San Leandro is a very interesting town with a lot of nice folks

I'm sometimes amazed at the little pockets of heaven on earth, and I'd have to say that San Leandro is way up there in terms of places where a lot of good folks live who have at least some sense of humor. I know my gig is a little weird, and I really appreciate folks that have made this life happen.

I did think, that with maybe one or two exceptions, that is was funny how the folks with the biggest christmas displays were the least likely to even look at my work so far.

I like the quaint, unique nature of each little house in SL, it's a lot like Boulder, where there are many houses of different designs in the center of town and extending out about a mile.

Certainly, at least at some point, there must have been some sort of art/architecture competition of some sort going on, because a lot of the houses are extremely interesting compared to houses in say, Albany. I mean, sure, there are a lot of similar houses in SL, but there are quite a few daimonds among the coal, so to speak.

Well, it may be a little while before I can post toons again, as I have to do another set of inking sessions, and that is a taking a bit of time with some of these complex lines. A lot of folks don't realize how much time all of this takes on the creative side. I'd say, to be conservative, it takes at least 40 minutes from four box strip concept to fully realized four box strip. Sometimes it takes two hours. so, each page of two has at least 80 minutes, others 4-6 hours on them.

The artist experiences poverty and a slashed state budget

Well, I went to the emergency room, and they were quite nice. They gave me a prescription, but the medicine is very expensive. Due to my condition at the time, I was unable to work to make any money. They gave me some stuff at the emergency room that calmed down my asthma, which was exacerbated by my cold, but, unfortunately, the clinic to get the stuff cheaper (or free), was closed! When I finally could get to them, I had, luckily, somewhat recovered, though my condition is still dicey. Now, I've lost the 'scrip, so I couldn't go in when they were open, which is only two days, in the morning, a week!

How many poor folks die of this condition I don't know, but the state of California's medical system is in a shambles, and clearly, some die due to this. I'm lucky so far, but I do have a dangerous condition, and, due to the economic times, I'm under a lot more pressure then I was before.

Cops treated me well in Brisbane

So, Brisbane is a small town, on a 78degree hill to the south of SF. I am visiting a friend here, and went into town to sell some toons. It's a long walk down a very steep hill. The town itself is pretty, each house is unique and the people inside the houses are all quite friendly.

About ten minutes into doing my job in this small town, a police car rolled up. "Can I talk with you a moment?" Asked the young officer. I was of course happy to talk. "Do you need a license to do this?" he asked. I told him I didn't think so, since I have no set price on my wares and (as many readers of this blog know since I changed tactics a few weeks ago) I don't ask for any money in my pitch. He smiled. Another officer arrived as we waited for my ID to check out. I told them how I've been doing this a year or so and doing well, and I'd only been stopped two other times the whole time.

My ID checked out, and they said they like my toons and told me others might call, but it was a small town after all. I just smiled and told them that they were just doing their job, which they were (and doing it well I might add). How's this compared to the "neighborhood of the damned" I was in a few weeks ago?

on desert experiences when off work.

The other day, I had a very interesting time in the Mojave desert. I was attending a dance party in the far out desert, and decided to walk to a crag of rocks far off in the distance. When I got there, I found a pile of old rocks in the crag. Now, many of you may not know this, but in the ancient times, men used to carve rocks with faces and stories, and deposit them at certain locations. It turns out, this crag was one of them. I picked up one rock, and found delicately etched into it a mayan face, complete with an earring. Another, I found a seal. I found one rock, covered with dust, and withdrew it from the pile. I wiped the dust away to find the image of a frightening creature (which I will someday transmute into a figure in my cartoons) looking like he was crawling out of the dirt. I imagined a whole story of the creature attacking a sleeping bear (which was cleverly etched above the image). I decided that I had to replace the stone exactly as I had found it, but, when i looked, I couldn't find any dirt in the pile! How had the monster on the stone gotten covered with dirt when there was no dirt amongst the rocks? Then it hit me: the creator of the rock had gone down off the crag, gotten some dirt, and poured it on the rock long ago. So, I did the same thing. I went down to a snake hole and found some fine dust, brought it back to the crag and, while thanking the original sculptor, I poured the dust onto the 1.5 inch rock in the middle of nowhere in the desert and thanked the Great Spirit (or God or whatever) for creating the earth, the rock, the dust and myself to honor this ancient art piece.

Afterwards, I was walking back to the dance party, when I espied some movement on the ground. It was an ant colony. Then, low and behold, I saw a beetle, about the size of two adult thumbnails, digging with the same motions a dog would into the pile around the anthill, obviously either eating something, or getting moisture. I saw that many of the ants were carrying tiny little twigs into the hole. I began to impute personalities to the little creatures, when, suddenly, a tiny desert spider leapt out of the ground and snatched an ant about a third larger then it was! the hairy spider, which was about the size of a grain of rice, if not smaller, immobilized the ant in a tenth of a second, and then casually walked off with it's humongous prize.

