Posted by johnamor | Filed under Photos
I hold a copy of Urban Animal #2 open on my sweaty left palm, trying to balance it as I sign Budjette’s introduction page with my right. I ask for the kind lad’s name twice before I actually put pen to paper, scared of futzing it up. You’d be surprised how many variations seemingly common names can have. And I don’t remember the last time I actually hand-wrote a full sentence. Sorry if I fucked up your comic, friend.
Cousins Jason and Carlo are on-site, along with high school buddies. Makes the day feel a lot like a friendly reunion. Zerothreetwo is a e-zine that showcases the destinations, events, and personalities of Cebu. I wander to their booth evry now and then to shoot the shit. Jason keeps bringing up “No Other Woman.” I make a note to download it or something. I take it all under advisement.
I don’t notice until after, but I walk under a buncha dudes on a ladder setting up a zip-line demo as I go back to my perch. That probably wasn’t very smart. I sit at the tambayan lovingly called “Stone Henge” with Vinzon “Bleedman” Ngo and colorists Ian Areola and Cristian Sabarre. Close to noon, the steady influx of nerds, dresser-uppers, and just plain lost people slowly turns into a comic convention. Rey offers to take care of my bagful of comics for me, probably noticing my misery. Freed of the weight, I hit the Comic X Hub booth in search of new burdens. Lawrence, easily among the friendliest guys around, sets me up with a buncha DC firsts.
I’m sitting on pavement with JP de la Rama and his girl near the UP oblation, scanning the strangely self-conscious and subliminally apologetic Aquaman #1 , when Kathryn and Brian Lewis show up. The whole lot of us head to lunch at a pizza place I’ve been missing since I’ve moved away. Leandro catches up to us there.
I grab a beer to loosen up a bit, maybe in anticipation of the afternoon crowd. Comic fans or not, crowds don’t sit with me too well. Caulfield in a bottle. Brian and I chat about Batman and ponies. It all makes sense in context. We head back at a little past noon, bellies full and brains akindle. Artists in the alley.