A Note on Comic Book Conventions

Yesterday I went to my very first comic book convention, C2E2.  To be quite honest, I had a blast.  Sure, my feet were killing me by the end of the day, but that's what you get when you wear Converse with no arch support, hooray!  But it was fine, all my toes are still in tact and I don't think I wore out my soles.

Spending as much time on the Internet as I do, I was primed to look out for people in costumes.  Good costumes.  And there were some good costumes.  But the originality was lacking.  I saw A LOT of The Doctor from Doctor Who, and the same ones over and over again: Four, Ten, and Eleven.  I maybe saw one Nine and one of the First.  And then there were a lot of superheroes and super villains.  Of course.  Makes sense.  But typical.  Lots of Harley Quinn.  The Joker.  Superman.  Spiderman.  Yeah.  So a little disappointed in that respect.

But really excited about other things.  Like the Doctor Who postcards I got.  And the Kill Shakespeare comic I bought.  That's right, my very first comic that I bought all by myself instead of getting it from a friend. There was so much to look at, and a couple costumes to guess about.  And of course, hanging out with friends.  Because they're awesome.

Unfortunately, I wrote yesterday's poem today.  And today's poem is not appropriate for this blog.  So...here.

April 26, 2013

I'd like to apologize, my friend,
for my offenses.
When I turned in my chair
and asked you to leave,
that was rude.
Then allowing separation
as if breaking from the herd
and ignoring the
sheepdog yapping.
I lost sight
and wandered blindly deaf
to any pleas,
then ask you for more,
to be my cover story
accomplice
to late night affairs.

I apologize
for the shrunken sweater
discomfort bred
by my frivolity
skipping through aisles
on rubber-soled ecstasy.

"Because that's what a comic is, ultimately: a collection of pages.  It's not a flatpanel or a touchscreen, even though that's where it might eventually be displayed.  It's a page."

- John Heffernan