Amazing.

I highly recommend staring at the movements on the ground: they can be a lot more exciting then you might first imagine.

When did you stop being creative?

The other day, I was out and about, doing my work. 2 hours, only five bucks. But, the last few houses each gave me five bucks each totalling me to twenty. A few days earlier, I was walking some other streets, and I ran into a friend of mine, Owen, who suggested I don't ask folks for any money at all. This idea intrigued me. I started doing it immediately, and found that I made the same amount of money I had made earlier. So, as a few of you know, my new rap is only about my art, and I don't mention money anymore. Anyway, I was walking by one house, and the woman of the place was gardening. I started doing my rap, and she said no thx. Then she added, "I was an artist for many years." I immediately responded: "i'm sorry." She was taken aback. "why are you sorry?" I smiled, "because, i was hoping you would say you WERE an artist NOW." She smiled, "I AM an artist," she corrected her language. Or did she?

Different neighborhoods and how the class system works

I'm not socialist, though some socialist ideas are interesting and possibly applicable to our society, but, it would take a moron to not see that there is distinct class divisions between neighborhoods. A glaring example is the the "frontage road effect." Lets say you are in a very wealthy neighborhood. Generally, the houses are on between 1/4 to 1/2 acre. But...if there is a road that is frontage road to a larger thoroughfare, usually houses right along that road are on 1/16 lots, smaller and more cottagy. I'm imagining that the rich people won't live near a road, but the town wants the property tax money, so, instead of allowing one house to build itself way in and have a large lawn, instead, the city zones that street for folks with less wealth, acting as a sort of bulwark from the road for all the richer folks in the interior streets.

favorite blow off recently: "We don't have enough money to do anything special at this time."

San Rafael and the Oakland Court story

The other day i was referring to San Rafael, not San Leandro.

the other day, I told a vagabond that had had his dog taken by the police based on what I believed to be a misunderstanding, that I would help him get his dog back. I had promised to do this 2 weeks earlier as well. I woke up very early and got to the train station at 7:30 AM, after about a 35 minute walk. My friend, who is generally coherent, had always treated his dog well, and it was friendly, well fed and loving to his master at all times. He arrived at about 7:40, telling me he had had to get some medicine.

Although he had expected six different people to show up, only me and another woman, who I recognized as a person who was "there" when things are going bad for the destitute of spirit (and sometimes mind). She had her own problems to deal with that day, but was taking some time to help this genleman, who I call "the Rev," because he sometimes babbles about the bible and has introduced himself as the "the Reverend ____ _____," using his real name, which I won't be publishing.

So, she gives the Rev a 20 to buy a breakfast, takes his papers and says she has to take a bus and "she'll be right back." It is 8:30. At 9:25, at my instigation, we finally leave, realizing she is not coming back with the papers we gave her to copy. We had told her that we needed to meet someone at 10:00 at the Ashby station, so, we took off. Luckily, she was there, and so was the other person, the owner of a local nightclub, who had a note also guaranteeing the Rev's ability to take care of his dog.

We go to the Oakland courtroom where the Rev has to address charges of animal cruelty, in the opinion of all of his friends unfounded, about some nonsense about him "forcing the dog to drag a cart," which is utter tripe.

Unfortunately, the Rev has a "bullet" in his lung, from some former shooting incident 2o years earlier, and he starts wincing in pain, muttering about the "transmission waves" coming from the top of the building. We sit in the pews for about 2 hours. He practically keels over in the court, and, when finally ready to deal with the judge, is limping along, moaning in pain, and talks incoherently to the judge. "receipt, paper, dog," he says with no connecting language. The judge, a grey haired woman with a sense of humor yet at the same time a surly and "no poppycock" personality, immediately tells the Rev to sit down in the jury box.

After another few minutes, we are escorted outside, where in the corridor, the Rev is informed through his anxiety hyperbole that he has to get finger-printed before any other action can take place. You can see the wincing nature of the DA informing him of these facts in his face. He is trying to be nice to the crazy, incoherent man.

As soon as we get outside, the Rev becomes totally coherent again, and, when we suggest he go into the police station and get his fingers printed, he says, "i will do it on Monday, right now, my stomach hurts too much." We are both at this point exasperated, and finally, I throw up my hands and take off.

The Rev is totally coherent, the courtroom actions in no way reflect on his capability as a person who can take reasonable care of himself and very good care of his dog, and the level of fear that he had that caused him to react in this anxious way is solely due to the harsh nature of the building and the charges leveled against him. On the other hand, I have only so much time to give to folks that won't help themselves, and i'd say it's more than most.

