* I believe Paul is going to be at Wizard World Texas in November to launch the first FREAKANGELS collection, signing books and doing sketches and performing short interpretive dance pieces and the like. At the same time, I will be at home in front of an open fire with a large glass of mulled wine, doing none of those things and laughing actually quite a lot.
* Not that I hate conventions. I mean, I do hate conventions, but really only because signing stuff for several hours a day and doing three hour talks and all that bloody walking seems like hard work when your job is in fact sitting on your arse making shit up for sixteen hours a day. But I prefer to do only one American comics show a year, at most. Because it’s nice to get a round of applause for walking into a room, but you can’t let that convince you that you’re in any way “famous,” and you can’t let yourself get used to it, and you can’t let yourself want more of it. Because when that happens you really have gone quite mad and there’s very rarely any coming back from it. You become That Guy, you turn up at all the shows, you wear your name badge in the street for hours after the show to help people recognise you just in case, you start urinating in the bed at night and find that it somehow feels comforting and right, you pay whores to read from a special script you wrote while they rummage around in your fundament with a rubber-gloved hand like a vet looking for a calf, you…
* You know, these tablets seem quite strong tonight. Maybe I shouldn’t have had the whisky with them after all.
* Anyway. Conventions. Yes. I don’t do many of them. Don’t eat Paul while he’s in Texas.
* I do actually get recognised in the street sometimes. It is extremely unsettling.