Date: Wed, 24 Sep 1997 17:55:25 -0500
To: [c--m--x] at [world.std.com]
From: [bison bill] at [mail.utexas.edu] (Mack White)
Subject: SPX

-Poster: [bison bill] at [mail.utexas.edu] (Mack White)

Following are just a few of the many good memories of my SPX weekend . . .

Day 1

I arrived at the Quality Hotel mid-afternoon, and found the room I would be
sharing with Scott Gilbert.  On the door he had taped a sign--"Texas Mutant
Room of the Dead."  Yes, it was the right place--but inside, no Scott.  I
stepped into the restroom to wash off the trail dust, then changed clothes.
In a little while, Scott showed up, bearing a jumbo-sized bottle of
whiskey.  We poured ourselves some drinks and began to talk.  Wasn't long
before the conversation turned to the recent murder of Princess Diana.
This appears to have been staged, in part, as Psy-Ops to create a female
christ for the new millenium.  Already there have been sightings of Diana
apparitions around the world.  Healings and the like are being attributed
to her.  Soon she will put the Virgin Mary out of business.

Feeling good and sociable from the whiskey, we wandered downstairs to pick
up our badges and begin meeting people.  Jeff Smith's chalk talk was
amusing, but this was followed by Susan Alston who gave us the bad news
about Planet Comics and Mike Diana.  Then Mike Diana gave his speech.  He
is such a mild mannered young fellow I cannot imagine anyone, even a
subhuman inbred Southern cop, seriously considering him a suspect in the
Gainesville murders.  It is silly, and infuriating.  So now I was in an ill
humor, which the alcohol only seemed to aggravate.

Glenn Carnagey showed up, and we reminisced about the grand time we had in
Tijuana in July.  But I could not stop thinking about the Planet Comics and
Mike Diana cases, so we discussed that for a while.  We agreed that the
CBLDF does not appear to be of much use, but that it's good we have a CBLDF
nonetheless.  Of course, this is like the paraplegic saying he is glad he
still has both legs.  What purpose, other than aesthetics, do they serve?

I do not blame the CBLDF.  The problem is, simply, that we are living in a
police state, and legal efforts to fight it are useless.  So, perhaps Gore
Vidal is right--the only way to defeat the National Security State is by
revolution, grim though that may be.  Freedom of speech was bought with
bloodshed, and it may take bloodshed to get it back.  But don't hold your
breath.  The average American will gladly send his own son to die for the
oil companies, but he is terrified of risking so much as a nosebleed to
defend his own interests--i.e., the Bill of Rights.

Back at the party, I listened to James Kochalka Superstar for a while, but
my feet were numb from too much alcohol so I left around 11.  I cannot
drink as much as when I was younger, nor can I stay up as late.  "I grow
old, I grow old.  I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled . . ."

Day 2

Next morning I was 15 minutes late reaching the exhibit rooms.  So was
Scott McCloud.  We were standing there, wondering where our tables were,
when Chris Oarr appeared.  "Didn't the nuns rap your knuckles when you were
late?!?!?" he admonished us.  He showed us to our tables.  I quickly set
up, and not a moment too soon.  So many people began stopping by the table
I couldn't believe it.  I had not expected such a turnout.  A few minutes
later Scott Gilbert showed up and spread his wares out on his half of the
table.  We had a great day, and actually made money.  I am still marvelling
over this unexpected development.  We were so busy we couldn't leave our
table for very long, but I did manage to make three quick tours around the
exhibition area.  I accumulated a big stack of comics, yet still did not
pick up as much as I would have liked.  Also, I met a lot of great
people--yet still regret not meeting more.  It was wonderful.  Chris Oarr
and company did a remarkable job organizing this event.

