One time while on summer break from college, after my shift as a busboy ended at a local restaurant, I remember watching some crazy show on ESPN called “The World’s Strongest Man”. These super buff men from all over the world competed in these strange events to see who was strongest. One of the events involved these behemoths lugging containers full of lead weights a certain distance, and whoever schlept them fastest won. One dude, unfortunately, broke his leg halfway through it. Compound fracture, bone right through the skin. It was one of the most traumatic things I’ve ever seen because when the poor guy’s leg snapped, he got pinned inside the contraption he was using to carry the weights. All of these people rushed over to help, struggling to pull the weights off of him. I wanted to turn away but could not.
It was a moment when I realized how random and strange life is. These men trained all year long so that, when the competition rolled around, they could pull airplanes with their teeth and toss huge logs as far as they could. What better illustration of the power of faith? These guys BELIEVED that what they were doing mattered, was a point of national pride if they could somehow best the others. To me, that kind of faith is just as strong and powerful and life-affirming as observing a religion. So I guess that’s what inspired this drawing.
It’s a fair question. How will we welcome our troops home? I hope they’re treated well because they didn’t ask for all of this. Will they come home and fade into our subconscious? In our collective attempt to forget this war will we forget them too? I’m not some outlandish patriot, I’ve just been wondering about that. What do you all think?
Abject adulation! That’s what I want. 🙂 Just kidding. I feel like down deep though, every blogger has this desire for mass recognition. Some days I think that would be nice, I won’t lie. It’s just funny that the only means by which a blogger has been able to get mass exposure is because all of the other tens of millions of bloggers out there blogging away, thus adding tremendously to the pool of competition over which one has to yell to have their voice heard. What a paradox!
Saw a pretty good movie last night called “Death at a Funeral”. Slow in the beginning but gets funny toward the middle. If anyone’s looking for a semi-obscure British comedy, check it out. No big names (directed by Frank Oz though). I laughed more than a few times.
I feel like I’ve been doing a bit of this lately, storming ahead without paying attention to the little details. Or the big ones, for that matter. I’m reading the novel “Love in the Time of Cholera” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Anyone ever read it? It’s brilliant. Drop what you’re doing and read it now. So far the book seems to be about what happens when you stop yourself from charging ahead through life in favor of staying safe. This is a theme I’ve been working through in my own life, for reasons I won’t get into here. But I’m thinking that, on balance, our lives are so short that we must go with our feelings on some things or risk regret. Anyone have any thoughts on this?
Update: I just realized I spelled “tandem” wrong in the comic. Oops. Oh well.
This one’s not really inspired by anything. Or I guess I’m starting to get to the point in my life where I like what I like and I’m less interested in all the weird fusions out there, musical and otherwise.
Is anyone else tired of hearing about their friends who chant and do yoga and burn incense? I used to have much more tolerance for this. I used to sit and listen to my friends in awe as they told me that after work twice a week they’d go to a super hot room above a bakery and sit on a mat and get centered with (insert any god’s name here). I now have no time for this. The other day a guy I know told me he’d hired a chanting instructor and I almost ran out the door. He explained that this guy comes into town once every four months from India or Colorado or wherever and holds marathon chanting sessions with him and then he leaves to God knows where. He explained this in a mysterious voice, slightly hushed, his eyes all intense. To me, sitting in a hot room on a hard floor for three days chanting words I don’t even know is not relaxing. I’d much rather watch T.V. or read a book. Or draw, of course. Anyone else have a friend like this who swears that yoga/chanting is the greatest thing in the world?
The pound being worth what it is, I think the British could re-invade us easily. We already love their accent. What’ll happen is this: China will take over us, then England will take over them and us, much the same way they took over Hong Kong. Doesn’t sound too far-fetched, does it?