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Footnotes: This story was actually done for a guy in London that had an ad in the back of Comics International for people that wanted to submit to his fanzine, or was it? I cant remember, it might have been Lez D that I did that strip for, either way, its one of two motorbike related cics I did, and to be honest, I hate this peice. I hate motorbikes. I hate everything that the government shoves people like me before, they're like a disposal route for rubbsh people like me. The thing with bikes is of course they're fun, thats the problem, your bound to be attracted to them. Shit I dont know, whats the point, anyway. This is one of those stupid stories thats supposed to be clever, but oh, deary fuck you got picked up my a ghost, well thats fucking amazing. Shit. Its actually from a Tom Waits album about a guy thats hitch hiking and gets a lift from a ghost. Tom Waits says 'with a half way grin, did I say something wrong'. I'm sorry, but i'm obsessed with the fact that I was stuck on my own in a shit hole without a job when I did this, and not living with a girl. I dont think i'm ever going to get over all that. This comic to me means more because of what it symbolises, and especially now with the internet, they cant do that, all people entrapped in shit holes by evil landlords cannot do what they did to me because the internet is an ascape from that. Doesn't mean i'm free now, just OLD. I'm old and its pissing me off. I hate motorbikes and hitchhiking. As though hitch hiking isn't just something to do to get rid of the poor, get them to stand on motorway junctions looking like tramps when they shou have jobs. But no, to get a job you have to be a retard. Fuck. Its Xmas Eve right now and i'm still alone. I cant face all this. One thing I will add about this comic and thats that the actuall pencil work would have been much better than the finished inks. Pencils are always far more impressive than inks when you cant ink because pencil has a crtain charm to it, and I wouldn't have drawn shit like there is on the above page. What I mean is, the rendering of the structure in ink does not convey the quality of the original pencil work. In fact this is almost too painful to look at. The bad at and the story and subject that I hate, but if I could see the pencils I would say that there was more to it. In short, the only thing this strip says to me is, hey, remember back then, what were you doing? er, yeah, I was trying, trying to get a job, trying to tune my draughting skills, drawing was a discipline and still is that satisfies me. Actually putting a big bit of paper on a board and drawing on it for two days is very satisfying, and when you see the actuall original, in your hand, it still looks good because its the material, the effort that you see, but when you see it here it looks crap, its not a product, the only person thats would ke this strip is someone thats learning to draw themselves likes my new work and is going through the archives. Then they'll see that I have come along way and from that perspective its worth reading, to see how my work has developed and perhaps relate it to their own. You have to remember, this is 5 years before I got the internet, I had nothing to compare to, not really, and also, you have to remember, I was trying to turn out 1 page every 2 days, I was really pushing myself, and so alot of stuff was ruched.

I cant even start to describe how sad looking at this piece makes me feel. Its like all thatsa left of me. All my lonelyness and sorrow recorded between the paper and the ink, invible to all expect me that remembers the set up I had with the drawing board in the kitchen, being harrassed by an evil landlord that used to call me at 10pm and say stuff like 'I know you dont like being called up late' and thats the story of my life, all the pain that is my memory, nothing that I want or need, and silent. I can remember travelling all the way down to the London Comics show and picking up loads of interesting stuff, but of course now theres the internet. Everythings so different. I remember calling a company in Bristol asking for work and all I can remember was the HR person saying , 'NOBODY' like I was a nobody and she could shit all over me adn there was nothing I could do about it. I called an estate agent asking after accomodation and she said 'the unemployed dont move about' like as an unemployed person I had no reights, yet all the time I was a grade A person. I'm not being pompus, there are better people, but I was wasted, I was so bright and capable and young, in the mind set that I wanted a job, but I couldn't / didn't get it so I died, but heres the fun bit, 11 years later they are still doing it to me. Just the other day the landlady called up and said 'I wouldn't just throw you out, i'd give you 3 months notice', of course she hasn't, but she called at 10pm and said that, in reference to a letter I was sent that asked me to confirm that I wanted to stay, which after being here for 6 years, I thought was a bit out of the blue, but what the fuck. The dead, like me, have little option. If I get weaker they'll do even more, because thats how they work, its in their culture. And why me? Why indeed... I dont know, but at a guess, I would say because i'm smudged. A slight flaw in my character resulted in me not having a life. And no ones to blame. Its hard to explain. If I was course, vulger, untalented, I dont think I would have course to complain, but I think theres something about me that I cannot quite define that makes what happended to me a crime. I think the term quality comes to mind, not that I can spell, but fuck, and further, I know people love to see people like me suffer. When I see people like me I sort of shudder, I think, ha, he has everything, I get he gets an easy job, an deasy life, etc etc, so you turn off, its painful to dwell on them and to actually really give a shit about people like me is very difficult, so its a loose loose situation. People would rather help starving blacks in Africa whole will never understand whats happening to them rather than white people in England that are suffering EVERY FUCKING DAY.

LOL. Shit sahit shit. So, anyway, thats that. A crap story and a crap self induldgent rant. I hate these rants they are so pointless, but thats how I feel really. I dont see the point in saying much else. I hate everything this strip stands for other than a symbol of my ffort to change my life and to do something. If I could go back in time I would cry, I would say, you need a job and a girl. Thats that. which of course I was trying to do, but the system was not working for me. I was doing a fucking paper round!!! For £10 a week!!! I wish I could kill all landlords,