Though I previously mentioned that the plot is never dissimilar, the game always changes. Some times the Show Boys invade villainous territory, other times they defend locations of there own. As a reality program the extra’s are always made out of a live audience among which the villains often inconspicuously and blatantly reside. This time it was sort of a defending race in which the participants were challenged to conquer a strategic maze with the ultimate goal of viewing or breeching a protected sector. It is also of note that the general public is encouraged to participate in any of the challenges which makes the visitation of the program all the more stimulating. The gated territory was constructed at the same time as the perimeter processions. At first, as if to give the public and villains a chance, the area was openly accessible but was abruptly sealed off and guarded shortly prior to the broadcast. “How exhilarating!” I thought to my self as the Show Boys surrounded me when I unknowingly trotted to close to set.

When I say “unknowingly” it is not that I do not know my city well, only that I obviously misconstrued the boundaries of the arena for I stayed well away from the fence. I didn’t want to cheat or to be disqualified early so decidedly retained all my normal habits and routines. My neighbourhood is quiet and a distance from the stage, yet I was stopped, intimidated and searched four times before the performance commenced. It was like a dream come true and I found myself gushing under the pressure of the surrounding celebrity. Imagine me buying groceries and being interrogated by the Show Boys! Alas I am boasting but the experience was feverishly enlightened and you would all feel the same way had you been caught in the spotlight with such stars.

At any rate the show started in schedule and the streets filled with thousands of participants, fans and villains, marching through the street ready to obtain the prizes presented full force. Myself, I cared little about reaching the aforementioned goal, as I was proud enough to witness the play unfold first hand. I walked and marched through the streets, the alleys and the parks but to little or no avail. The show was not so exciting and with the exception of a few congested corners I was greatly disappointed. People were shopping and eating and I watched some parades roll by. There was a lot of music and costumes but little of the show’s regular zeal. At first I avoided the safety zone, for any regular viewer knows that nothing happens there until later in the program, but the action was nil. In fact I was so disappointed that I returned home on this most anticipated day.

Upon arriving in my apartment I turned on the tele and much to my surprise the show started to pay off! The villains had attacked and the streets had turned to chaos! There were cars burning and much vandalism and the Show Boys were taking action. It was invigoratingly fulfilling to see all the action normally associated with the Show. Recognizing the locations I rushed out to the street and made my way to were the excitement had been! I admit witnessing the production was slightly disappointing as the same event portrayed with majesty on the screen were calm and nearly disinteresting in real life. The terror seemed less real, even somewhat staged and most certainly on a smaller scale than the television suggested. Nevertheless I was very pleased to stand face to face with a line of armed and shielded superstars as I watched a precariously placed Show vehicle burning filling the sky with a beautiful cloud of smoke. Satisfied and delighted I strolled the streets some more discovering some minor damage but little more.

Had only I stayed for shortly there after the show reached it’s pinnacle and the Boy’s took control. Shots were fired and people were arrested and trampled. More cars set a flame and the everything turned fantastic. The Show Boy’s started to take prisoner’s. 900 by the end, and me wandering the streets endlessly surrounded by tourists, shoppers and peaceful supporting fans. I made my way up to the safety zone but was denied access. Damn! The second act must have already started. The safety zone is always trouble but you’d have to make it in good time. So I returned home once again to track the progress.

The television showed me all the wondrous this that I missed including the seizure of the safety zone and the Boy’s triumph over denizens at the very location I’d only just been! No one had found the fence and the villains put on a good fright, but the Show Boy’s were muscling in a I knew the game was finished. The entire weekend was amazing and I don’t regret my ill-timed march for the video captured footage was enough for me. I saw all my favourite scenarios from episodes past played out my city. I even saw a number of my friends who got to be captured live on the show. One of them was even jumped and beaten but I promised my self not to be too jealous. Watching the show like this brought about a new devotion, so much so that I cannot express how proud I am to live hear.

