Return To Front Page
Footnotes: Im glad to finish this. Going through a stressful time and drawing is the only think that calms me really. I'm filled with the sense that my life is being wasted but worse than that I can see it happening dayby day in slow motion and I can see the people that are responsible for it. Its all I need as fuel for my next piece, DEATH CAMP ENGLAND. Now that i've finished this i'm ready. I dont like this story overall, its very rushed in a sense that I think causes it to loose its impact. It should be a slow story that gradually builds up to the finish. The point in this finish is that she is real. Its a bit tacky and corny I know, but I thought i'd do it, not for impact but simply to reiterate that she is real in his mind and as such is real in reality. She is I'm consumed with the idea that good people, me in particular, are condemed by society into a life of solitude. I've been becoming more and more aware of what is actually happening to me, something that all these comics are exploring to, but being alone has such an impact, not being able to talk to anyone for starters. I'm not talking about generally, I talking business with people all the time, but what I mean is not having a partner to talk to, in the house, at the pub, in a restuarant. You might as well be naked and unarmed in the war zone of life. I was down the pub last night and if I had someone to talk to it would have been fun but I didn't and it was just depresing. I have another comic half written out that explores all that, its called, MY LIFE IN SILENCE and it follows a guy through out his day/s who has no one to talk to and how he cant do so much because of it. I have 'spoken' to loads of people about it all on the internet and they all conclude that its a bit like being handicapped, like they could not imagine ever having to suffer solitude for an evening let alone 15 years. I've been dwelling on all the other stuff I dont have, like being able to talk to a girl, look at a beautiful body, have somene touch me. Its making my hair go gray and sapping my life force, I can feel myself dying because of it. And the bottom line is I believe that the government has deliberatly done this to me. I was flipping through my 2000 rejection letters the other day and pondering on how that was 5% of my effort to get a job so I robably made 40,000 applications between 2000-2004. I dont try any more, but if I had had a job I might have met some one. You need a healthy environment to make that happen and they are poisoning every well I can reach. I remember when I first graduated in 1990 and how I would apply for jobs spending entire evenings filling out 1 job application form. I never got a job. I was lied to. I feel so agry, and all that is lost is killing me now. This strip is kind of a product of all that. You could say that that guy is me. I have imaginery girlfriends, sort of. Its not quite like that, but I plan things, I sort of think, we'll i'll do this so that when I have a girlfriend we can do that, so I prepare, I have a decent kitchen because you sort of half expect that when you get a girl she'll appreciate it, and I half imagine what it will be like, but really, I cant imagine anything, i'm so far gone. I see people walking down the road hand in hand and the things they can do. THey can talk, they can change their immediate environment, they can heal each other, recover, create joy and fun. All I have is my own death. I believe the government are trying to force me to accept it but I wont. I see other people like me and theres nothing I can do other than create these stories. I know they help as I know when I seem them that they help me. Its like seeing support for who you are but its so rare as anything that doesn't support the 'proper way of life' in England is attacked. I was reading some of my old stuff the other night and it was sickening in a sense because I can sort of see how right I am, but now theres little solace in being right. Years ago I had an idea that I was right that what was happening to me was wrong, and I wanted to proove, it, but now that I know I am dead and that I am right and that my life has been stolen by the British sysem and wasted I dont really care, there is little point, its worthless to go on. I cannot recover from all that shit. And every future moment will be a futile recollection of what is all too obvious to me now. What I find really painful is how they are trying to shut me up. They want to keep me quiet because this is wherethey get their kicks, their money, their life, but they still want to propogate the lies to create future people like me, and I want to intervene and say no and to make people aware that what is happening to them is going to kill them. But its futile battle because people like me are so few and far between. Entire empires are built around my suffering, like a jesus christ and to stop it is tantamount to terrorism, but i'm not a trorist, I just want the deliberate pain to stop, the stupid people in positions only because they kill you, the kids on street corners attacking me, the people oselling jobs that I'll never get, the girls offering love i'll never see, the familiers offering happyness i'll never know, children, a home, peace, all that. I want to create my own society where there are no idiots, but England is to crowded and they have my number, theyhave me aurrounded. Its a dead end. Fuck, I know all this will sound like shit, I often write stuff like this and reread it later and delete it because it sounds like shit, and really, it is shit when read as it is, but I cant explain things in any other way. I live each day in torment. thats true. there is no solace. fuck no.