Later that evening, a large crowd of us descended on a Chinese restaurant.
The mood was exuberant.  Someone commented that if a bomb were to go off at
that moment in that restaurant it would severely decimate the ranks of
alternative cartoonists.  Luckily, this did not happen, and we left the
place unscathed to attend the Ignatz ceremony.  Had a couple of drinks
afterwards, then found the hospitality suite where the free beer was, and
had a good conversation with Brian Biggs who gave me the mini-comic he owed
me--a brilliant piece of work, by the way.  Around midnight, I was
exhausted and headed for bed.  Scott did not show up till around five.  He
is a heartier party animal than I am.

Day 3

The panel discussion between retailers and creators was good and
informative.  The State of the Industry speech was interesting too.  Then
came time for the pig roast and ball game.  I have not watched a baseball
game all the way through in years, but this one held my interest.  At some
point Ivan Brunetti handed me his sketchbook and asked me to do a
"mean-spirited" portrait of him.  I do not draw well under pressure, but
did my best, drawing him as a hillbilly mutant.

Later, back at the hotel, I read some comics and took a nap.  Then I
wandered downstairs to the bar, where Ivan had said there might be a
get-together.  But nothing was happening.  So I decided to get something to
eat.  I had a nice seafood dinner at a place down the street, then headed
back to the hotel.  On the way I encountered a group that included my
Austin colleague Shannon Wheeler, and joined them on a trek to Chris Oarr's
house.  I was glad to have this chance to personally thank Chris for the
great work he and his cohorts had done putting SPX together.  While there,
I discovered that Chris is a voracious reader of many of the books that
interest me--the Classics, Gore Vidal, Philip K. Dick, Jim Thompson,
William Burroughs, H. L. Mencken.  So we talked books, and had a fine time.
But, by 2:00, I was dead on my feet.  I also had an early plane to catch.
So did Ivan.  We were going to take a cab back to the hotel, but Shannon
kindly offered to cut his partying short to give us party poopers a ride.
However, goodbyes take a long time among such boisterous company, and by
3:30 we still had not left.  Ivan and I were standing near the door.
"We're never going to get out of here," muttered Ivan.  Somehow the way he
said it struck me as funny, and I nearly busted a gut laughing.  Finally,
we left.  Four people piled into the back seat of Shannon's rented car.
"Is this legal?" he said doubtfully.  It was about 4 when we reached the
hotel.  For the first time all weekend, Scott had hit the sack before me.
"Where have you been, young man?" he asked in the tone of a father
chastising a teenaged son.  "I thought maybe you had met a girl and gotten
laid."  This was the only thing he could think of that could possibly cause
me to stay out so late.  "No, not this time," I replied, then fell into a
sound, but short, sleep.

Day 4

Shortly before 7, I said goodbye to Scott, then headed downstairs.  After
coffee and breakfast, I encountered another Scott (McCloud) waiting by the
hotel entrance with a group of cartoonists.  As the others grabbed their
suitcases and big black portfolios to jump in their cab, Scott observed,
"There's so many of those portfolios around here I keep expecting them to
get switched, like in the movies."  Then Scott hopped in his shuttle and
headed for the Baltimore airport, and I sat down.  The night before Zev had
invited me to ride his 7:45 shuttle to National Airport.  But 7:45 arrived,
and there was no Zev.  Nor was there a shuttle.  I always like to arrive at
the airport at least an hour before flight time--I'm very neurotic about
such things--so I immediately jumped up and started hoofing it for the
Metro.  A block away, I glanced back and saw the shuttle pull up to the
hotel.  Zev must have overslept, I thought.  I wished I had given him a
wake-up call, but it was too late now.

The Metro ride was pleasant, especially when we crossed the Potomac.  I
reached the airport precisely 1 hour and 5 minutes before flight time.
Slept on the flight, which stopped briefly in Chicago.  Then, at 2:30 CST,
I arrived in Austin.  My girlfriend Evelyn was waiting at the wrong gate.
We hugged, and as we walked to the car, I began excitedly telling her about
my trip.  SPX was, without a doubt, the best event of its kind I have ever
attended.  I got to see lots of old friends, make even more new friends,
discover lots of new comics, and return to my drawing board energized by
the experience.  I look forward to the next one.

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