The show packed up after two days of wonderful footage leaving the city as swiftly as it came. I’ve been watching the clips over and over and I never get bored. This must be how New Yorker’s feel when they read comics or watch movies. The backdrop makes me fell included in the magic. The foreign episodes seem to pale as entertainment in comparison though I cannot escape a sense of new brotherhood with those places previously featured. And so the greatest event of my life, the day the Big Show came to town, had ended. The fence came down and the audience went home. Even the T.V. and the news report pretended like it never happened. For a short time I was overcome by depression likely quite normal to one who has been overly stimulated but my empty feelings didn’t last long. No, I am observant and I fanatic follower of the Show, that I soon realized there was no need for my distain. First I saw that the Show helicopter’s had stayed on in abundance despite the closed production, then I noticed an unusually large group of Show Cars boxing in a football celebration and then, be still my beating heart which skipped a beat, I saw a row of 15 Show Boys riding bicycles around the intersection where I live. Like I said I am virtually a student of this great program, it’s plots and scripts, and I am most happily certain that they plan to film here again soon.

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Alternative Comics G20 is almost out of Toronto

After a long week of random interrogations and a heavy handed police presence the city of Toronto finally hit the protest in the streets this weekend. Though I’d seen nothing intimidating whatsoever from any protestor the imbeciles in black eventually showed up with vagrant and violent force. By Saturday night three cop cars had been ignited and some windows were smashed by small groups of moronic macho imbeciles under the guise of political cause. The television had a field day and I felt like I was living in a war zone, until I turned it off and went to see things for myself. The streets were certainly quiet but the bars were open and people were about. There was shopping on Queen West only a block from the flaming auto. The city was not in nearly as much of an uproar as the images made it seem and I could quickly gather that they were isolated and not reflective of the whole.

 The majority of the crowds were simple, musical and peaceful but the minority of vagrants simply put everyone at high risk. The cops stepped up security rounding up over 600 people who were mildly detained in makeshift prisons for a brief time. ( I bet they are all honoured by the capture and boast merrily about how much better they are than those who didn’t get caught). I saw cops arresting regular partiers as well as peaceful protestors which only helped make the matter more extraordinary in reports. However there was little excitement in the actual streets were most people stood apathetically in jest holding camera’s/ Lokk at the press footage twice and you’ll notice that the aggressive clips total in a number less than 10. Primarily the same two or three incidents were recycled over and over giving the effect of mass hysteria when the crazies were but a few. The other note worthy analysis is that in each scene of violence the crowds are not rowdy only spectators and the cops are nowhere to be seen. For all the billions of dollars spent to irritate Torontonians all week nothing could stop the all-mighty black-bloc-heads. In fact only a single report of the police preliminary actions fruited the seizure of questionable weaponry.

 I myself was searched four times but they never found a thing. On top of that the police, as frightening as the tele makes them look, seemed scared, confused, and disorganized bubbling around bothering innocent civilians. Even in their large grouped black line ups of sheild, clubs and helmits, I could see that they were people and some of them appeared baffled. Others seemed over zealous but either way they have a lot of brainwashing to do before these guys can hold their ground with the telepathic observer. Nevertheless the small, insignificant and utterly useless acts of violence have not only turned the politicians into heroes but they have initiated an argument for the induction of a military state. If you are trying to fight the NOW, wearing Halloween costumes and acting like the Prime Minister’s puppet is probably not going to help. In the short time after the cop car burned the arrests tripled and I saw with my own eyes that many of them had nothing to do with aggression or even protests but the detainment of innocent civilians was now justifiable in light of the idiots dressed in black.

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ALTERNATIVE COMICS G20 mayhem

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

 

HEY APATHY! When I last wrote in (yesterday) the word on the streets and on the television was chaos. I decided not to take everyone else’s word for it a strolled through the downtown core to see what was up. I saw the burning car and several lines of policemen but the crowds were really peaceful and even somewhat apathetic. There was a lot of joking and touristy cameras however the tension was not to comparable to the media description. The bars were all open and their were people in the community pool and the scariest thing around was the cops. I also found it difficult to locate the dozens of stores damaged and though many had been prepared with boarded windows I saw not the slightest sign of vandalism. Any way I wish those idiots hadn't given the news the proof they needed but in actuality the aggression seemed very isolated and not reflective of our city's state.

 

However the fuel provided by the instigators have given police license to arrest any one they want. The count is up to about 550 today consisting of both peaceful protestors, innocent bystanders and villains alike. More and more dutiful citizens are coming to words and actions against the heightened aggression of the cops. But what else could possibly be done for aren't a few hundred innocent arrests a small price to pay for un-shattered windows? The violence has justified a miniscule marshal law. Basically everywhere I've been since yesterday's events tells me that this whole ordeal is going accordingly to someone’s else’s plans.



