OPEN MOUTH
Getting ready for a solitary holiday in the face of this week. The boys are off to their respective families while mine gathers half a country away. I'd be with them but wouldn't you know it - gotta work Friday and Sunday. Thanks, boss. Happy Fucking Holidays to you, too.
Tonight I'm going to Andrew and Julie's Sheva Brachot... which will of course remind me about my wreck of a romantic life. Thank G-d it's at Dougie's. Bring on the buffalo wings. Fat is the new Status Quo.
So, before I head out into the pre-balloon night, two holiday links for you to play amid.
My pally Andrew has two interviews up here and here... go watch him corrupt America's youth.
Jones Soda has caught a bit too much of the holiday spirit. EWWWWW.
"Turkey & Gravy Soda
Category: Other; Packaging: 12 oz glass (355 ml)
Jones Soda's Turkey & Gravy soda is one of the strangest things we've ever tasted. First of all, the product uses an interesting formulation that contains a variety of ingredients rarely (if ever) seen in beverage products and it's zero carb/calorie. Not to mention that we've never had turkey and gravy that was carbonated and sweetened with Splend."
Now go out there and beat the shit out of some turkey.
OPEN MOUTH
That's right, kids. 100 entires in the blog. And they said I'd be stark raving mad by now.
Had a BIG scare yesterday. Life rethinking scare. This, of course, led to massive heartbreak. Followed by 45 minutes on the cross trainer.
Talking to Tommy Beland about a new collaboration. Started a new novel that might get replaced by said collaboration. Spoke to my Diamond rep today and found out I'm ineligible for bookstore distribution but discovered some ways to get the book in front of many, many retailers eyes.
Lots of work to do but emotionally wrecked.
Take me away, Season 3 of OZ.
INSERT FOOT
Rachel turned, reacting to the fact-of-matter voice near her right elbow. The flashing disco ball and dim lights reflected off of her too-blue evening gown. The leather strap around her thigh fairly bulged with singles and she was on her way to the front to cash out with Rocco, the night manager. She regarded the man in the white suit with what she called "the stripper's interest" - half lidded eyes that made men think of sex and a fixed smile that made her think of laughing.
He wasn't bad to look at - far from it. Jet black hair atop a rugged fifty-five year old Marlboro face. The white suit clashed with red shoes, but they looked Italian and expensive so Rachel was able to look past the fashion accident. His fingers, thin and tapered, dangled along the rim of his martini glass, almost as if the tips were fixed to the lip with a rime of glue. She cocked her hips to the left and he cocked his head to the right and they faced off, right there in the center of the Legz main floor, inches away from the south stage.
She let her smile widen as Tony called Charity to the stage and the reedy strains of a forgotten David Bowie tune kicked up from the wheezy speakers.
"Excuse me?"
He grinned. "I said, I'd love to take you away from all this."
"Bet you would. Most men would."
"Well, who blames them? You fill that dress out nicely."
Rachel dropped her fingers down her thigh, drumming it as she teased the edge of her dress... and the stack of dollar bills. "Well, for twenty you can see how it looks the rest of the time."
He waved her towards him, gesturing to the plush chair beside his own. She flounced his way and dropped into the seat, letting her fingers brush his thigh on the way down. Tease and heighten. Tease and heighten.
"Want that dance now, hon? I guarantee you'll like it." She wanted to get it over with now. Something about the guy attracted her...and something about her made her worry. But his money was green, same as every other Joe Jerkoff in the joint that night. And the sooner she finished the dance, the sooner she could cash his money out.
He chuckled. "Oh no... I'm not in the market for a cocktease. I just want to talk."
Ah, one of those. Unlucky at love... too dull to get a girl. She'd heard them all. Some of these guys just wanted a friendly girl to talk to. Well, that might work for party line girls, but in the club it's all about turning over to the next john.
She rose, smoothing her dress out on the ascent. "Look, I'm sorry but I'm working..."
He grabbed her slim wrist and pulled her smoothly down to the chair again. "I can understand that. Don't worry, I'll pay your for your time. How much is a dance?"
"Twenty a table dance. One twenty for champagne."
