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I generally hate Super Mario Bros riffs, but some things he does is very human. Also, I drew a good amount of this at a bar.

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This was for BushwickDaily (on April 14th, which reminded me to do my taxes on time), so I was able to make this closer to home.

I never figured out the banana issue, but something similar happened with a bread roll. And it’s interesting, with the way they gnaw on  your food, how similar the marking is to one cartoony bite mark. Life imitates toon, no one says, but it’s true. I don’t see any anvils in my neighborhood, but there are a lot of flattened mice carcasses around. 

This was drawn during one of the recent snow storms, so it might be a better read if you imagine snowflakes outside your window.

Two Saturday nights ago, I was walking up and down Grand Street, because I  couldn’t find a bar party. I’ve been there before, but my brain never really thinks linearly, so I couldn’t tell if it was before or after the cluster of bed bug bars. I reached the Indian place, and I wasn’t sure if it was too far, or not enough or just the right time to take an Indian food break. And then a girl walked out of it and she recognized me and said “Hey!” and I thought, great now I have to deal with this. 

I don’t recognize people well and it’s frustrating because I know there are  people who do it on purpose because not having social skills is a high social status, and I don’t want to associate with that. My friend Gabe said it was because I  don’t make eye contact, and I also don’t have good memory. 

But I think maybe she could be a friend of a friend, and is visiting. So I said  ”Hey!” And then we talked until we realized we weren’t who we thought we were. 

She made sure I wasn’t a philosophy student who worked in a sandwich shop, and I made sure she wasn’t a globe-trotting craft-girl. “Goodbye,” I said, “it was nice bumping into you.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

A few days later I wondered if she was just a crazy person, who gave me a chance to be someone else. Maybe we were supposed to be lifelong companions, living the great lie of worldly travel and sandwich making. If only I saw the signs.

It turned out the bar I was looking for was just across the street and I just kept walking by it. 

My pair of waterproof shoes have no grip to them, even though it seems like making sure they don’t slip is a given. The designers at Timberland go home to their cabins after achieving ”dry socks.” “Dry socks” will also be a bullet point in the coroner’s autopsy report of my “stupid stoop death” (Which will be searchable on youtube before winter ends).