 The week has been proving progressively totalitarian. It has been near impossible to move freely through out the streets. I have been surrounded, interrogated, searched on numerous occasions. The entire experience has seemed absurdly bizarre. Alas the week was silent but the things are finally revving up. The police cars are on fire, store fronts are being smashed and words like tear gas are happening and all over the television. Amazingly these broadcasts of terror and violence ( I’ve only seen three clips in endless repetition) are frequently interrupted by very civil and proper addresses from the summit. The prime minister is beaming as though the protests have only sweetened his prestige. The streets are full of hysteric proles while the kings have their luncheon and talk of the success of war!




The entire situation is quite perplexing. On the one hand our general rights have been revoked, the fate of the world is being decided behind an enormous fence and guard, and the obvious majority of people in our city today are in protest, but what is all of this going to solve? Judging from the entirely uninterrupted meeting within the convention center it would appear that the hopes of many have no effect what so ever on the power of few. I am proud that people have stood up but in doing so a few have stood out by instigating fires and attacking the police.






I am not a violent person in either thought or deed and can see little advantage to the hooliganism which is at this very moment ransacking small parts of the city. The random attacks have caused little more than small nuisances and the only people who have been hurt appear to be those involved in the protest. I witnessed a tele-capture of Queens Park, a beautiful landscaped university grounds a few blocks from my home, in which a horde of police officers were unloading all of their personal irreverence’s on the face of a young radical. However is there any other way to deal with rallies involving purely violent and aggressive members? Had our streets not been swept so intensely throughout the previous week would the violence not be ten fold? Well the news has only reported one successful seizure verses three annihilated police cars.


 

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ALTERNATIVE COMICS WARNING

BB TXTN U ++GOOD

ALTERNATIVE COMICS Street Art Chronology 2006 part 1

HEY APATHY! Alterantive Comics at P.S. Kemsington 

Street Art Stories 2006

continued from ALTERNATIVE COMICS Street Art Chronology 2005-06 part 4 As the summer picked up so did the heat., in every sense of the word. The temperature rose as did the crowds and once more my performances were proving successful. I had expanded, uncontested to a full 10x14 foot display featuring a complete line of prints, large murals, and t-shirts when simultaneous success brought forth enemies both new and old. While I successfully exhibited the works at the T.O.A.E. and was invited to take part in a group show in one of Toronto’s best galleries, at the same time the celebrations caused me more by-law hardships while working on the street.

 

By the summer of 2006 I had developed numerous and practiced techniques for my live painting performances. I had stop detailing the images with bamboo and focussed entirely one brushes using the wooden handle end instead of the pen. 4 x 6 foot Monsters and spiralling metropolis spewed across the paper in a matters of minutes. The images involved several characters from the 2005 ink drawings including the Superhero, the Samurai, the Machinehead and the Evil eye. I worked out on Queen Street on a daily basis while performing on the weekends and at several P.S. Kensington Car Free street festivals . Numerous midnight missions were also made landing graffiti style cartoon decapitations all over the city.

 

Live Painting at the T.O.A.E.

The street drawings were starting to gain recognition and were successfully shown at the Toronto Outdoor Art Exhibition. The weather remained cordial throughout the entire weekend and the open air festival proved unbelievable busy. On the first day I painted a large set of character faces which I proceeded to cut and frame for the Saturday sales. This was a process I had repeated almost daily while exhibiting the work on Queen West. At first I would make ten or twenty of these scribbled monsters and they would last for a week but by 2006 I was making at least that many each day. Eventually it got to the point were I would set out a 4 x 6 foot scroll and draw 50-60 characters in a rough grid as a performance and hope the supplies lasted. Fortunately or otherwise the character performance at the T.O.A.E. was the last batch of small hand drawn artworks I ever made. I replaced my 8.5 x 11 “ selections with digital prints after the exhibition.