The white suited man reached into his jacket and removed a silver money clip. He peeled some bills out of the clip and tucked them in Rachel's strap.
"Will that do?"
She glanced down and saw that he had stuck over 500 dollars between the leather and her thigh. "For a start. A drink would clinch it."
He motioned and the barmaid came by. They order their drinks and settled into the chairs, watching the action onstage and the girls hustle down the aisle.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"What's your name?"
"Diamond, sugar. Yours?"
"No... your real name."
Her smile faltered, letting the mask slip. "What makes you think Diamond isn't my real name?"
This time his smile widened. "You don't strike me as a Diamond and I don't strike you as a fool. Fine... Diamond it is. You can call me McCall."
The shook hands and he let his hand linger against her palm. Reflexively, she jerked away. "What do you want?"
"I already told you."
"To take me away from all this... look, Mr. McCall-"
"McCall's my first name."
"Sorry... look, I get at least forty men in here on any given day. Most of them think they can buy and sell me... all of them fall in love with me... and it's cute. And I take them for all of their money... and they go home to their wives, girlfriends or empty aprartment. Now you say you're no fool... but don't you think I've heard your cute little come on before?"
She was tired and it cracked through. The smile started dropping and the guy in front of her started looking less and less appealing. His bald spot glared through the wreath of hair and his grin faltered.
"You haven't heard my offer, though."
She sighed. "No, I haven't. Let me guess.... lots of money?"
"Naturally."
"An apartment off Fifth Avenue? Clothes and jewels and shit like that?"
His face brightened a bit. "All that and more."
"And?"
"Anything your heart desires."
She sighed. Her fingers ruffled through the wad of bills on her leg. She pulled them out and waved them in his face.
"See that? That's what most girls in this joint are after. It's the Almighty Dollar. The Bigger, Better Thing. They come from Oklahoma or Michigan thinking they're going to make it big and then the rent comes in... and the food... and they need to pay for it so they look for work."
A bead of sweat dropped from his brow as her voice rose. She pointed to the barmaid returning with their drinks.
"See her? She came to New York from Seattle to go to school. Dropped out when her student loans ran out, but she still needs to pay them back. Can't find work cause she's got no degree and she can't dance here because she doesn't have the body so she waits. She waits in a strip club. And sometimes they let her dance.. just to pick up a dollar here and there.
"See that girl? Cammy? She came from L.A. to act and when no parts came her way she did some porn. Two years later and she's been through the wringer... adult films, websites... now she dances here three nights a week to make the rent... but she hates herself. She hates the money she makes."
She stood up, towering over the now scared McCall. The barmaid placed the drinks down and took the money away. Rachel placed the money back in her thong.
"You say you can give me anything I want. How about love? Dignity? Self respect? You walk in here... taking hours from whatever sad life you lead... failed marriage, rotten kids...lonely nights . And you think waving your dick and your dollars around will entice some young thing to walk off with you."
She leaned down, hissing in his face, drinking in the smell of embarrassed sweat.
"Fuck you. I dont' want to be taken away from all of this. You CAN'T take me away from what I am, who I am. Truth be told.. you need ME to take you away from all of this. The strip club crawl... the alcoholic binges... the lonely, solitary existence."
He found his voice... wheezing through a once confident set of lungs.
"C... can you?"
Her eyes caught his, high set green-glass orbs staring deep into tear stained rheumy blues. He stammered again. "Please... can you?"
She clicked her tongue. "Of course I can. Twenty a table dance. One twenty for champagne."
She turned on her heel, leaving him to watch her receding form as she strode to the stage with the presence of a regal queen. She stepped up, grasping the pole and with a newly found feeling of self confidence began her dance... eyes surveying her monarchy.
And as she began her performance, she reveled in her grace.
And the music, the sounds, the dance... took her away.
Copyright 2003, Neil Kleid
OPEN MOUTH
All is quiet on the Western front. Nothing much to report on.
Brother Dave is holed up at U of M for his light treatments and rumor has it he'll be kept in for T-giving. That means most of my family is gonna be in the hospital for the holiday which really sucks. Wish I could be there to show solidarity.