Later, the Rev bought me a lemonade and thanked me for showing up and showing the DA that others besides himself respected his ability to take care of himself and the dog. So, I hope I helped.

A lackluster day

I Only worked an hour today, but here are some new toons.

I'm fast running out of territory in this region, and I'm considering either moving or at least traveling to Menlo Park or Alameda or maybe San Leandro. I could probably bike on over to the El Cerrito bart and catch a bus for a few bucks over to SL, which I'm sure has many of the same sort of folks as Albany and the El Cerritos. I've been in this area about a year ago, and I'm pretty familiar with it, and I'd like to check out some new scenery. On a more humanistic level, I'm not completely happy about seeing new things, or change, but I am happy once it happens. I sort of enjoy not knowing and the after effects of knowing what I did not know before.

Not everyone is a stereotype, but some folks actually work towards it.

yesterday was a hard day. I was directed to a very posh community, in what turned out to be a semi gated community. Now, i don't want to disparage everyone in this neighborhood, but the neighborhood itself was painful, weird and unfriendly in a way that no other part of the city even comes close to.

First, the first house I went to had a nice woman who full understood the connection between art, business and hippy-traveller/entrepeneurialism that I was driving at. I'm on my pal's computer, so, I'm not sure I spelled that last one right, but whatever. Anyway, the very NEXT house, the lady looked at me sort of coldly and said, "we require tags for this part of the city. I was like, fine, good luck, as I always say. Three more houses down, a 17 year old comes to the door, I say, "are your parents available?", and before he can even say yes or no, he catches himself, actually lies to my face, says no (yes, I see them) and says, "what's this about?" I said, "If I can't get a straight answer, I'm leaving." he actually apologized for lying and shut the door! Next, I stop at another house, the lady says the same thing, "you need a tag in this part of the city. I say, well, I'm a traveller, and are the other folks creative, doing their own thing, or just selling magazines? She tells me they aren't, but it doesn't matter. Fine, good luck! And I move on.

I have to add here, I have NEVER heard this before in SIX MONTHS of working in Oakland and Berkeley.

I'm at a final house, on the corner, a women comes to the door, a woman that appears to have some class. I give her my short spiel, which takes at most 15 seconds, but she cuts me off in the middle and says "no thanks." Ok, Great. I say good luck. I'm walking away, and this woman takes the time to come back out of her door, and call down to me, "excuse me sir, sir..." I spin around, "let me guess, " I say, "I need a tag?" She nods. I look at her and I say, "I've been doing this for six months in the city, and I have never heard this before, yet I have heard it three times in this neighborhood. Do you know what that tells me about this neighborhood?" She looks at me and says, "no, what?" I respond: "I'm not going to tell you, you figure it out." At which point she ran inside, probably to call the police on the surly itinerant artist in her midst.

There are many wonderful, lovely folks in Oakland, and a little later, I was down by the Grand, talking with an old black lady. I told her I had been in this specific, though it shall remain nameless, neighborhood. She rolled her eyes. "The rich," she said, and told me where there were more mixed neighborhoods where, despite any other form of rejection, people treat each other with decency and don't lie to avoid conflict as a family value. I don't have a problem with rejection: I do have a problem with people who lump a 46 year old scholar/musician/artist with 16 year old ghetto youth that sell crooked magazine subscriptions. On the way to a neighborhood that looks clean, where did so many residents lose all their class? The other neighborhoods, with all their good people, struggling to get by and good, even if they reject me, to a humble artist, makes this one, despite all it's fancy lawns, pretty houses and clean children, look bad, filthy and dirty.

Some places may look nice, have pretty lawns, even have access to good schools, but the class of people in them is so low, that I think it would be an embarrassment to raise one's children there, for fear that they might become as crass as their neighbors.

I'll probably upload tomorrow, but today I want to talk about "street mentality."

Something I've noticed as I walk streets and talk with folks, is that different neighborhoods have different ways of saying no.

Like, in one neighborhood, everyone says, "I'd really LOVE to help, but I can't right now." In another, "I can't help." is all they say. In some it's "I WISH I could help," in others, "I won't be helping you." Oddly, often the same basic comment is made through a certain set of streets, but then on other streets, very nearby, folks are in a totally different space. My theory is that folks take their subconscious cues from some maven in one of the houses nearby, and use whatever lingo that person uses.