4 x 6 ft. Character Performance and Selection of Prints

 

I talked to adults and children and people from all over the world. I even met people who spoke only other languages as the show is a huge attraction for tourists and collectors alike.One of the most impressive encounters I had at the outdoor exhibition was my introduction to the curator of the Edward day gallery, Kelly McCrey. The Edward Day gallery is one of the most highly respected of fall the Torontonian establishments. Kelley invited me to take part in a group exhibition and I was proud to accept his incredible offer. The HEY APATHY! Street drawings were reaching new heights both technically, professionally and most importantly in terms of interactions.

 

Having travelled many drawings since my introverted studio days I really started taking to engaging the crowds. Every drawing had a story and I was talking to more people and drawing bigger crowds. Of course, like before, the attention attracted grievances . A neighbouring and fully licensed jewellery vendor took offence to my success and started perpetual reports of my “inappropriate” activities to my old friends the by-law enforcers. At first the by-law officers let me pass with my buskers license but the jeweller persisted. He even made false reports of illicit behaviour resulting in visitations and fruitless searches by the actual police. Eventual the by-law officers, after numerous complaints from the vendor, told me that my license was not fully legit. They got me on a technicality which states that the busker cannot actually put articles on the city walk ways. After several repeat encounters, in which I was always sent off of the streets, one of the by-law officers told me that he found out more about the licenses and that there was one I could get. I followed his instructions immediately and found myself fully licensed and back on the street.

 I lost almost two weeks of the summer battling with the vendor’s complaints and despite my full license I moved a safe distance away from that jeweller. It occurred to me that all the attention, my music and madness may have been quite problematic to his business so I tried not to hold any lingering hatred for the man. However I soon realized that the bout was indeed personal as the angered jeweller was quickly horded by drunken street people and musicians who occupied my vacated spot near the vendor for the better part of the following two years. Amazingly no matter how loud, how drunk, or how large their group expanded, I never saw the jeweller file another complaint?

Street Art Queen West 2006.

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ALTERNATIVE COMICS the thing under the stairs...

Alternative Comics Monster

Another schizophrenic Toronto afternoon as our early summer weather bounces rebounds after a couple of cold spring days. I certainly took advantage spending a couple hours in the park in between labour intensive sessions hovering over the animation stand. Got a lot done in terms of drawings although little in terms of seconds for the all new HEY APATHY! cartoon funded by the Ontario Council for the Arts. However despite my luxurious division between the outdoors and studio time the weirdest distraction had little to do with any of my attempts to be simultaneously productive and relaxed.

The problem arose later on in the evening as I attempted to compose a short essay for my site. I was writing up a history of the influences and occurrences regarding my decisions to work as a street artist when I heard a strange beeping and clicking coming from under the floor. I tried to ignore it and continue my typing but the consistent sound kept annoying so I was forced to investigate. I followed the noise out my door through the hall eventually identifying it as coming from the stairs. I slowly crawled down the steps with my ears open and discovered a small crack were the sound seemed to originate.

I'd never really considered the stairs as being hollow or even briefly thought that there was any space underneath. In fact if I think about it I was almost most certain that the steps were quite solid until this very minute clicking revealed otherwise. The crack was very small but easily identifiable so I put a knife into the hole and pried it open a bit.

There was a strong stench and a gurgle which over took the mechanical sounds and in a flash the ground gave way underneath my feet. I fell through the stairs and landed in a basement, only it wasn't the laundry room I thought it would be. The room was all damp and dripping and red and a large grotesque leech with the face of a demon bull was slithering to a fro all around the debris. It was hissing and gurgling and making the computer click sounds and I started to sweat in fear for my life. I saw bones sprawled out and bugs that had been chewed as the sluggish atrocity started towards me with it's face all a glow. I was about to shout out and prepared to defend myself, though compared to the size and horror of the beast I was absolutely no match. It's blue glowing face flickered as it gobbled the mucus falling from on of it's faces to another. The beeping and clicking got louder and louder and the creature advanced aggressively and close to my face.

Amazingly as it got within a consumable distance I realized that I was absolutely no concern. The monster slurped passed me starring at the bright screen in it's claw. I was in no danger for the creature was distracted by a small technological game playing device. It was obviously engaged in a simplistic arcade which was responsible for the beeping, as for the clicking I think it was texting a friend....