Finishing up PENICIL LYNN this week and I shoud hit page 70 on NINETY CANDLES as well. Writing goes poorly - I need to rewrite ONE LAST JOB and start DEAD RONIN. Finding an artist for that is tough... but I think I have an artist for ACTION, OHIO. Check out his stuff here.
I also am geeked to start a new novel. I wanna do a HARRY POTTEResque book called THE SECRET LIFE OF WALLY MEIERS. It's about heroes and quests and robots and shit. I think I'll put COFFIN on hiatus for a bit and see where this takes me.
Heh. Robot shit.
ACTIVISM: Please go help my friend Rory. If you order one comic, one graphic novel, it'll help. Thanks.
Looks like im gonna be radio interviewd in Detroit soon. We're taping on the 21st of December... i'll post the info when i know.
This weekend I am going to meet Alex Ross and Chip Kidd at a MoCCA fundraiser...which reminds me that I need to get a table for the show.
Schedule for next week:
Monday: Dinner with friends; gym/write/draw
Tuesday: Drinks with an editor
Wednesday: Sheva BRachot for Andrew and Julie. Might blow this off to hang out with Michelle.
Thursday: FOOTBALL and write/draw
Friday: Meeting with Media Blasters
Gotta get NINETY CANDLES moving at Diamond, with retailers and so forth.
I hope I wake up by Monday.
Last night I saw the last episode of OZ. What a letdown... here I thought we'd end with a key player getting paroled (Beecher or Alvarez) and it ends in such a way that it left open the possibility of more... but yet it didnt cause it had a very final ending. I would rather have had the show end showing that life goes on in OZ... never ending... instead of evacuating everyone cause of chemical threat. The BEST part was the Beecher/Schillinger denounment - how awesome was it that they did it ala MacBeth/MacDuff. Very fitting.
Anyway... back to work.
Peace.
Apparently RANT COMICS #3 has been Optical Slothed.
"This was a solid, if not fantastic, book. A few stories in here. The first is part one of a larger series about suburbia and trying to get out of it. Yes, everybody and their brother has done a story about being tired of where they live, but Neil does it really well."
"get this book, read it, and enjoy it. Good work all around."
For more info on RANT COMICS, check this out.
OPEN MOUTH
Okay, okay. I'm awake.
Damn relaxing weekend. Didn't do too much. Pretty quiet weekend, all things considered. Had a lunch party with a group of friends on Saturday and we talked about the joys of porn. It seems everyone is doing better than me - making more money, buying houses, financial independence... it gets me worried two years shy of 30. Also, it seems that my work schedule is being compromised by all the socializing im doing - everyone wants to have dinner, have drinks, do the town. I have editor drinks and friend lunches up the ass... so when am i supposed to write/draw?
Saturday night, went to an engagement party for my friend Jerry and then watched some episodes of the fourth season of SOPRANOS and caught part of ROAD TO PERDITION. Something is getting me into Jude Law as an actor - I was turned off by his abilities in AI (then again, that whole movie freaked me out) and I'll admit I want to see what he does with COLD MOUNTAIN... but ROAD really made me say "hey... i like this dude."
Yesterday I caught MYSTIC RIVER. I was really looking forward to this because it had a "COPLAND" feel to it and I have mixed emotions on it. For one, I think there were parts that just dragggggged. As well, the movie really should've ended ten-fifteen minutes earlier than it did. There was a great point where I was like "ok... end it now" and then it just kept going. Penn and Robbins were both great but I wanted to see more of a range of emotions from Bacon. Also, I kind of figured out the payoff halfway through the movie, so I was sitting there saying "ok, morons...figure it out." And Laurence Fishburne with a Boston accent? Naw. But I liked the overall "feel" of the movie... I liked the story... Eastwood's directing and the cinematography really helped make this a visually pleasing movie. I'll see it again when its out on tape.
Trailers:
COLD MOUNTAIN: I dunno, Renee Zellwegger is pissing me off. But Kidman looks hot ...plus, like i said, im digging Jude Law lately. Not to mention I';m a sucker for historical fiction which brings me to...
