Book-Worm Vs. Rock-Star

At seven, I decided I was either going to be a book-worm or a rock-star...

Just ask my parents about the hours of painful guitar solos they endured during my teenage years and i think it's a safe bet to assume they always knew my lack of musical talent or charisma left the rock-star path out of the running.
(A note to those who know me: if you read the titles of the books behind me, i think they explain a lot. Dinosaurs and fairy tales...have I changed at all?)

It's been a slow week work-wise, filled with odd-jobs and editing of one kind or another. Finished re-drafting the comic for Accent UK, only to start throwing around ideas for a new project via e-mail with editor Dave West (follow the link on the right to find yourself in his wonderful Strange Times blog).

I have been enjoying Matt Smith's debut as The Doctor, and I am reading Kafka. Wasn't sold at first but The Stoker short story has turned me around. Ray Bradbury is next. I haven't read a book of his since last year when I consumed Farenheit 451 and The Illustrated Man in a matter of days. Something Wicked This Way Comes is next on my list and I can't wait. I've missed him.

I also visited my friend Louise Richardson to talk about a mini-comic we want to make together, and I drew and inked a super-special-one-of-a-kind illustration for writer Max Deacon's birthday. If you ask him, maybe he'll show you.

I've promised a million times to have my installation photos up here, so that will happen in the next few days.

Until next time, when I have more exciting news than what I'm reading...