ALTERNATIVE COMICS lost in imagination (the experiment) oh yeah Samurai and Robots too

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics

Another sun has past and a few inches gained on my begrudging attempt to develop a new animation (funded by the Ontario arts council). The process itself is moving quite smoothly it is just that sometimes it feels as though it is taking to long (12 freaking drawings per second). So this afternoon I submitted and ran from the studio so as to go and doodle in the hot humid air. Only a comics artist or psychopath would take a break a break from drawing to draw, but I must still refute accusations of either title. In fact I am a really just a sort of surreal detective conducting an unusual experiment regarding the mechanics of life.

My investigative process involves a large amount of public immersion as I use street art and murals to conduct my anthropological studies. The basic idea is to put out as many strange images as possible to incite discussion and question the purpose of routines. Who are all these people and what is the city? The experimental research has taken me to many places. I've eaten at some of the most expensive dinner tables in the entire world and eaten lunch with drug addled homeless people down on the street. The entire production, now going on ten years, has revealed many things about architecture and others but the results as of late have become less and less clear.

The problem with the project occurs in the most peculiar of moments as I discover my public interventions tendencies to manipulate the findings. For example I first discovered hope and intelligent life while painting giant murals in the streets of Toronto. The contradiction occurs after I remove all the artwork as I have realized it was in fact the beacon which was drawing positive actions out from the crowd. Without the giant street display the city turns colder and the possibilities of discovering stimulating ideas grows thinner and thinner with each city block. Is the city a true wonder or was it my interactions which helped to spotlight the miniscule value which quickly ceases to exist out side of the art. Just try and stop a stranger and enter in to discourse about anything of interest and you know what I mean. With a large scale ink mural on the sidewalk the interactions are endless, but without the incentive the metropolis seems numb. There is shopping and drinking and fighting for space as well as headphones and cellular zombies amok.

The question of whether or not my participation in the carnival was effecting my studies has recently become increasingly skewed. On my break in the park I started talking to this Samurai. He told me an interesting story about an artist he once knew. While he shared his weird little narration, I started doodling a scene of my own. I imagined the Ronin was about to do battle with an oddly constructed Robot sneaking up from behind. The Samurai asked what it was that I was drawing, rolled his eyes. sighed and moved into preparation for battle. Sure enough the ground shook under the feet of that Robot as it ran up behind us targeting my new friend.

So you can see where I am having difficulty recording my research. I am not really sure whether or not I am the documenter or the creator of these things. Like a physicist who initiates or destroys a project merely by observation, it is extremely difficult to understand the results because they cannot be judged without looking. It's sort of like that old saying if a tree falls in the forest, does the condo developer make a sound? At any rate the Samurai jumped up and off of a tree at an inhuman pace and made quick work of the Robot before he disappeared. If you want to know what happens next you'll have to read about it in my report. The findings have been published in HEY APATHY! BOOK TWO.

Blurring the lines between reality and dementia! Scene from the HEY APATHY! comics series

 

ALTERNATIVE COMICS The MISSING ARTIST

HEY APATHY! Alternative COMICS

First of all let me introduces myself. My name is Blackbeard Daunkleweed and I am an employer and aquiantance of the artist who usually posts in this journal. I worked extensively with Mike Parsons last year on a project involving numerous unusual portraits and had left a book in his possession which I need to get back. The lad was supposed to meet me this afternoon but failed to show up to make the exchange, Naturally I'd assumed the worst of the freelance illustrator and decided to visit his studio for my goods,

I broke into this place only a few minutes ago and discovered the artist was nowhere in sight. There are no signs of a disturbance though the dishes are from yesterday, and his computer was left with yesterdays post on the screen. After reading his story I have figured the word. I taught that boy much etiquette on our travels together but never the less the idiot has gone astray. In yesterdays article, cut short mid-sentence, Mike made mention of some folk it ain't right to talk about and has surely paid the price.

Luckily for Mike I know all about this and though I'm not so stupid as to write out the details. Let's just say that by breaking the silentium, Mike is likely been imprisoned and I'm sure I know where. Since the book I require is not on the premises I guess I'll rescue the bastard and put things back in place. No worries, I'll have you're foolish alternative comics bloke back by tomorrow's post.  

ALTERNATIVE COMICS routine atrocities...