THE LAST SAMURAI: I'm studying the Way of the Samurai - reading BUSHIDO and the like for my next graphic novel... this movie is part and parcel of my research. If only it wasnt Tom Cruise.
RETURN OF THE KING: Come on, December. What a stirring preview... what a fucking tease.
Comics:
LOVE FIGHTS is probably one of my new favorite books followed by THE LOSERS- of which my love is well documented. I picked up UNION STATION by Parks and Barretto...I wanted to like this, i really did...but i dunno - maybe i got too confused right around the action. Maybe I thought some of the characters looked a little TOO alike. Beats me. I wasnt as excited as when I read Oni's last TPB, ONE PLUS ONE. Sorry, guys.
Last night, I took part in a round robin about EPIC, Oni and comics with J. Torres, James Lucas Jones and Augie DeBlieck. It was a lot of fun, but I think I came off sounding like an idiot. I like Augie... he's the kind of guy I could have drinks with and talk pop culture til we're blue in the face. Must make a point to catch up with him at a con.
Working on: NINETY CANDLES illos, the second page of "PENCIL" LYNN, the script for ONE LAST JOB and a few pitch ideas. DEAD RONIN is on deck, and I need to find an artist for that plus ACTION, OHIO.
I asked my fellow HO12 contributors a bunch of stupid questions. They gave me curse-y answers. Jen Contino of the PULSE graciously ran it all. Be warned - it's dirty!
Check out the madness .
Back with some "INSERT FOOT" later.
Peace, yo.
OPEN MOUTH
Someone suggested to me that maybe the reason I don't keep a regular blog is that my entires are just so damn long. So starting now - bite sized Kleid. Easier to read. And half the fat!
Yay for Mike Sangiacomo and his lovely wife, Laura (from JUST SHOOT ME? Oh, forget it...)... and yay for Image - class acts, class acts.
I was just asked to take part in a roundtable discussion for a noted comics website column. We're talking this Sunday night and it should be up in the next 2 weeks...
Seems that BOTH my original secret projects are dead- EPIC bombed horribly and Oni informs me this week that theyre passing on the second. Ah well - gear up, pick up, move on.
I love HBO On Demand, by the way. I've been sitting through the fourth season of THE SOPRANOS this week and I'm looking forward to when they start playing Oz, Season 3. This month HBO is running Season 6, but I, like a bitch, already read the synopsis for the rest of the show, so I'm able to follow...
Can't wait for the weekend to kick off - comics today, friends for lunch tomorrow, and FINALLY, a creative Sunday to myself. Still sad that I won't be going to AC with a certain sweet, funny, cute girl (yeah, yeah...i know she's reading this) but looks like we may reschedule for a Sunday in December - which is better cause it'll be cold.... and I get romantic in the winter.
That's it for this week. Thank god- it fucking killed me.
Here's where we're going:
- Finishing the second page of "PENICIL" LYNN for the Canadian anthology.
- Keeping on with the illos for NINETY CANDLES. Gotta buy the ISBN number and call Diamond next week. Talking to WestCan about paper stock and inks.
- Start compiling a list of retailers to contact. Look into creating a poster for CANDLES to give away as a promotion.
- Keep writing ONE LAST JOB - hit page 30 by the end of November.
- Finish the research on DEAD RONIN; start writing.
- Write THE BIG KAHN #2... get the art for #1 to the publisher to see what's what.
Head down; Feet forward.
OPEN MOUTH
Crazy technological demons have taken over my home computer and internet cable... it's making everything come out screwy, superimposing Rosie O'Donnell's face pver Paris Hilton's on my array of stroke tapes.
That being said, I've been forced to think.
Having issues with creativity... I've been jerking out the drawings and a few pitches, but in general my creative writing has dropped. Could be 'cos I'm shitfire tired by the time I get home... hell, in general I'm shitfire tired during the day, too. I need to map it all out - write 5 pages of COFFIN, write 5 pages of script (DEAD RONIN or ONE LAST JOB, makes no diff). That way, by bits and starts, I'll get something done.
Signing the contracts today for BROWNSVILLE. Here I come, comics rockstarness.