The interesting thing about this is the "mood" of the response. I really don't have that much of a problem with someone saying, "I don't like art, I don't like cartoons, and I'm not going to help you." Ok, fine. Or, "I don't read cartoons, but good luck." Also fine. But, I feel genuine pity for someone who tells me "I can't." How disempowering. A total stranger has knocked on their door, offering some item, and the person inside feels, at least on some level that they CANNOT help, even if they want to. This is very similar to someone who says, "it's my policy not to do any business at the door," which is all good and fine, except that if you create a policy, you have the right to break it, especially if it's worth ten seconds of your time, and sure, if that's your "policy," whatever...but, if you say, "I'd like to help/look at/buy your stuff, BUT I have a no sales at the door policy," now you are living by the letter, not the spirit of your own laws.

When I was a kid, I read a funny Mad Magazine cartoon that sort of sums up this "I can't, I have too many rules" type of thinking. A husband and wife are trying to decide wether to get a subaru or a volkswagon. Finally, they decide to flip a coin. It comes up Subaru. Both of them angrily throw down their car description books, "Darn it," says the husband, "I really wanted a Volkswagon." "Yeah," agrees the wife, "me too." In other words, because they pretended to themselves they didn't care, they feel they have to invest the decision in some coin, despite both of them disagreeing with its result!

I always wish everyone who rejects my pitch "good luck." With such disempowering ideas, many need as much luck as they can get!

Kudos to Hammid

My pal Hammid let me scan a few toons today. I worked for 2 hours and made nothing, then made 40 in the last 20 minutes. I have to go farther afield i think, since i was just here a year ag0.

A little bummed out at the lack of cheap downloading services in Berkeley

Howdy folks. Well, yesterday I met a man with a very bright orange shirt, and today I saw flowers that were decidely purple. I had a interesting discussion about the reason for banking practices with a banker, in which I described how fees are a direct burden on the working poor, because, those with a few hundred in the bank at all times ( I guess the lower middle class), don't have the problem of the gauging via fees in their life. In my case, the bank had numerous purchases "still on hold" when I went over my "balance," which was not, apparently what was printed on my online account. In one case, I had a 75cent purchase held back six weeks until I went over my account balance, at which point it suddenly was released: for a 35 dollar surcharge. my point: the bank profits more from negative and positive accounts then it does from zeroed out accounts. If you HAVE money in the bank, they can get a loan out of it, if you OWE money, they can SELL the debt to someone else. If, on the other hand, you have just "no money," or a few pennies minus or plus in the account, it's useless. Thus, those living on the edge financially are particularly burdened by these fees, which are simply imaginary income for evil banks, because they kick in Usuriously, in a way that is unexpected. For a 200 dollar overdraft, i'm being charged 890 dollars! Supposedly because I overdrafted "before" all the other purchases went through, even though my overdraft was the last thing I ever did in the account, over a week past any other purchase, all the other purchases rack up 35 dollar fees. If that is not illegal, it is certainly immoral.

Stay tuned, I will print out new cartoons in a few days.
If I do not soon meet up with a scanner, I will go to a Kinkos.

Not too perfect, but just so.

Well, I'm not sure we can see this picture all that well. in fact, I just realized, it's not fully done, but, being at Kinko's, we'll have to live with it. Life in the tent is going ok, and sales of cartoons are good.

The life of an itinerant cartoonist

Well, again, not able to send pictures, but the day has been interesting. I broke my bike, walked all over town, and played some music this morning. I've pretty much spent every available dime on my bike, but it didn't stop me from drawing two new cartoons today. Hector has been becoming more and more of a main character. I had him talking with Oscar, without Max present.

Business not as usual

Well, I can't load a picture today, But I thought I'd relate my present situation. I've moved out of my house, into a tent, where I have my keyb0ards, guitar and art pad. I'm still working, and I'll probably take off for Burning Man at the end of the month. I've been enjoying Boulder, with all its different circuses, and I might return for September and October, but I will eventually go to California I think. Soon I will go to Kinkos and load a few 'toons, but that will be in a few days.

It's over when it's over

Great. No apartment soon, but at least I got my tooth pulled. Sheesh. They say that toothache was the leading cause of suicide in the middle ages. I'm not surprised. I'm going to do some parts of North Boulder tonight. Looks like my deposit is going to be gobbled up with all sorts of minutae, which is pretty unfair, since I've only been here 2 months! I've lost $570 in deposits in the last few months due to unscrupulous housemates and renters. That sort of sucks. Well, in the worst case scenario, I will go to the west, live in my tent, and scan these into some Kinko's machine.

Life isn't Easy

What a lousy three days. First, I hurt my back sitting wrong! Jimininies! Then, my toothache has gotten really bad, so, I have to go the Dentist and spend another 140+ dollars on saving my face from extreme pain. Then, yesterday, I took a major spill on my bike! Needless to say, I haven't been out since Saturday, and I'm hoping to work tomorrow.