HEY APATHY! Alternative Comics.! If any of you have been following these journals you may already be familiar with the creepy research and developments of the sub-human, yet ultimately superior, breed of creatures known only as invisible. The strange monster people are of the most powerful intellect. Their abilities to process data and patterns have far exceeded even the most analytic of mathematicians. The most terrifying part of the whole business is that their studies involve human behaviour and the mapping, recording and planning of our routines. The process is beyond scientific as "the invisible" processes our experiences like a chemist processes  drugs. At any rate the members of this society have figured out life's patterns to such an extent as to understand our every move.

 Sometimes they even enter our homes unobserved. In fact they move so intuitively in-between our routines that they are capable of following you through you kitchen or bath with out ever being seen. Truth is they look just like ordinary people, yet through their extraordinary research they have moved beyond normal senses. It is no trick or illusion or fictional power, it is simply a sophisticated formula devised of repetitious movements and peripheral avoidance. Fortunately I have not figured out their intentioned but would prefer not to speculate. I know one of them is here now but no matter how quickly I turn they can predict ( although I believe the term inaccurately describes their prowess of deduction) a cannot catch a glimpse. The only thing that I am certain of is that they don't like to be discussed and that most anyone who has mentioned them soon thereafter disappears. Any ways on to another subje

ALTERNATIVE COMICS NO POST TODAY read why ...

HEY APATHY! NO ALTERNATIVE COMICS TODAY

I must apologize in advance for the following dog-ate-my-homework type excuse but there will be no blog post on this the 18th of April 2010. Although I awoke refreshed and complimented by a beautifully shining morning, my regular artist's rituals were interrupted by the most peculiar event. When I stood up, thirsty yet enthused, I noticed a glimmering pool of a opaque liquid had spilt across my bedroom floor. At first I assumed that a bottle of white book binding glue had toppled in the night. Slightly frustrated, as I forgot to hydrate my self, I set forth to examine the damage and potentially clean up my mess.


As printmakers and painters, and carpenters alike all well know, an upset bottle of glue across wooden panel floor can be disastrous. If the glue has settled, the likely hood of removal is certainly nil. I knelt down to touch the puddle and was instantaneously taken aback by the depth at which my fingers had submerged. While the substance sat only millimetres from the floor, I easily fit half of my hand into the now inexplicable spillage.

In my less than alert state, only just out of bed, I was barely able to process the occurrence. Inhaling a combination of shock, surprise and alarm within a singular breath, I felt a sinking depression of the senses as of one who is malnourished upon receiving the most traumatic of news. Instinctively I pulled back my moist covered hand when the white sopping ooze lifted whole in it's shape and flew up with my arm engulfing the room. All at once I was surrounded by an odourless and tasteless air constituently heavy not entirely unlike a gelatine or white glue. For a second the atmosphere was suffocating but as the substance filled my lungs, and then all of my airways, I was overtaken by a sanctifying calm.

I floated, or sank, through the thick globular nothing for a duration which felt as rapidly exasperating as the passing seconds of a movie montage spanning millennia. I heard the sounds of many keyboards tapping when a minute blackened orifice opened in the opaque space out in front of me. First a hand reached from within, then another and another exited the shapeless salutation. The figures peeled back the thick liquid white and the sounds became louder.

Before me were thousands of people all morphed one seething tar soaked entity, each individual barely coherent except for the nature of their tasks. In one clustered area of the mingled anomaly there were people eating, and people preparing the meals and people preparing the animals for the meals. A crowd of onlookers gathered and gawked, even cheered at the slaughter, while other slaved like an army and others still gorged. In another region of the glob people were building things and simultaneously destroying them. There were liars and thieves, and saviours and scholars all curiously defined by their meaningless chores. People-ish forms laughed and danced and ran and typed . Oh how they typed.

Many words in many languages could be seen sprouting out in mingled fonts only to be enveloped by the blank tar periphery. Lost almost as soon as initiated, thousands upon thousands of stories, communications, essays, and articles, appeared and disappeared along the gelatinous surface of the weird white air. There were many, many, many blogs. All of the texts were jumbling together simultaneously complimenting and refuting one another. Most of the information blended and blurred in the atmospheric pudding. A handful of these writings stood out from the storm. Their authors received much celebration and adoration from all districts of the seeping strange form. Their words were boldly animated and appeared larger and clearer than the rest. But alas of these few, even fewer had anything to say.