My weekend plans just went belly up, so maybe I'll use the time to write/draw...but I'll probably end up drinking and wishing I had a woman with me on Saturday night, followed by gym/TV on Sunday. I'm livin' the dream,suckahs!
Spliced an interview for the PULSE together last night... gotta make some changes, but I ain't so sure they'll use it - too many dirty, filthy words. Like "ass." And "Harry Potter."
Slowly, slowly waking up again kids... time to fuck shit up once more.
INSERT FOOT
I'll take one of these, with a side of ribs.
Waiter, there's a condom in my soup
"I thought it was calamari or shrimp or something so I chewed one more."
"LOS ANGELES, California (Reuters) -- Waiter, there is something worse than a fly in my soup.
A California woman who found a condom in her bowl of clam chowder has sued the upscale restaurant that served it to her -- saying she has suffered depression and anxiety from the shocking discovery."
OPEN MOUTH
Work work work... I can't breathe here at the job and I'm zonked when I get home. Just got the DSL hooked up at home so a real entry should be forthcoming.
In the meantime, listen to the sound of my ulcer taking over my body.
OPEN MOUTH
Let's see... on the bad side, EPIC canceled my JACK OF HEARTS project. Dean and I co-plotted it and I was scripting with Dean and Nick Bertozzi handling the art chores. We're trying a few new ideas with them, but who knows...
On the good side...
Here's the full release:
New York, NY - The Xeric Foundation, established by Peter Laird (www.xericfoundation.com) today announced Neil Kleid as a recipient of one of seven grants. The Foundation will award Kleid with fund to publish and distribute NINETY CANDLES, a 48 page improvisational “mini graphic novel” that documents the life span of a struggling cartoonist – each panel acting as a snapshot of a consecutive year.
From the statement of purpose: “NINETY CANDLES is a completely improvisational comic book - no script, no net. Each day is created THAT day. The original plan was to do a page per day and set three months as the cut off date for the story. Whatever I ended up with on Day 90 would be the finale. Time and method become major factors in the narrative itself. Each page of NINETY CANDLES represents a consecutive year in the life of its protagonist, Kevin Hall. The "spaces" between panels morph into "spaces" between years and as such we get to see the shape and breadth of our intrepid cartoonist's life, the decisions that shape that existence, and his eventual final days. NINETY CANDLES began as an exercise in style, method and patience, but has resulted in far more. It has grown to present not only the unfolding of a life through sequential illustration, but also the reiteration of the importance of time and pacing in the medium of comic books.”
Kleid on the Xeric Grant: “Words cannot properly convey how shocked I am upon being awarded the grant. I honestly submitted NINETY CANDLES on a lark, only because everyone else was doing it. I think I must have sent three thank you emails to the Xeric folks. Peter Laird and the Foundation are out there making sure that people like me have no excuse not to make GOOD COMICS. Lack of money has been the only valid stumbling block stopping creators from just doing comics, and with the creation of a wonderful organization like the Xeric Foundation, whiners who say they have no time or money to do comics have become simply that. I thank the Xeric judges and overseers more than words can say and if asked at a convention, I will wash every one of their cars.”
NINETY CANDLES, a 48 page graphic novel written, illustrated and published by Neil Kleid, will debut Summer 2004. Samples of the book will soon be available at rantcomics.com. More information and retailer preview requests can be obtained by emailing .
The official Xeric press release:
“The Xeric Foundation has announced its most recent grant recipients. A total of $26,960 was awarded to seven comic book creators. The Foundation has awarded in excess of $1,245,000 to comic book creators and non-profit organizations since its first grant cycle in September 1992.
Established by Peter Laird, co-creator of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the Northampton, MA based foundation offers financial assistance to self-publishing comic book creators in the US and Canada and to qualified charitable and nonprofit organizations in western Massachusetts.
The next deadline and review dates are January 31, 2004 and March 1, 2004, respectively.
The charitable organization grants were decided in June 2003 and announced separately.
