Name’s Owen. Pleased to meet you. I’ve done some things on the internet. I started a webcomic a few years ago. It was pretty mediocre, but my friends were nice enough to say otherwise. It actually had a small following in Japan, if I recall correctly, and this is either a comment on how misunderstood I am as an artist, or what terrible taste the Japanese have.
More recently, I headed up my college’s 100-year old humor magazine, the Dartmouth Jack-O-Lantern. I guarantee it’s the best thing you’ve never heard of. That was a lot of fun: drawing comics, writing articles, sleeping with hundreds of women. Great, not-at-all illusory times were had by me. I cranked out comedy at a speed that some would call reasonable, and everyone I passed on the street was quick to say “hey” and bob their head upwards in that particular way that acknowledges the immediate passing of a genuine Happening Dude™.
Now I’ve traded that wonderful lifestyle for the indifferent bosom of the Big City, where my experience is starting to look like a first-grade art project gently propped up against the foot of the gleaming entertainment industry.
There it sits, indifferently drawing debris. A curve of macaroni dangles loosely from a glue-damp corner and twirls, in a silent ballet.
Speaking of which, what’s with food nowadays? I don’t remember food being this expensive.
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