I heard the sounds of ten thousand radios mixing repetitions with ads. The terrible static beat and faceless harmonies turned my ears in unto themselves. A snippet of every horrific tune ever written set a torturous train of thought to work on my psyche. The experience could only be likened the time when one has an unwanted melody playing over in ones head but cannot remember all the words, and thereby is trapped perpetually cycling only a most irritating half-chorus. It was like that, only it was every song that had ever pestered me all mixed into one. For a brief moment the amalgamation of noise cohesively recited a line from Tina Turner's Private dancer.

At this I was broken. For the first time since observing the inside's of the goo, I was stricken to panic. I tried to scream, tried to swim. tried to claw my way up but the sounds just got louder and the amorphous pile of humanoid figures drew nearer. I could feel the black fleshy bubbles and the gripping of hands on my ankles when, with a sudden jerk, I fell out of the space and into the thick swamp public nebula. Politicians were screaming, and children were screaming! Advertising executives were laughing, purely white people chinked filled glasses with indulgence, and young soldiers trained for battle. Long monotonous rows of hands trapped in singular motions produced boxes upon boxes from nowhere that other hands grasped for and instantly unpackaged. The opened receptacles were then discarded and subsequently collected by another line of figures partaking in a similar, yet entirely unique, repetition. Mediocre celebrities built a fortress in the desert separate from the glob and teenagers ate celebrity magazines which in turn caused them to vomit up their used souls. I saw artists abrasively rubbing their faces against such magazines, yelling "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!" and I watched a film crew violate the verse of magnificent authors who'd died without fame. The overall affect of the grotesque embodiment left little clue as to distinguish the cries of horror from those of ecstasy.

Then I saw the technologies. My only excuse for not having already noticed must have been the suddenness of the entire experience for each and every one of these people-forms was equipped with a device. Varying in shapes and sizes from miniscule to monstrous the technological malformations seamlessly protruded from all surfaces of the blob. I looked up from the center of this thing I can never truly describe, to see all of the mechanizations were moving, not out of place but in a passing as a serpents scales do when breaching the surface of a dark heavy bog. The direction of the slither pointed towards a glowing bright light as of that of the heavens. However something deep and ominously inside of myself warned against that the light for it was not my salvation but of something indeed quite the opposite.

I fitted in panic thrice that of my first bout but the resistance seemed only to attract attention from the blindingly hideous glow. I struggled against the agitated black tar of humanoid forms and robotic tentacles but cold gain no ground. I knew not even what ground I'd hoped to gain? This was my last thought before the enormous screen of flickering fluorescence swallowed me whole.


Once again I was alone and surrounded by white. Only this time I dare not open my eyes for the brightness penetrated so fully my eyelids that I could already see as clearly as day. Everything went silent until I heard a deep bass voice speak up from within the farthest recess of that space and my conscious. " WHY? ". The articulation was unmistakable and mockingly perverse. In my mind I had answered, but the thought was so fleeting that I cannot recall it. The result of this forgotten response set the omnipotent presence into infuriated laughter. The laughter ensued and expanded shaking me all around. As the trembling exemplified the bellowing turned to coughing, then choking and finally resolved itself as a combination of choking and gasping. I can only guess that wherever I was, was probably the stomach of something and that the combination of my consumption and the laughter had resulted in that something's indigestion. I felt sporadic convulsions and was propelled upwards by an invisible ,yet tangible, sea of pebbled acidity. This burning reverse-fall lasted for about 5 seconds before I found my self standing back in my bedroom. For a brief moment my clothes felt damp but I soon realized otherwise. I looked to the floor but could find no evidence of the adventure.

My nerves have now settled, and after drinking a considerable amount of water I have decided to pass the experience off as pure fiction. I am, however, tainted by retentive images of the typography which had been written all over that unusual spilt glue tapestry beneath my bedroom floor. Only now, in my recollections, the words all say "WHY?" and I’ve come to realize that at present there are far more of these words than the world will ever need. Besides it is late and I am exhausted and have many tasks for tomorrow’s morn, so there will be no alternative comics post from HEY APATHY! today.
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