The artists receiving grants are as follows:
Alex Fellows – CANVAS
Jay Hacker – HEADSTATIC
Jon “Bean” Hastings, editor – SPARK GENERATORS II
Neil Kleid – NINETY CANDLES
Joel Rivers – ALONG THE CANADIAN
Leslie Stein – YEAH, IT IS!
Michael Zittel – MASTER CATFISH
For information, write to:
XERIC FOUNDATION
351 Pleasant Street #214
Northampton, MA 01060
Or e-mail to: ”
INSERT FOOT
Oh, sometimes I have to laugh.
Man drops cell phone in train toilet, jams arm
"NEW YORK- Cell phone users have been known to complain about poor service, but one New York man's mobile literally went down the toilet.
The man was on a suburban train from Grand Central Station on Wednesday night when he went to the bathroom to make a phone call, dropped the phone into the toilet bowl and then his hand and arm became stuck trying to retrieve it, officials said. "
Rumsfeld unsure of missing 'mojo'
"WASHINGTON (Reuters) -- U.S. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld has said he does not know whether or not he has lost his mojo, as a leading news magazine suggested, largely because he doesn't really know what mojo is.
"Is Rumsfeld Losing His Mojo?" was the headline in Time magazine above a story about Rumsfeld's recent difficulties concerning Iraq policy and differences with U.S. lawmakers."
Web site celebrates joys of beards
"PENSACOLA, Florida (AP) -- A bearded Jerry Jackson and his wife were tickled by some of the hairy faces they observed at a North Carolina folk festival last year.
"We saw men with beards down to their belt buckles, and braided and dreadlocked beards, and flaming red beards and big bushy beards," Jackson says. "
OPEN MOUTH
My apartment is a very fine apartment.
Moved in this weekend but still don't have a phone or internet so I'm blogging from work... Verizon fucked up and made two of our lines ring with one number - not MINE. Psycho ex-roomate came up eight times yesterday and accused me of stealing some of his precious gourmet food... fuck that. Kick you in the gourmet balls, psycho. Later for you.
Things look good in the new place... Jason and Shmuel are good guys - the only danger is that none of us are ever getting any work done again. We sat down two nights ago to watch the first MATRIX and I slowly realized I'm back in TV zone... which is no good for productivity. I guess I'll have to exert the willpower - but I'm already trying to do that for weight loss and LOSING. Had three slices today.. bad bad bad bad fuck you.
Getting back into the comics swing tonight - I start the first set of 15 illos to finish 90 CANDLES...which I am surprised hasn't been leaked in a press release by the Folks who matter yet. Hm. Well, it's all here.
Also, Jake sent the next batch of BROWNSVILLE pages and suh-weeeet. Nice and dramatical.
Dabb and I are putting some touches on the DUMB LUCK pitch for a publisher and I have to refine TUNNELS and HENCHMAN while I cleam up ONE LAST JOB. That last one excites me and I cannot wait to start writing it...
Apart from that? It looks like both original secret projects are a bust - EPIC is a no, natch, and the other one...well, the publisher is taking a looong time with it so I'm not so hopeful. Shame. I kinda liked that one.
I'd like to take a second to say a few things to the various internet folks out there:
1) Stop being so sensitive. Not everyone is attacking you. Not everything people say on the internet means what you think it means.
2) Comics can be- and are - sold at the airport. So shut the fuck up.
3) James Sime has done more for the comics industry by saying something positive than you ever will by bitching and moaning about it.
4) It's a beautiful day outside. Get up. Go.
There. I said it.
Been reading the Hagakure lately, studying up on Japanese culture for DEAD RONIN...fascinating stuff. It's a great way to discipline your life and most of it is relevant today - grooming, humility, dedication and loyalty... as Jews we believe that we're born to serve G-d and if necessary, lay our lives down in honor of G-d and religion; The Way of the Samurai states that life is pointless without a master to serve, and the ultimate goal in a ronin's life is to sacrifice himself for that master.
Fascinating, really.
My guilty pleasure this week.
Is it bad that I'm tired all of the time? I miss Jolt cola. And speed.
Bite my Louisville Sandwich, psycho ex-roomate. And you can join him, internet ignorants.
INSERT FOOT
Can you say GET AWESOME.
How about now?